Rain poured heavily across the streets of Germany.

Cold wind.

Empty roads.

And in the middle of it—

Arshia was running.

Her breathing uneven.

Mind restless.

Something felt horribly wrong.

Divyanka missing.

Kavira missing.

Aaron not answering.

Karl furious.

And that terrifying feeling in her chest kept growing.

“Where are they…” she whispered shakily.

Then suddenly—

THUD.

She collided hard into someone.

Strong hands grabbed her arms before she could fall.

Arshia looked up instantly.

Tall.

Black coat.

Sharp jawline.

Dangerously calm eyes.

And annoyingly handsome.

Damon Gilbert.

Arshia frowned immediately.

“You?”

Damon smirked slightly.

“Well that’s rude.”

“No hello?”

“No thank you for saving me from falling?”

Arshia recognized him instantly.

The same man from the party.

The one who made disgusting comments about Kavira.

The one Karl humiliated publicly afterward.

And ever since then—

Damon Gilbert hated the Casanovas.

Especially Karl.

Arshia stepped back instantly.

“I don’t have time.”

Damon tilted his head slightly.

“Actually…”

His smile darkened.

“…you do.”

Before Arshia could react—

someone covered her mouth from behind.

Her eyes widened.

“What the—”

A syringe pierced her neck.

Her vision blurred immediately.

Damon caught her before she collapsed completely.

“Easy, doctor,” he murmured calmly.

Then his phone rang.

Friedrich.

Damon answered lazily.

“Done.”

Meanwhile—

inside the hijacked plane—

Friedrich sat comfortably while masked men controlled terrified passengers around them.

Kavira sat frozen beside two armed men.

Her eyes red from crying.

And nearby—

Divyanka still slept unconscious after the pill.

Friedrich looked at his phone and grinned.

Then he video-called Karl again.

Karl answered instantly.

The moment Friedrich’s face appeared—

the entire room around Karl turned silent.

Even mafia men looked nervous now.

Friedrich smiled brightly.

“Good news.”

Karl said nothing.

Dangerous silence.

Friedrich laughed softly.

“Oh and Karl…”

He leaned back dramatically.

“I forgot to tell you something.”

Aaron looked up sharply too.

Friedrich grinned wider.

“I thought Arshia would feel lonely.”

Aaron’s jaw clenched instantly.

“So I picked her too.”

Silence.

Dead silence.

Then Friedrich laughed loudly.

“See? I’m such a caring person.”

“I don’t let friends stay separated.”

Aaron’s face turned terrifyingly cold now.

“Where is she?”

Friedrich smirked.

“With Damon.”

Karl’s eyes narrowed instantly.

“Damon Gilbert.”

Friedrich smiled slowly.

“Yes.”

The same Damon Karl humiliated months ago.

The same Damon waiting for revenge.

Friedrich looked at them both calmly now.

“You know what’s funny?”

He rested his chin on his hand.

“All of this chaos…”

His eyes darkened.

“…started because your father taught you violence before love.”

And suddenly—

the past returned.

Flashback — The Origin of Casanova Blood

Karl Casanova’s father.

Reinhardt Casanova.

A name feared across Europe decades ago.

Before Karl.

Before Aaron.

Before Friedrich.

There was Reinhardt.

The monster who built the empire.

But Reinhardt wasn’t born powerful.

No.

He was born starving.

Cold.

Abused.

In the streets of Berlin.

At thirteen— he stabbed a man for bread.

At sixteen— he joined underground weapon smugglers.

At nineteen— he burned an entire mafia family alive inside a warehouse after they betrayed him.

People said the fire burned for two days.

People screamed from inside.

And Reinhardt watched without blinking.

That night—

the Casanova bloodline was born.

Not as businessmen.

Not as humans.

As predators.

He married a woman named Floraa Casanova not because he loved her—

but because her family controlled political power.

Together they created:

illegal weapon routes

underground trafficking systems

political blackmail networks

private armies

And then came the three sons.

Karl.

Aaron.

Friedrich.

Reinhardt raised them brutally.

Love was weakness.

Fear was survival.

At age ten— Karl was forced to watch executions.

At twelve— Aaron learned surgery by treating gunshot wounds secretly.

At thirteen— Friedrich smiled during his first murder.

And Reinhardt praised him for it.

Only one rule existed in the Casanova house:

“If the world fears you, it cannot hurt you.”

Karl followed the rule.

Aaron questioned the rule.

Friedrich enjoyed the rule.

And that difference destroyed the family slowly.

Present Time

Karl stood motionless after remembering everything.

Kavira’s voice echoed in his mind:

“People like you don’t know how to love.”

Maybe she was right.

Because men raised by monsters rarely became gentle.

Aaron looked at the tracking screen angrily.

“We need locations NOW.”

Mafia members instantly started working.

Screens flashing.

Weapons loading.

Cars preparing.

Meanwhile—

inside Damon Gilbert’s mansion—

Arshia slowly opened her eyes.

Her head hurt badly.

She looked around carefully.

Dark room.

Luxury interior.

And Damon sitting casually nearby drinking wine.

“Well,” he said calmly,

“good evening.”

Arshia glared instantly.

“You kidnapped me.”

Damon smiled proudly.

“Technically yes.”

“You’re insane.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

Arshia tried standing up.

Damon spoke softly:

“Relax.”

She froze slightly.

Because suddenly—

his playful expression disappeared completely.

Cold eyes now.

Dangerous.

“Things are about to become very ugly, doctor.”

And somewhere far away—

the hijacked plane continued flying through the storm.