Crowned In Sin

Prologue

Crowned in Sin...

Lorenzo Mariano was not raised. He was forged.

In the Mariano family, love was a myth, and kindness was a weakness that got you killed. He was not taught how to be a son, only how to be a king.

His father, Stefano Mariano, was a ruthless man who saw emotions as a disease. Respect was not given; it was demanded. Disobedience was met with punishment, and weakness? It was erased.

Lorenzo was fourteen when his father threw him into the pit for the first time.

The underground training room was dark, damp, and smelled of sweat and blood. He stood there, breathing heavily, his ribs aching from the last hit. Across from him, an older man, twice his size, a trained killer.. stared at him, waiting for Stefano's command.

His father stood on the sidelines, arms crossed, eyes cold. "Again."

Lorenzo wiped the blood from his mouth and clenched his fists. "I can't-"

The slap came faster than he expected. Sharp, brutal, ringing through the room.

"You can't?" Stefano's voice was like ice. "A Mariano does not say 'can't.' A Mariano wins, or he dies."

Lorenzo's jaw tightened. His vision blurred from the sting, but he refused to look away.

"Now fight," Stefano ordered. "Or I will put a bullet in his head and make you clean up the mess."

Lorenzo knew it wasn't an empty threat.

So he fought. He fought with shaking hands and burning muscles. He fought until his knuckles split open, until his body screamed in protest. He fought because if he didn't, he wouldn't survive.

When the man finally fell, Lorenzo stood over him, gasping for air. Blood dripped from his fingers. His body ached. But he had won.

Stefano stepped forward, gripping his chin and forcing him to look up. His father's lips curled into something like approval. "Good."

And then, he let go.

"Now clean up."

No praise. No comfort. Just another lesson.

This was the Mariano way.

Whereas;

Ethan Blackwood was not raised with fists. He was raised with expectations.

His father, William Blackwood, was not a man of violence-he didn't need to be. His words alone could bring men to their knees.

The Blackwoods controlled the world in ways most people didn't even understand. Money. Influence. Fear. They didn't need bloodshed to win wars; they made sure those wars never started.

Ethan was sixteen when his father took him to his first negotiation.

The meeting was in an expensive restaurant, private, quiet. Across from them sat a man who had dared to betray the Blackwoods one of their own men, caught selling secrets.

William sipped his wine, calm as ever. Then, he spoke.

"You disappointed me, Robert."

The man across from him paled. He swallowed hard, gripping his napkin like it could save him. "Mr. Blackwood, I-I didn't mean to-"

William raised a hand, and the man shut up instantly.

Ethan watched, fascinated. His father didn't threaten. Didn't yell. He simply stared, expression unreadable, voice even.