Leonardo De Varezzi

Everyone in the city feared his name. Leonardo De Varezzi The Ghost King of the Underworld. The boss of all mafia bosses. Cold, calculating, and cruel beyond measure. He didn't need to speak to make people tremble—the air around him was so powerful that grown men stumbled to make way for him. Enemies? Crushed without mercy. Smiles? Only crooked ones, and even those were rare. At thirty-two, he ruled empires in silence. He had never known love. The very concept seemed ridiculous to him. For him, emotions were a weakness, and he was impeccable. Every night, like clockwork, Leonardo strolled the city's back alleys—his territory. A silent reminder to everyone: this was his kingdom. With two trusted shadows always at his side—his deadliest bodyguards—no one dared approach. Until that night.

Under the dim glow of a broken street lamp, his gaze caught something unfamiliar. Girl. Dirty. Ragged. Alone. Sitting on an old barrel, like a forgotten doll, she held a dented tin can in her hands. A single coin jingled softly inside. Her face was smeared with dirt, her tangled hair a wild mess. Her bare feet were pressed against the cold concrete, bruised and scarred. The oversized shirt she wore looked like it belonged to a dead person. I'd never seen her here before.

She was supposed to disgust him. But this didn't happen.

Leonardo stopped

His cold, dark eyes fixed on her, and something inside him—something ancient and deeply buried—stirred.

Crack

The girl looked up, her eyes wide, but strangely… without fear. She looked at him as if he were just a man, not a monster. And this look. These eyes.

Mysterious. Daring. Impenetrable.

He took a step forward. Then another.

His bodyguards exchanged glances.

"What's your name, girl?"

The silence that followed was deafening. Even his men looked stunned. No one has ever heard of him