sia'

om, the only light coming from a small lamp that barely pushes back the shadows. The room smells faintly of old perfume and regret-a smell tha

end Marisa says as she knocks softly and steps in. He

hrug. "Maybe I have,

both listen to the creak of the old house settling. The

mit, my voice barely above a whisper. "Sometimes it feels like I can still s

m, Alessia. And for Livia too. It's like you trad

the day I sealed my fate with silent tears. "I did what I had to do," I say. "I sacri

she replies soft

like it is carrying voices from the past, voices of regret and pain. I le

smiled, how his voice once filled the silent gaps of my days. "I lost him," I

ls to the floor.

"Regret? Every single day, Marisa. I gave up my future,

ek, and I wonder if she feels the same burden of loss that I do. "I tried to be free," I

Maybe freedom was never meant to be sweet, Ale

sound of distant footsteps reminds me that tim

led with memories-old photographs, dusty letters, and a chair that still holds the faint imprint of Matteo's body. I stop by th

this same hell?" The anger burns hot in my chest. I hear footsteps behin

, his tone cautious. "You need to r

his concern. "I'm not talking to myse

ost, but you have to let the past go, even if it hurts. M

sy. Every time I try, his voice whispers i

ou're still angry abou

angry at myself, angry at him, angry at everyone who told me to be

need to speak to someone. Let the an

my own heart?" I step away, unable to bear the reminder of my guilt

keys, and the sound is raw and imperfect, much like the life I now lead. I begin to play a tune that Matteo

way a tear before answering. It's Marisa again, her face drawn with worry. "A

w, Marisa. But some nights,

y notes that float through the room. "Do you ever feel li

feel like I've been living in darkness since that day-the day

park of warmth. "Then maybe it's time to f

flame of hope, perhaps, or maybe just the bitterness of wanting to break f

dy. "Then we fight for a spark. Even the tinie

hts where the silence screamed louder than any cry. I think of Matteo's last words, of the promises I made

iced so much to protect her. And maybe that sacrifice still means som

the promise of something new, a chance to mend the broken pieces of my hear

e a black sedan pull up by the gate. The engine's rumble sets my nerves on edge, and I exchange a qu

eyes narrowing as she watches. "No, it does

mix of fear and anger churn inside me-anger that my life is constantly under th

eturns, his face pale. "Something's wrong," he whispers urg

do you mean, trouble? Who's it

... There's been an attack. A drive-by shooting near the estate. They

y spine. "A message? What

now. But it's not just about mon

e me. "Matteo's death... it was never just an acciden

e it's time we learned the truth about what happened all thos

and the heavy burden of what may come. "I sacrificed my own dreams for Livia," I say quietly. "But now, I

lessia. With us, with Livia, with your own heart. But y

"Then I'll fight," I say, my voice firm despite the tremor of fear. "I'll f

Marisa, the urgent warning from Luca, and the sound of that engine that promised more trouble. The darkness outside my wind

years of sorrow and regret. The guilt of giving up my dreams, the scars of loss-they all swirl together into a storm

barely touch my food. The clink of silverware and low murmur of conversation fill the dining room, b

I can see the shadows of fear in them. I lean over and gently squeeze her hand

as we step out into the garden for some fresh air. "But maybe

lowly. "I don't want to live in a cage," she whispe

ng every syllable. "We must learn what really happened to Matteo and why our family is under at

he trusts me, even if she can't speak. And that tr

urnal. Its pages are worn and stained, filled with simple words and raw emotions. I sit in the study, rea

uld be my undoing. I hoped one day she would see the truth, that

ng, for not fighting harder when he needed me most. "I'm so sorry, M

My father, stern and unforgiving, enters the room. His eyes sweep over the study, la

y voice. "Just looking for some peace, Father," I

shaken. I realize that every word, every glance, is loaded with meaning in thi

e, trying to capture the truth of my feelings without the artifice of fancy words. "I am tired of living in the

pression a mix of concern and resolve. "I found something in the archives," he

e," I say, setting down my pen

o Matteo, written by someone you know well. I thi

The letter reveals a secret meeting between Matteo and a mysterious figure-someone who warned him about our fa

he betrayed me. If you want to be free, you must learn to fight." I

een a lie. Father never cared about you or Livia. It was

his continue," I say, anger flaring. "I have to protect Li

rt. We need allies. And we ne

oughts of revenge, love, and the crushing weight of sacrifice. I feel the ghost of Matteo

rmined tone, "I will. I will fi

r all that has been lost. I dress slowly, each movement heavy with the burden of the past. In the mirror, I se

ch of us with a calculating coldness. Livia sits quietly beside me, her silence louder than words. I

hisper, "We will be fre

efore I can dwell on it, the conversation at the table is interrupte

h the air like a knife. "Ever

mething dangerous is brewing. The meeting is always a tense affair, a battleg

space with a cold, unyielding power. "We have received word of an attack near the es

anxious voices. I feel a knot tighten in my stom

sly. "Yes, attack. Consider it

ear, anger, and uncertainty. Livia shrinks in her seat, and I feel a surge of protec

"We need to act, Luca. This attack, these warnings-they're

e careful, Alessia. The closer you get to

ve no choice. Not when Li

shadow feels charged with secrets. I hear snippets of hushed conversations, warnings exchanged in whisper

of lukewarm tea in my hands, staring out at the darkness. I speak aloud, more to the night tha

back. Then, a soft rustle behind me. I spin around, heart pou

her voice barely a

ulders. "I know, Livia. I know. But I promise yo

e as if I were her last hope. "But what if it

firm yet soft. "Then we fight. We fight

, the storm feels almost comforting-a reminder that e

nd a note slipped under the door. I

ure. Meet me at midnight b

my grip. The idea of a friend in this sea of betrayal is both hopeful and terrifying. I

per to myself, "I will find the truth, no matter the cost." The resolve i

the window. I freeze. Another knock, softer this time. I peer out, but the darkness hides all. Was it the

, like a half-remembered dream. I can't tell if it's a threat or a plea. With trembling hands, I open the window

t this is only the beginning of a new chapter in my life-a chapter where the ghosts of the past and the thre

y scar, every tear, every moment of anger has carved out the space for my strength to grow. I am not the w

iet determination, "I will be free

r pain behind me. The house is filled with murmurs of secrets and lies, and I know that soon, I will have to confront them

r, as if expecting the mysteries of the past to march in and drag me back. Instead, I see only

ut into the light. Every step is heavy with the weight of five years of loss and longing, yet each

rouble brewing. I pause, listening closely. "...it won't stop until they're all gone..." a voice murmurs.

, I am also filled with an unyielding resolve. I will stand against the tide

of defiance as I whisper, "No

nravel the lies that have held us captive for too long. I can only hope that this