The morning after the revelation was somber. A quiet, efficient medical transport team arrived, coordinated by Leo, to move Mateo Vargas to the prestigious neurological institute in Zurich. Elara, her face marked by a fragile, terrified hope, held Dante's hands before leaving.
"Your mother," she said, her voice thick with unshed tears, pressing a small, velvet-wrapped object into his palm. "She wanted you to have this when you became a man. I think… I think that day is today."
She left with her son, a lifetime of secrets and fear finally lifted. This departure created a new, gaping hole in the Moretti household. Dante slowly unwrapped the object. It was a simple, heavy signet ring made of onyx and gold, featuring the Moretti family crest. It had belonged to his father. It symbolized a legacy he now had to redefine.
He slid it onto his finger. It was a perfect fit.
When the door closed, the brief interlude of grief ended. Dante became a different person. The cold, controlled CEO was gone. In his place stood a general ready for total war.
"Leo," he said, his voice now filled with a chilling authority. "Activate Ghost Protocol."
Leo's normally stoic face showed a flicker of surprise, the only hint of the weight behind the order. He nodded. "Yes, sir."
Within the hour, the war room changed. Two new figures entered through the private elevator, shifting the room's energy. The first was a man in his late fifties named Elias Vance, a former MI6 intelligence analyst who Dante's father had once trusted for sensitive corporate espionage. He looked grizzled, with tired eyes that had seen too much and a sharp mind. The second was a woman in her late twenties who went by the name 'Nyx.' With neon-streaked hair and several complex piercings, she resembled a punk artist more than one of Europe's most notorious grey-hat hackers.
"Elias, Nyx," Dante greeted them, his tone business-like. "The rules are simple. There are no rules. We are hunting a ghost called the Syndicate. Their symbol is the Ouroboros. They are old, they are powerful, and they killed my parents. You report to me, and you report to Miss Rossi." He gestured to me, and the authority in his gaze left no room for doubt. "Her analysis is my direct command. Understood?"
They both nodded, their eyes assessing me with curiosity and professional respect. I was no longer a civilian caught in the crossfire. I was now part of the command structure.
"First order of business," Dante continued, turning to the evidence board, "is to learn everything we can about this symbol. Elias, go through every piece of underworld lore and every whisper from your old contacts. Nyx, scrub the deep web for any mention, no matter how obscure. I want to know where this serpent originated."
The new war had begun. As I took my place at the head of the conference table, Dante's father's ring a dark, heavy presence on his hand, I knew this was a fight we had to win. Because for the Syndicate, erasing one generation of Morettis hadn't been enough.