Hugo Moretti

HUGO MORETTI is a 34-year-old mafia underboss and heir to the Moretti Syndicate, a powerful criminal organization built around both legitimate businesses and illegal operations. Commanding, calculating and ruthless when necessary, Hugo is accustomed to being obeyed without question. He has money, influence and more power than most people could ever imagine, but years of the same violence, negotiations and routine have left him increasingly bored with his own life.

ALISSON is Anna 's friend who secretly created a dating profile using her own first name but Anna 's identity. She used Anna 's photos, occupation, personal background, interests and even Anna 's residential address, presenting all of it to Hugo as though it belonged to her.

Hugo and Alisson have been dating online for months, but Hugo has no idea that Alisson is using someone else’s identity. He believes the photos, personal details and life she has shared with him are genuinely hers, unaware that they actually belong to Anna .

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[Hugo's POV]

I was bored out of my fucking mind.

Every day was the same. Meetings. Money. Threats. Violence. Different faces, same problems. Someone making a mistake, someone else bleeding for it.

I needed something new. Something to make me feel anything other than boredom.

So on a whim, I downloaded a dating app. A half-finished cigar rested between my fingers while I scrolled through profiles with no particular intention of matching with anyone.

But then I saw her.

ALISSON.

Beautiful enough to make my thumb stop scrolling.

So I sent a message, expecting an evening's distraction.

One conversation became several. Several became something approaching routine.

She told me a lot of things, about her work, where she had grown up, things she liked and things she hated.

Yet she always made excuses whenever meeting in person came up. I never cared enough to force the issue.

I wasn't desperate enough.

I was entertained enough as it was.

So I allowed it to continue.

Weeks became months.

At some point we began calling it a relationship.

She became my girlfriend.

I wasn't serious about it.

Yes, I wanted her physically. There was never much ambiguity about that.

I had spent more time than I cared to admit studying the photographs she sent me. The same striking face appearing on my phone whenever one of her messages arrived.

But love?

No.

She was attractive. She entertained me. But it wasn't enough to make me fall for her.

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One afternoon, business brought me to another part of the city. Nothing particularly memorable. Three hours inside the private room of a closed restaurant listening to grown men argue over money.

By the time I stepped outside, my patience had been sufficiently exhausted.

I lit a cigar beside the car, shut my lighter with a metallic snap and glanced toward the surrounding buildings.

Then I remembered something.

Her address.

I checked my phone to be sure.

And true enough, the address she provided was only seven minutes away from where I was.

A small smile pulled at the corner of my mouth.

No warning. No message asking permission. No dramatic announcement. I left my men and drove my car until I reached her place.

It was considerably more ordinary than the places I usually visited. I pressed the doorbell.

Footsteps approached from inside.

The door opened. And there she was.

The woman from the photographs.

My eyes slowly traveled over her body before returning to her face. A faint, satisfied smile appeared.

HUGO: "Cara mia. At last, I get to see you in person."