The sky over Liguria that night was a dull, heavy gray — a grim omen painted across the canvas of destiny.Far inside a grand villa guarded by towering men in black suits, men who looked more like executioners than bodyguards, a baby's cries broke through the sound of rain tapping against the glass ceiling.
But this was no ordinary cry. It was not merely a new soul greeting the world — it was a bell toll, announcing the birth of a bloodline long stained by darkness and crime.
"At last, he is born," murmured an old man, his voice hoarse, his eyes locked on the tiny, blood-smeared infant.
All around the grand room, men dressed in black suits stood silently, their expressions solemn, bearing witness as Salvatore Di Neri, the patriarch of the De Luca family, lifted the newborn in his powerful hands. His face, carved with the marks of time, showed more than pride — it carried the heavy weight of expectation, a burden passed down from the first generation that built an empire of shadows.
"Fabian Di Neri," he whispered.The name echoed through the cold marble walls like a prophecy.
"You are not just a child. You are our future," Salvatore said, his voice a vow carved in stone.
From that moment on, Fabian's fate was etched into the bloodstained pages of history.He was not born to be an innocent child — he was born an heir. A legacy to be shaped, hardened, and forged into steel.
Not far from Salvatore, lying weakly on a lavish golden bed, was Valeria Di Neri — Salvatore's beloved wife, the woman who had just brought the long-awaited heir into the world. Exhausted from the battle of birth, Valeria still smiled through her tears, her heart full.
"Thank you, my queen," Salvatore said, his voice gruff but filled with an unfamiliar tenderness."You've given us the future of our world."
Outside, the sky seemed to mourn. Rain fell in torrents, hammering against the windows of the nursery where Fabian, just a tiny boy now, lay sleeping restlessly.It was as if the storm was trying to wake him from the nightmare his life would become.
At just seven years old, the weight of his destiny already pressed down on him, stealing the carefree laughter that should have filled his childhood.One night, he bolted from his room, his small feet barely touching the ground as he raced through the endless cold hallways, straight to his mother's side.
There, in the dim candlelight, Valeria lay pale and still, her once-vibrant spirit flickering like a dying flame.Fabian clutched her hand, desperate and trembling.
"Mama?" he whispered, his voice cracking.
Valeria's eyes fluttered open, her gaze soft and struggling. Her lips moved, barely forming words, but only a single tear escaped down her cheek.Fabian leaned in, clinging to the fading warmth of her touch.
"Don't go, Mama... please don't leave me..." he sobbed, his tiny heart breaking.
With the last of her strength, Valeria cupped his cheek, her voice a mere breath."Fabian... you must be strong... carry on what we have built... lead with your heart..."And then she was gone.
Time itself seemed to stop.
From that night onward, Fabian's world changed forever.No more warm hugs waiting at the door. No more lullabies whispered in the darkness. Only shadows — and endless, creeping nightmares.
His father, Salvatore, did not mourn.To him, Valeria's death was nothing more than another piece on the chessboard being removed.Standing coldly in the corner, he said, "Tears won't bring her back, Fabian. If you want to protect anything in this life, you must be strong enough to lose everything."
And so Fabian never cried again.
He grew up between two worlds: the fleeting innocence of childhood, and the cruel, relentless world of shadows.In the cold basement of the villa, Fabian witnessed his first true lesson.A man, bound and broken, bloodied and pleading, sat strapped to a chair.
"Don't look away, my son," Salvatore commanded, his voice thundering through the cavernous room."This is our world. This is the price of betrayal."
Fabian's tiny hands trembled, but he forced himself to watch.The man's life drained away before his eyes — a soul snuffed out, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell.
That night, Fabian didn't shed a tear.Instead, he clutched the silver bracelet on his wrist, feeling its cold bite against his skin.In that moment, compassion was replaced by something colder, something darker: the first spark of vengeance.
Later that night, he found his father in the study, a haze of cigar smoke curling around ancient leather books.
"Father," Fabian said, hesitantly but firmly."Why must we live like this? Why must people fear us?"
Salvatore glanced at him, then smiled — a slow, knowing smile. He patted the chair beside him, inviting Fabian to sit.
"Fear is currency, my son. With fear, we buy loyalty. With fear, we control empires.And with fear... we protect what's ours."
"But... must we kill?"
Salvatore chuckled, low and cruel."You are still young. One day, you'll understand — the world is a game. You either eat, or you are eaten."
Fabian nodded slowly.His father's words carved invisible scars across his soul, maps leading him toward a fate he could neither escape nor refuse.
The years passed.Fabian grew into a young man with eyes like sharpened blades, always watching, always calculating.He learned the art of survival, the politics of the underworld, and the silent codes of betrayal written in blood.
On the night of his eighteenth birthday, Salvatore handed him a gleaming silver pistol — the family crest engraved along the barrel.
"It's time, Fabian," his father said. "You must settle this... on your own."
Before him knelt a man — once a trusted lieutenant, now just another traitor.The fear in the man's eyes mirrored the fear Fabian had long since buried.
Fabian took the pistol.The metal was cold, but not as cold as the void inside him.
Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger.
Silence fell like a heavy curtain.Fabian felt no guilt, no fear — only a deep, echoing emptiness where his humanity once lived.
Salvatore clapped a firm hand on his shoulder."Now," he said, "you are truly a Di Neri."
From that night on, Fabian's name began to slip through the dark alleyways and smoky back rooms of the city.Whispered, feared, revered.
Fabian Di Neri — the heir to the throne of shadows.A man who had never bowed to anyone.
And never would.