Chapter 8 – Gardaland and Ghost Deals

Monday, June 23, 2025 – Day 8

10:03 AM – Upstairs Workspace, Officina22

The MechVerona call ended with polite nods and noncommittal phrases like "interesting roadmap," "solid traction," and the dreaded "we'll be in touch." But the real message came in a curt email twenty minutes later:

Thank you for your presentation. After careful consideration, MechVerona has decided to proceed with another vendor for this pilot. We will keep your team in mind for future opportunities.

Leonardo stared at the screen, silent.

Sofia sat across from him, coffee in hand, watching the tension build in his jaw.

"We didn't lose," she said finally. "We learned."

"We lost," Leonardo said, not bitter—just honest.

"Okay, fine. We lost. But you know what happens after a loss?"

"We work harder?"

"We eat junk food and scream on rollercoasters."

He looked up, confused.

Sofia held up two folded tickets. "Gardaland. I booked them last night. Just in case."

Leonardo blinked. "You pre-booked emotional damage control?"

"I'm not just a strategist," she said, standing up. "I'm your serotonin manager. Let's go."

2:41 PM – Gardaland Amusement Park, Lake Garda

Somewhere between a haunted house and a spinning pendulum ride, Leonardo finally smiled.

They weren't talking about quotes, leads, or procurement logic. They were arguing over which gelato flavor was most structurally sound in high wind.

Giulia, tagging along with oversized sunglasses and a tote full of backup chargers, had declared herself Minister of Vibes. She was currently sketching UX ideas on a napkin next to a pirate-themed churro stand.

"Okay," Sofia said, handing Leonardo a drink with a comically large straw. "We're doing this so we don't spiral. Just one day. No tech talk. Just funnel sugar into our blood and scream into the void."

Leonardo sipped. "You're a good captain."

"You're a stubborn ship," she replied, linking her arm through his. "But we're not sinking."

Meanwhile – Milan, Vitale Group Headquarters

Lorenzo Vitale stood in his glass-walled office, watching a private brief flicker across his screen. It listed the MechVerona decision, along with a confidential note:

The winning team: PartBridge. Financed via Argentum Partners S.A.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing. He knew he has to keep an eye on this compagny and he was right, it was financed by Argentum Partners S.A.

Argentum Partners. That wasn't just a name—it was a message. The internal faction, the sharks in his own boardroom, were moving fast. Planting their bets on alternative startups. Not because they believed in them—but because they wanted him out.

Backing PartBridge wasn't about parts. It was about politics.

He closed the report and pulled open a locked drawer. Inside was a thin folder, its tab labeled Arditi (Legacy).

Inside: sketches, printouts, and a letter from 2024.

A proposal for an adaptive tooling system. Signed by Giovanni Venturi.

Leonardo's father.

Lorenzo's sighed. He remembered the call, the coffee, the way Giovanni had gestured at a crumpled schematic, full of quiet passion.

They were going to build something together. Then Giovanni was gone. Too early. Too fast.

And now his son was here, building something else—different, but not so different.

Lorenzo reached for his phone and typed a new transfer.

Lorenzo Vitale Personal Fund – Project Codename: Ferryman

€150,000 initial angel transfer. Memo: For when they are ready.

He hit send, this sum was sent to his mentor Luca.

7:44 PM – Back at Officina22

They returned sunburned, full of sugar, and emotionally recalibrated.

"I needed that," Leonardo said, flopping onto the beanbag.

Sofia tossed him a bottle of water. "Told you. Now we pivot. New pitch, new target. We've got more buyers than ever and a designer who works in memes."

Giulia held up her sketch of their new onboarding flow. It featured the jetpack gear high-fiving a factory robot.

"Tomorrow," Leonardo said, "we start again."

Giulia raised a brow. "You're still calling this Day 8?"

"No," Leonardo said. "Tomorrow is Day One again. Yet better."

[Late that night – Officina22, ground floor]

Luca locked up the espresso machine, turned off the lights, then glanced toward the upstairs loft.

He smiled to himself.

That morning, a call had come through—Lorenzo again.

"Put them in the side room next to your office," Lorenzo had said. "They need a real space now."

Luca had grunted. "So I can keep feeding them advice and too much coffee?"

"No," Lorenzo had replied. "So you can teach them what you taught me."

Luca had paused, touched by something unspoken.

He looked up at the ceiling now, where quiet laughter still filtered down.

"I taught you how to fold napkins," Luca muttered to the empty bar. "But I'll teach these ones how not to fold."

He turned the lock and stepped into the night.