LOGINMariella’s POVThe classy clinks of fancy cutlery filled the dining room as we had lunch. Luciano had invited some members of the Commission over. I couldn't exactly tell why, but everyone seemed to be acting rather strangely. I noticed some of the Commission members throwing furtive glances at me, which was weird since it wasn't their first time seeing me. I sat at the head of the table, munching on my food. Across from me, Luciano spoke with his usual calm authority, outlining logistics for the upcoming Commission meeting. I still felt uneasy. I could tell something was wrong, but I didn't know what. So I just assumed it was because of the recent series of events surrounding the rumor of Marcello being alive.As Luciano spoke, the room kept feeling more and more uneasy, like it had something to say but didn't know if it should. My eyes scanned everyone. On the surface, they seemed to be listening to what Luciano was saying but then again…their expressions. They looked worried. A
Luciano’s POVThe report was late. That alone was enough to irritate me. I didn’t look up as the door to my office opened. I already knew who it was. “You’re behind schedule,” I said calmly. There was a pause before he spoke.“My apologies, sir.”This was Rossi, one of the older men. Not original blood, though, but close enough. Loyal long before I took control.I finally lifted my gaze and found him standing. That was the first sign something was off. He always sat down after greeting.“What is it?” I asked. He hesitated. Just slightly. But I noticed. I always did. “It’s about Moretti,” he responded. I leaned back slowly. Moretti. Now that was a name I hadn’t heard in a while. “Explain.”Rossi exhaled quietly. “He didn’t report in this morning.”“That’s not unusual,” I said. “The men get careless every now and then.”He shook his head. “Not him.”That made me pause. Moretti was old guard, disciplined, and very predictable. He was the kind of man who survived years in this life be
Mariella’s POVWith the current series of events, I was rather confused. I felt like Luciano was hiding stuff from me. I didn't like the feeling of not knowing what was happening around me. My kids seemed to have returned to normal, though, thank goodness. I stood on the balcony, overlooking the entire estate. The guards and their dogs patrolled the perimeter outside. Even without being too observant, anyone could see a sharp increase in the number of CCTV cameras. Yet despite all this, I felt uneasy. I hadn't felt this uneasy since the last time I was at the convent. I desperately wanted to know what was going on. Was Marcello alive or not? There was one way for me to find out, a way I had promised myself to stop using. I stared at my gloved hands. Visions were rare occurrences for me now, not because I had lost my powers. But because I had determined not to use them. All those accidental brushes and touches? Gone for the most part. Luciano had bought me gloves so that I could int
Luciano’s POVBy morning…Marcello De Luca was dead again. At least, that’s what I was about to tell the world. The Commission chamber was full. Every seat was occupied, and every pair of eyes watched me, waiting. They had all heard something, not everything. But enough. In our world, rumors move fast. Really fast.I sat at the head of the table, calm and composed as ever. I needed to be. I couldn't let them see doubt or hesitation in me. It would cause a panic. For me to keep them under control, I needed to radiate an air of certainty and power even in the midst of the rumors. “Let's address the nonsense first,” I said, the room going silent. Greco leaned forward slightly.“There are whispers,” he said carefully.“Of course there are,” I shrugged. Ricci spoke next. “They say Marcello is alive,” he said, pausing and gauging my reaction. I gave him nothing, and then he continued. “They say he's back.”A heavy silence followed, filled with expectancy. I let it sit for a moment, leanin
Luciano’s POVI don’t believe in ghosts. I never did, not even as a child. I was raised to believe in facts, things that could be measured and verified independently of my feelings or beliefs. I didn't believe in Santa Claus, the tooth fairy, cupid, hell, I didn't even believe in God. The only law that guided me was that of cause and effect. Every action leaves a trace. Every move has a source.That’s how you survive in my world. That’s how you stay alive. So when something doesn’t make sense…you don't panic. You simply find out what's behind it and kill it. ---By morning, the entire estate was under scrutiny. I didn't trust anyone. I stood in the security room, watching the feeds cycle across the monitors, all the hallways, staircases, and entry points. Nothing went without my notice. If there was someone here working with Marcello, I would definitely find the person.Jose sat behind me, spinning slowly in a chair.“I’m just saying,” he muttered, “if this turns out to be some para
Mariella’s POVNo one slept that night. No one could. The mansion was quiet, but it wasn’t the peaceful kind of quiet. It was the weird kind of quiet that seemed to listen back. I sat at the edge of the twins’ bed, watching them. Antonio had insisted the lights stay on — could I blame him? I was scared, too. Elena, on the other hand, hadn’t said anything. But she hadn't opposed the suggestion either. That alone told me enough. They were both afraid, and so was I. Antonio shifted under the blanket, his small hand clutching the edge of my dress like if he let go, something would take me away.“Mama,” he whispered.“Yes, sweetie?”He hesitated. Then....“He’s still here,” he whispered. I felt my chest tighten. “Antonio…”“I can feel it, Mama.” He said. I smoothed his hair gently.“It’s just your imagination, honey,” I said. “Your Dad and Uncle Jose are handling the situation. No one can get past them, you know that, right?”He nodded. But even as I said it, the words felt wrong. Beca







