Chapter 10 - Shadows in the Light
Three weeks later, the lake was peaceful once more. The summer air was warm, carrying the scent of blooming jasmine and fresh pine across the water.
In the gardens of the Moretti estate, a small stone cottage near the shore had been fully renovated. Fresh white curtains fluttered in the lake breeze, and colorful flower beds lined the path leading up to the wide porch.
Grace sat on the wooden porch, reading a book in the quiet warmth of the afternoon. She looked healthy, her cheeks restored with color, the constant anxiety that had plagued her face for years completely gone.
Down by the water's edge, Mia sat on a wooden dock, her legs dangling over the clear blue water. Scattered around her were brand-new drawing supplies—high-grade sketchpads, watercolor paints, and dozens of perfectly sharpened pencils Roman had bought for her from Milan.
Roman walked down the wooden dock, carrying two glasses of fresh lemonade. He set one down beside Mia and took a seat on the edge of the dock, his long legs hanging over the water. He wore a simple white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, looking more relaxed than his men had ever seen him in fifteen years.
"What are you drawing today, little artist?" Roman asked, sipping his drink.
Mia picked up her sketchbook and turned it toward him.
The drawing showed the grand estate, the sparkling lake, Grace sitting on the porch, and Roman sitting beside Mia on the dock under a bright, golden sky. It was a picture of complete peace, safety, and warmth.
"It's us," Mia said happily. "We're a family now."
Roman looked at the drawing for a long moment, a deep feeling of contentment settling into his chest. For the first time in his ruthless life, he felt a sense of purpose that went far beyond power and territory.
"It's a beautiful drawing, Mia," Roman said softly, reaching out to stroke her brown hair.
"Look at the back," Mia added, flipping the page over with a small finger.
Roman looked at the second page.
The smile on his face slowly faded.
On the back page, Mia had drawn a high cliff overlooking the lake from across the shore. Standing on top of the cliff was a tall, shadow-like figure wearing a dark coat, holding a pair of binoculars focused directly on the estate.
Beside the shadow figure, Mia had drawn a small, distinct emblem—a golden crown surrounded by three black stars.
Roman’s eyes narrowed into cold, razor-sharp focus. The golden crown was the mark of the Syndicate's High Council in Marseille—the ultimate masters who controlled all criminal families across Southern Europe.
Marco had been just a small pawn in a much grander, far more dangerous game.
Roman stared at the paper, feeling the familiar cold fire ignite within his blood once more. He looked across the wide expanse of Lake Como toward the distant green hills on the northern shore, where the shadows were already beginning to lengthen as the sun started to set.
Mia looked up at him, her brown eyes innocent and clear. "The man on the hill was watching us yesterday, Roman. Is he coming here too?"
May you like
Roman slowly stood up on the dock, placing his hand over Mia's small shoulder, his stance tall, dark, and completely unyielding against the evening sky.
"Let him come," Roman whispered quietly into the wind. "We'll be waiting."
