“Passion is a powerful force. Passion properly directed is unstoppable.”
♕ 𝖓𝖎𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖆: 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖉𝖚𝖟𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖊
Name: Nicola Z. D'Angelo-Fiore
Birthdate: 13 June 1999
Location: Laglio, Italy
♕ 𝖆 𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖕𝖔 𝖉'𝖔𝖈𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖔
Full Name: Nicola Guiliana D'Angelo-Fiore (née Zanetta)
Nicknames: Nic, Nicky, Tesorina (only by Gio)
Birthplace: Milan, Italy
Hometown: Milan & Palermo, Italy
Nationality: Italian
Occupation: Stay-at-home Mum/Aspiring Restaurateur
Residences: Laglio, Italy; New York City, NY, USA; Harpswell, ME, USA
♕ 𝖎𝖑 𝖘𝖚𝖔 𝖆𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖊
Status: Married to Giovanni Fiore
— June 13, 2017; m. November 27, 2023
Children:
⋆ Giovanni Bosco Fiore III (b. March 08, 2018)
⋆ Antonio Bosco Fiore (b. August 08, 2024)
⋆ Niccolo Bosco Fiore (b. May 08, 2025)
♕ 𝖑𝖆 𝖘𝖚𝖆 𝖋𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖆
Father: Antonio Zanetta
Mother: Eleonora Zanetta (née D'Angelo) †
Sibling: Lorenzo D. Zanetta
♕ 𝖑𝖆 𝖘𝖚𝖆 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖆
Born into one of the most prominent families in Milan, Italy, Nicola had a very different upbringing compared to most children her age. Joining her older brother, Lorenzo, in the city's most elite private school, her father's expectations for her were far from that was expected of her brother. But not in the best way.
With Lorenzo as the family's natural successor, this did not save Nicola from her father's watchful eye. He wanted his daughter to join the family business, an exhausting request she had denied him time and time again. Though she respected her father and all that he has built, it was simply not what she wanted for herself. As her mother's daughter, she grew up with passions and dreams of her own, and with every intention to see them through whether her father liked it or not.
But upon her mother's death, Antonio's fear of losing his children only tightened his grip on them; he used this time to ship Nicola to a Catholic school in Sicily while he had his only son shadow his every move. This meant that while he taught his son all the ways of his legal (and illegal) businesses, Nicola was left in the dark. With no knowledge that her father ran the most notorious mafia in the city, or that her brother was next in line, she was blind to the reasons that left her life crumbling to dust many years ago.
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Nicola held onto her husband like her life depended on it. She was so exhausted, it was all she could do. Shutting her eyes closed, she recalled all that had happened in the past three days.
Since arriving at the Scuderis Estate, deep in the belly of Rome, Nicola had kept to herself, resilient and strong. Even as Vincenzo tried his best to aggravate her, she didn't allow him to break her resolve. He may have physically taken her but there was no way she'd surrender her thoughts and emotions to him.
Eyes covered and hands bound, Vincenzo ripped her out from the back of his Porsche and tossed her into the private plane awaiting them. Despite her condition, Vincenzo showed no signs of remorse as he strapped her down to a seat.
"Why isn't she kicking and screaming?" asked one of the thugs lining the private jet.
"Maybe she bites," snickered another. "At least, I hope she does."
Nicola rolled her eyes beneath her thick blindfold. It was the only small mercy she could afford. It was imperative she stayed calm. If not for her, for her unborn baby. Soon, she'd find a way out. For now, there was no use wasting what little energy she had, knowing she'd be overpowered in seconds if she tried. The last thing she wanted was to provoke them; it'd only invite assault one way or another.
Inhaling deeply, the men's cologne was a direct offense to her senses, and Nicola fought the urge to sneer derisively.
Who were these men? And what did they want with her???
Nicola found out soon enough that Giuseppe Scuderis was her captor. And it was his estate she'd been brought into.
"My, my, my..." A different voice greeted Nicola. But even without her sight, she could feel him slithering his way around her like she was his latest art piece. "You're the spitting image of your mother..."
Nicola bit her tongue so hard, she could taste the metallic iron of her blood. A faint breeze blew past as she felt him reach over to untie her blindfold.
"An exact copy," the man mused as he looked into Nicola's dark brown eyes. "You did not inherit your father's blue." He smirked. "I'm glad."
Her eyebrows furrowed in anticipation. So, this was...
"Giuseppe Scuderis." The man bowed to introduce himself, taking Nicola's hand to kiss. "Your father's... archenemy."
"A bit dramatic, don't you think?" quipped Nicola, delighting Giuseppe.
"They do say I have a flair for it, yes." Gesturing to one of his guards, Giuseppe turned to look at Nicola, all theatrics void from his face. In its place, a sinister smile. "You know what else I have a flair for?" He hissed into Nicola's ear. "Collecting precious jewels."
Baffled, Nicola caught his gaze. What? What does that mean??? But she needn't wait long. The giant oak doors opened behind her and in came the same guard, but this time he brought company.
From the moment she'd been abducted, Nicola had remained resolute. But one look at the child who'd just walked in, and Nicola practically fell to her knees. Gio!
A mother's instincts were a powerful thing; the only force in the world bold enough to combat a mother's love. And Nicola would've gladly bet her life right then and there that that boy, now staring blankly at her, was her son. Her first born.
Nicola's entire body lunged forward before she could stop herself. But Giuseppe held her back by a knife around her throat.
"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," he wheezed into her ear. "Or it's his life for yours."
Nicola swallowed, surrendering, but never taking her eyes off of her son. He looked so much like Giovanni when he was young; Nicola could remember it from all the pictures her husband had shared with her. The boy was a striking image of his father.
This was it. This is what Antonio had said — that the Scuderises have taken her son and were now grooming him as one of their own.
"Gio," Giuseppe called the boy forward. "It's time to prove yourself, son," he announced. "Take this nice lady downstairs, will you? And throw away the key when you're done." He handed him a key. "And if she decides to be difficult, shoot her."
Nicola's head whipped around, and, in her horror, she watched as Giuseppe hand little Gio a glock.
Nicola's heart raced as she was escorted to the mansion's underbelly. It was a labyrinth of hallways before she was thrown into one of its bare rooms.
"I got it from here," Nicola heard the boy say to the guard, before going into the room with her. The guard looked apprehensive at first, but since this was meant to be a test for the boy, he allowed it.
"Gio—...!" Nicola started in a hushed voice, only to be interrupted.
"Listen. Lady." The boy looked her in the eye. What was once a blank stare was now pleading. And it took Nicola barely any time to realise that he had no idea she was his mother. "If I help you out of here, will you take me with you?"
***
Nicola's hold on her husband tightened as she remembered that moment. It was the first time she'd ever looked her son in the eye, the first she'd heard him speak.
"It's all going to be okay now, my treasure," she heard Giovanni soothe her, as he carried her out of the Scuderis Estate. Behind them were his brother Romeo safeguarding his nephew, with Lorenzo at the back, making sure no Snakes followed them.
"We're going home," Giovanni reassured his wife with a kiss on her forehead. "And we're never going to be apart again."
Nicola braved a smile as she watched her husband, Giovanni, turn and wave one last time before heading inside his family's private jet. In minutes, he'd be on his way to New York — a whole ocean away from her and their son — and that small, faltering smile was all that was holding her up.
Ever since their paths had unexpectedly, and quite miraculously, crossed a year and a half ago, Nicola and Gio have been inseparable. Just as it was when they spent that beautiful summer in Laglio many summers before. Now, Giovanni was on his way to New York. Without her.
Nicola had braved a smile then, too, when Gio asked her if she was alright with him going on his own. It'd only be for the weekend, he had promised. He wanted to spend some time with his younger sister, Gemma, and be able to check in on his business in New York. He didn't have to say it, but Nicola had a feeling it also had to do with needing space. Nicola couldn't deny him of that, even if she wanted to. He needed this. Deserved it. Peace.
She assured him that it was alright. Because it was. More than alright, really. She wasn't the kind of wife to stand in the way of her husband seeing his family, especially with how close he was to them. But she'd be lying if she denied that it didn't hurt. But she loved Giovanni — madly, passionately, infinitely — that seeing him happy was worth taking any bullet.
Besides, who could blame him? With everything her father had put them through, put Giovanni through, Nicola wouldn't be surprised if one day Gio decides that she wasn't worth all this trouble after all.
The thought alone seared an iron so hot, it was unbearable, and Nicola had to take a moment to catch her breath.
For all twenty-five years of Nicola's life, Antonio Zanetta had kept the fact that beneath his many successful businesses sat him at the head of the most notorious mafia in Milan, La Rosa Scarlatta. And that his only son, her brother, Lorenzo, was not only his second-in-command, but was next in line.
Moreover, six years ago, Antonio had sat with her for months on end, consoling her as she cried for a love lost, as if it wasn't he who had terrorised Giovanni; he'd threatened the young man to leave sever all ties with Nicola or it'd be his life — and his family's lives — on the line.
And the worst of it all, the most unforgivable: the failure to mention that the son she'd conceived with Giovanni, the son she'd lost, was not dead like they were told by hospital staff but instead taken by a rival family in Rome. And yet, he's still not doing enough to bring him home!
Remembering all these, Nicola prayed a little harder for Monday to come sooner. So that it may bring Giovanni home sooner.
"Mrs Fiore?"
The familiar voice snapped Nicola out of her thoughts. It was Alonzo, one of the Fiores' trusted drivers, who mostly drove her around when Giovanni was at work.
"Let me help you," he offered, referring to the stroller she was pushing that held a sleeping six-month-old Antonio Bosco.
"Oh, thank you! But it's okay, I've got it," Nicola replied with a half-smile. "He's just fallen asleep, and I'm afraid he might wake up again," she gently insisted, carefully placing her son into his car seat.
Alonzo kept a close watch on her in case she needed help, mostly because she was nearing the end of her second trimester and Gio had been very particular about making sure she didn't exert more effort than she needed to in everything. Once she was safely inside her husband's Porsche, Alonzo promptly tucked the stroller in the boot of the car and resumed his place in the driver's seat.
"Are you alright, Mrs Fiore?" Alonzo asked as he drove them out of the private airport, and into the main road.
"Hm?" Nicola looked up, again distracted. "Oh, yes. Just tired, is all..."
Just then, her phone rang. Fearful that the sound might wake the baby, and half hopeful that it was Gio on the other line, Nicola quickly fished her phone from her purse, only for her heart to sink.
"Papa calling..."
Nicola sighed. She was in no mood to talk to her father, now or anytime soon. She was still very, very angry with him. Especially since he was the reason her husband was in New York right now!
What could he want now, anyway? Couldn't he count on the familiar Mercedes Benz that was always trailing her to feed him information? Wasn't that what those bodyguards were there for??
Relief washed over her as soon as the ringing stopped. But barely a second passed before it started again, causing a fresh wave of anxiety to return tenfold. Still, she ignored it. He'd give up. But no, the man was relentless, calling for the third time.
Annoyed, Nicola finally picked up.
"Papa, I'm not in the mood. I'm still very angry with you," she started to say, only for Antonio to cut her off.
"I know, dolcezza, I know," Antonio insisted. "And you have every right to be. But with Giovanni's out of town..." Nicola couldn't help but roll her eyes. Of course, her father would already know that Gio had left. The man really had eyes everywhere in Milan, and clearly now in Laglio. "I was wondering if you and I could talk first," he suggested, sounding hopeful. "I figured, compared to your husband, you might be less inclined to sucker punch me," he half-joked.
"I wouldn't count on that," Nicola snapped. "I didn't get my fury from Mamma."
There was a pause, to which Nicola could almost detect a proud smile at the other end of the line.
"Then I'll take it like a man," Antonio conceded. "As long as you come. For lunch. How about it? I'll have the chef cook your favourites." Before Nicola could even say anything, he added, "I'll send a car. I wouldn't want you driving on your own. Not in your condition, not that long a distance, and definitely not in this weather."
Nicola clenched her jaw, teeth grinding. She was really not in any mental or emotional capacity to see or speak with him. But she was itching to let him have it. To rip him a new one. With Gio gone, no one could hold her back.
"Fine. Lunch tomorrow," Nicola eventually agreed, albeit begrudgingly. "But there's no need to send a car. I've got Alonzo," she said. It seemed to have appeased her father well enough that he didn't push his luck further. He simply said his goodbye and hung up.
"I'm sorry, I didn't clear it with you first," Nicola's tone was much softer now that she was addressing her driver. "Would you be able to drive me to Milan tomorrow?"
"Of course, Mrs Fiore. It's no trouble at all," Alonzo smiled as he briefly glanced at her through his rearview mirror. "Your husband made sure that I am at your complete disposal for as long as he is away."
The sentiment brought a genuine smile across Nicola's lips for the first time that day, softening her demeanour. The thought that Gio had put in place everything she could ever need whilst he was away made her feel better. Though nothing could ever compare to his actual presence, knowing he was always thinking of her was definitely worth smiling about.
