The night was quiet — too quiet.
A storm was brewing outside the Romano estate, thunder rolling across the hills like a warning. Alessia sat in her father's study, her attention buried in company reports, when a sudden crash shattered the silence.
Glass.
Ground floor.
She was on her feet instantly.
Guards rushed down the corridors, weapons drawn, but by the time they reached the scene, the intruder was gone. Only a broken window remained — and something else.
On the desk lay a single black envelope, sealed with crimson wax. No name. No logo. Just… silence.
Her father arrived moments later, eyes blazing. "Who did this?"
"No one we can trace," one of the guards replied. "They moved like they knew the grounds. Cameras went dark for exactly four minutes."
"Inside job," Don Romano muttered.
Alessia stepped forward, examining the envelope. "Or someone with access to our systems," she said coldly. "Someone who wants us to think it's an inside job."
She broke the seal carefully. Inside was a single piece of paper — blank, except for two words written in deep red ink:
"Debts bleed."
Her father's jaw tightened. "Vitale."
But Alessia shook her head slowly. "No. This isn't his style. Vitale plays games in boardrooms, not in shadows. This feels… different."
Her father turned to her, concern etched across his features. "Whoever it is, they know too much. You need to be careful."
"I'm always careful," she said softly, though her mind was already racing.
That night, when everyone else had gone to sleep, Alessia sat alone at her desk. The envelope lay open beside her, the faint scent of smoke still clinging to it. She stared out the window into the storm, her reflection ghostly in the glass.
Lightning flashed — and for a brief second, she thought she saw movement near the edge of the property. A shadow. Tall. Still. Watching.
Her heart skipped. She blinked — and the figure was gone.
The rational part of her told her it was just the storm, a trick of light and nerves. But the part of her that trusted instinct whispered something else.
Someone was watching.
Someone who moved like a ghost, who knew her name before she even spoke it.
And whoever they were — they weren't done yet.