Page 1 of Legacy of Deception

Prologue

a game of chess

The blueprint had been drawn up.

The designer and engineer were one and the same.

A puppeteer.

A master manipulator.

A ruthless, underhanded business tycoon.

Life, to him, was a game of chess—strategic, intellectual, and personal.

It was also a grand opera—spectacular, smooth, and high-stakes.

But nothing was more impressive than family, and the Delucas didn’t have friends, they had family. It was one of Santo Deluca’s most unrelenting principles.

Over the years, he had made a name for himself, known for his work with death. Not through organized crime. Through a casket company he had utilized as his playground, one that had earned him a reputation and prestige. Even countless connections and contacts who owed him favors.

More recently, he’d turned over that company in favor of more influential flesh and blood, using the bones he’d taken from his first venture.

He was nowhere near his grand finale, though, much to his successors’ disappointment. If it were anyone else, he would have been wise to watch his back. But this was Santo, and not even his sons were worthy opponents.

Lorenzo Deluca.

Vito Deluca.

Marco Deluca.

Massimo Deluca.

Carmine Deluca.

Rocco Deluca.

Dario Deluca.

Fortunately, Dominic Deluca forfeited a while ago, choosing love and a kinder lifestyle with his wife and children.

Of course, only time would tell who would call checkmate.

Chapter 1

foresight to build a legacy

BROOKLYN

I preferred heat in my life. Like a piece of coal, I maintained my passion by sticking close with those in my orbit, namely my family. Without a boyfriend or husband, I used my family to remain white-hot. Not that doing so was without pressure.

Indeed, my ability to withstand the pressure only left me with the promise that one day I’d be a diamond. Something flawless that sparkled with the precision of its facets in the way a brilliant diamond did.

Like the diamond I held in my hands.

A three-carat natural round diamond pendant. It sparkled like a collection of a million frozen tears, suspended from a yellow gold link chain necklace that would only set ablaze the collarbone in which it’d sit. The irony of how I’d cried a million of my own tears on the walk over was not lost on me.

The closeness I maintained with my family tended to bring about tears like that occasionally. See, if I was the piece of coal I saw myself as being, then it would’ve been easy to crumble under pressure. Pressure applied by my parents.