Author pov,

The sinclair mansion stood like a fortress on the cliffs of Amalfi, overlooking the restless Italian sea. Its walls, carved of pale stone, whispered of power, of secrets, of blood spilled for the empire it guarded. To outsiders, it was a palace of wealth; to those who knew the name Sinclair, it was a throne of iron—where kings of the underworld were made.

Inside the grand hall, the air carried a heavy silence. The chandeliers glowed faintly golden, scattering light across marble floors polished to mirror-like perfection. Massive portraits of ancestors—men who had ruled Italy’s underworld for centuries—watched from gilded frames, their painted eyes sharp and judging.

At the far end, on a raised platform, sat Leonardo Sinclair. Even though age had silvered his hair, there was nothing fragile about him. His presence alone demanded respect. He was no longer the ruling mafia king, but his shadow still stretched over Italy like a blade. The chair beneath him, carved with lions and crowned with the family crest, looked less like furniture and more like a throne.

Before him stood his six sons—Carlos, Damien, Luca, Marco, Matteo, and Danny. Six men, each different, yet bound by the same blood, the same legacy. They rarely stood like this—lined up, facing their father, as though summoned to judgment. And they knew something was coming.

Carlos was the first to break the silence. His deep voice carried the weight of command.

Carlos: “Father, what happened? Why did you call us here so urgently?”

Leonardo didn’t answer immediately. He leaned back, his piercing eyes studying each of them as though measuring their strength. Beside him, a loyal man stepped forward—Rik, one of Leonardo’s most trusted soldiers, a man who had served the Sinclairs for decades. In his hand, he carried a folder, thick with papers.

Rik: “Boss… the papers you asked for.”

Leonardo reached out, taking them slowly. His fingers, though marked with age, were still steady, commanding. He flipped through them once, then placed the folder on the table beside him.

Leonardo: “Everything is perfect, right?”

Rik: “Yes, Boss. Every detail. Every proof. It is all here.”

The brothers exchanged glances. Their curiosity was now burning. Damien narrowed his eyes, always the cautious one.

Damien: “Father, what’s going on? Why the suspense?”

Marco, ever impatient, took a step forward.

Marco: “Yeah, just tell us already. You’ve kept us waiting long enough.”

Matteo placed a hand on Marco’s arm, pulling him back slightly, his calm voice steady.

Matteo: “Patience, brother. Father never plays with words. If he calls us here like this, it’s something important.”

Luca smirked, though his tone held genuine curiosity.

Luca: “Important? From the look on his face, it’s either someone’s about to die or someone’s about to be born.”

Danny, the youngest, looked between them, his brows furrowed. Unlike his brothers, his voice carried innocence.

Danny: “Father… just tell us. Please.”

Leonardo let the silence stretch a moment longer, the tension wrapping the room like a tightened rope. Then finally, his voice cut through the air, deep and deliberate.

Leonardo: “We found her.”

The words hung in the air, strange and heavy. The brothers froze. Confusion rippled across their faces.

Damien: “Found who?”

Carlos: (sharply) “Who are you talking about?”

Leonardo’s gaze darkened, his eyes gleaming with something none of them had seen in years—hope.

Leonardo: “Our little princess. Your sister. Annie.”

The room erupted.

Marco: “What?!”

Luca: “No… no, that’s not possible…”

Danny: (whispering) “Annie?” His chest tightened at the name.

Carlos clenched his fists, his jaw tight. His voice was rough, disbelieving.

Carlos: “Father, don’t play games with us. Annie… she’s gone. We lost her the day she was born.”

Leonardo’s eyes flashed with pain. He leaned forward, his voice thunderous.

Leonardo: “Do you think I would speak her name without truth? Do you think I would torment myself, or you, with a lie? I saw her.”

The brothers stilled, exchanging shocked looks.

Damien: “You… saw her? Where?”

Leonardo exhaled slowly, his memory dragging him back.

Leonardo: “Last month. When I went to India for business. I saw a girl… something in her eyes, her face, her very presence… she was Zara’s reflection. My heart stopped. I knew. But I didn’t trust just my eyes. I had her tested. DNA.”

He tapped the folder Rik had brought.

Leonardo: “It is here. Proof. She is mine. She is yours. Annie Sinclair.”

For a long moment, no one spoke. The silence was filled only with the thunder of their own racing hearts.

Danny was the first to break, his voice trembling.

Danny: “My… twin.” His eyes watered. “All these years… she was alive?”

Leonardo’s voice softened, only for him.

Leonardo: “Yes, Danny. Your other half. The sister you’ve felt missing in your soul since the day you opened your eyes. She is alive.”

Danny turned, almost stumbling, his hands covering his face. The others stared at their father, their disbelief slowly melting into something else—shock, joy, and a surge of fierce protectiveness.

Marco stepped forward, his fiery nature burning.

Marco: “Where is she? Tell us. I’ll bring her home right now!”

Matteo’s voice followed, calmer but firm.

Matteo: “Father, if this is true, if Annie is alive, she belongs here. With us.”

Luca grinned, but for once, his charm was gone—replaced by raw excitement.

Luca: “A sister… after all these years. Can you imagine? She won’t even know what hit her when she walks into this mansion. Six brothers ready to spoil and protect her.”

Damien adjusted his tie, his composure cracking just slightly as emotion flickered in his eyes.

Damien: “Father… do you know what this means? For us? For her?”

Carlos finally spoke, his voice low and dangerous.

Carlos: “It means someone is going to pay. Whoever took her. Whoever hid her. Eighteen years of my sister’s life stolen? That debt will be paid in blood.”

Leonardo let them speak, let their voices rise and fall, until the room pulsed with raw emotion. Then he raised his hand, silencing them all.

Leonardo: “She is in India. In an orphanage. She grew up with nothing—no family, no protection, no name. While you had this mansion, this empire, she had only herself. But that ends now. We will bring her home.”

The brothers’ eyes gleamed, united in a way they hadn’t been in years.

Marco: “When do we leave?”

Luca: “I’m packing my bags now.”

Danny: (pleading) “Father, please. I need to see her. I need to see Annie. She’s my twin—my other half. Don’t ask me to wait.”

Leonardo’s voice was steady, absolute.

Leonardo: “No. Not all of you will go.”

The protest was immediate.

Marco: “What?! Why not?”

Luca: “You can’t keep us here.”

Danny: “I won’t stay behind!”

Carlos raised his hand, silencing them with a glare.

Carlos: “Let him finish.”

Leonardo’s gaze swept over each of them, his voice cold with authority.

Leonardo: “If the six of you march into India together, it will not be a rescue. It will be a war. The world will notice. Our enemies will notice. And Annie’s safety will be put at risk. This must be quiet. This must be careful.”

Damien: (nodding) “He’s right. Too much attention will only endanger her.”

Marco: “So what, we just sit here while she’s out there?”

Leonardo: “No. But only two will go.”

The room tensed.

Leonardo: “I will go. And Carlos will go with me.”

Carlos inclined his head, accepting without hesitation.

Carlos: “As it should be.”

Marco growled, pacing like a caged lion.

Marco: “That’s not fair. We all have the right—”

Matteo touched his arm, stopping him again.

Matteo: “Marco. Think. Father is right. Too many of us and the world will know. For Annie’s sake, let them go.”

Danny’s voice broke, his eyes pleading.

Danny: “But I… she’s my twin, Father. Please. Don’t leave me behind.”

Leonardo’s gaze softened, just slightly. He rose from his throne, walking toward Danny. Placing a hand on his youngest son’s shoulder, he spoke quietly.

Leonardo: “I know, Danny. I know the bond you feel. And soon, you will see her. But trust me this once. Let me bring her safely to you. Then… she will never leave your side again.”

Danny swallowed hard, his lips trembling. Finally, he nodded.

Danny: “Bring her home, Father. Please. Bring Annie home.”

Leonardo’s voice was firm.

Leonardo: “I promise you, son. She will come home.”

The room fell silent again. But this time, it was not heavy with uncertainty—it was alive with something rare. Hope. After eighteen years of loss, of silence, of imagining a sister they never knew, the Sinclairs had a purpose that united them all.

Annie was alive.

And the world would soon learn what it meant when the Sinclairs fought for family.