The Ghost Left Behind

Grace's tires crunched on gravel as she arrived at a secluded vineyard hidden in the hills of Tuscany.

This place once belonged to her father.

And inside lived Giorgio, his former consigliere—the man who disappeared the night Silvano died.

He opened the door before she knocked.

Older. Grey-eyed.

But his stare was still steel.

"I knew you'd come eventually," he said, without a smile.

Grace didn't bother with pleasantries.

She held up the locket.

"Why is he in this?"

Giorgio glanced at it.

Then walked back inside.

"You want answers, bambina? Then sit. And know this—truth costs more than blood."

She sat.

And listened.

---

Giorgio poured two glasses of dark red wine. The kind that tasted like old sins.

He began:

> "Luciano DeMarco wasn't just sworn to protect you.

He was groomed for it. Chosen by your father since he was thirteen.

You were his final redemption.

A life to guard. A legacy to preserve.

But Luciano failed."

Grace's heart dropped. "How?"

> "Because he fell in love with the one girl he was never meant to touch."

Giorgio lit a cigarette.

> "And once the Saint falls for the Sinner's daughter…

empires burn."

---

Elsewhere...

Luciano stood on the edge of a balcony in Rome, blood on his knuckles, his phone to his ear.

"She found Giorgio," Simon whispered from the other line.

Luciano didn't speak.

"She'll hate you when she knows the truth."

Luciano clenched the rail so hard it cracked.

"I already hate myself."

---

Grace rose from the table, wine untouched.

One final question burned in her throat.

> "Did my father know I'd fall for him?"

Giorgio's silence was deafening.

Then finally, he nodded.

> "He counted on it."