Chapter 2

The Volpe family estate was situated on private land, as heavily guarded as a fortress.

The armored car passed through multiple layers of security, driving for a full ten minutes before it reached the main house. The massive iron gates slid open, like the jaws of some great beast.

The moment I stepped out of the car, I could feel something was wrong with this place.

The lawns were impeccably manicured, yet they felt dead. The fountains were dry. Even on a hot summer day, a bone-chilling cold permeated the air.

The family butler, Giovanni, stood on the steps, his face fixed in a practiced but hollow smile.

"Signorina Aurora, please come inside."

Lorenzo floated beside me and gestured toward a Gothic-style chapel off to the side of the estate.

"See that woman on the chapel steps?"

I followed his gaze.

In the moonlight, a woman in a white lace dress was kneeling on the stone steps of the chapel, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling.

She had no feet. Below her dress, there was only a swirling black mist.

"I see her."

Lorenzo let out a low whistle. "Two years ago, Marco put her in the ground right there. Her ashes are buried under the rose bushes behind the chapel."

I didn't stop, walking straight toward the chapel. Giovanni froze behind me but didn't dare to call out.

As I reached the bottom of the steps, the female ghost's head snapped up. She lunged at me, her face a sickly pale green, her eye sockets empty black pits.

I stood my ground.

"He's not coming back," I said softly. "You can be at peace now."

The ghost froze. Her shoulders trembled, and she let out a faint whimper, as if a great weight had been lifted.

The black mist around her dissipated. Her form turned faint, then transparent, until she dissolved into a wisp of light that drifted toward the rose bushes.

Lorenzo's eyes lit up. "Damn, where'd you learn that trick?"

I ignored him and turned back toward the main house.

I entered the grand hall. A crystal chandelier illuminated the room like a stage.

In the center, a perfectly preserved woman sat on a sofa. She wore a deep purple velvet gown and a string of black pearls, but her eyes were as venomous as a snake's.

That must be Lorenzo's stepmother, Isabella. Beside her sat a young man with a slight resemblance to Lorenzo, but an air of depravity he could not quite hide.

Greed clung to the corners of his mouth. It had to be Marco.

A doctor with gold-rimmed glasses stood in the corner, bowing obsequiously.

"Is this the girl sent to settle the debt?" Isabella looked me up and down like livestock. "Her build is decent. Are her hands clean?"

Marco, a cigar dangling from his lips, chuckled. "Mother, any woman with a pulse will do. My brother can't feel a thing anyway. Might as well put an inflatable doll in his bed."

Lorenzo's spirit went rigid. He floated over and swung a heavy right hook at the back of Marco's head.

Smack!

Marco jolted and clutched the back of his head. "Who was that?"

The hall fell silent.

"What's wrong with you?" Isabella frowned.

"Nothing… just a mosquito," Marco said, rubbing his neck with a puzzled look.

He couldn't see Lorenzo, who was now standing right in front of his nose, his fists cracking audibly.

"That wasn't a mosquito," Lorenzo sneered. "A little gift from your dear older brother."

"Take her upstairs," Isabella said, flicking her nails. "Don't waste any more time. She will sleep in his room tonight. She is his wife now. She can start her duties. Cleaning his body, changing his sheets, it is all her job."

"Understood," I said flatly.

"Take her to Lorenzo's room," Marco gestured to the doctor with a jerk of his chin. "You go with her. Show her how to use the machines. Can't have my brother kicking the bucket on his wedding night. That would be bad luck."

I followed them upstairs. Lorenzo floated ahead, leading the way up a staircase lined with a deep red Persian rug, all the way to the master bedroom at the far end of the east wing.

The moment the door opened, the smell of disinfectant hit me, thick and cloying, mixed with the faint scent of rotting flowers.

The room was vast, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a dark, moonlit forest. In the center was a hospital bed surrounded by a ring of medical equipment. A man was lying on the bed.

It was Lorenzo's body.

He had lost a lot of weight. His cheekbones were prominent, his eye sockets sunken. He was hooked up to all sorts of monitoring tubes. The ventilator rose and fell with a rhythmic, cold, mechanical hiss.

Lorenzo's spirit drifted to the bedside and looked down at his own body, his brow furrowed in disgust.

"Fucking pathetic."

I walked over and lifted the sheet.

Marco and the doctor were peering in from the doorway. The doctor pushed up his glasses. "Signorina Aurora, please be careful with the tubes and wires. Especially this oxygen line…"

"I know what I'm doing," I cut him off without looking back. "You can leave now."

"Leave?" Marco raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. "I need to supervise you fulfilling your duties."

"I'm going to wash him," I said, turning to look at him. "You want to stay and watch?"

Marco blinked, then a vulgar grin spread across his face. "Well, aren't you direct. Fine. I'll have a smoke in the hall. Wouldn't want to interrupt your 'wedding night'."

He pulled the door shut, deliberately leaving it cracked open.

In the vast room, it was just me and Lorenzo's ghost.

"Hey," Lorenzo floated in front of me. "You're really going to do this?"

"How else am I supposed to keep him clean? Wait for his body to rot?" I went to the bathroom to get hot water.

"My body is so wasted," he said, his voice unusually hesitant. "It's pathetic."

"Perfect. I've never seen a mafia heir up close before. Today, I'll get an eyeful." I soaked a towel in hot water and wrung it out forcefully.

The Lorenzo on the bed remained lifeless. The ghostly Lorenzo, however, floated by the headboard and awkwardly looked away.

"Don't look too closely," he muttered.

I unbuttoned his hospital gown.

The body was indeed alarmingly thin, his ribs clearly visible. But his natural frame was still perfect. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and the lines of his firm abdominal muscles were still defined.

The totem tattoo symbolizing his family's power snaked from his chest, across a faint old scar, and down to his ribs.

With the hot towel, I began to wipe down his chest, inch by inch.

Suddenly, I felt a weight on my shoulder. Lorenzo's spirit had rested his chin in the crook of my neck.

"So warm," he exhaled, his breath brushing against my earlobe. "I almost forgot what the warmth of a living person feels like."

"Behave," I said in a low voice. "You're dripping water on the sheets."

"Aurora."

"What?"

"Thank you," he said, his voice completely serious. "In all these months, you're the first person to treat me like a human being."

I didn't answer. My hand moved down, wiping his abdomen.

The body on the bed was unresponsive, but Lorenzo's spirit stiffened.

"You don't need to wash there," he said, his voice suddenly hoarse.

"I have to wash his entire body." My movements didn't stop.

"If you go any lower…"

"What?"

"My body might not move, but my spirit is still connected to it," Lorenzo said through gritted teeth. "Aurora, you're taking advantage of me."

My hand paused. I looked up at him.

A faint blush had actually appeared on his translucent face.

"Lorenzo, if you want your body's functions to recover, you have to improve your circulation," I said, looking him straight in the eye. "This is physical stimulation therapy."

"Cut the crap," Lorenzo cursed under his breath. "You're just taking the opportunity to get your hands on me."

I smirked and continued downward.

Just as the towel passed over his thigh, the partially closed door was suddenly thrown open by Marco.

"What's taking so long? What are you two doing in there?"

He stormed into the room, his eyes immediately falling on the towel in my hand and Lorenzo's exposed legs.

Lorenzo's spirit spun around and roared at Marco. "Get out!"

Marco, of course, couldn't hear him. His gaze shifted between my hand and Lorenzo's naked legs, a disgusting smile forming on his face.

"Aurora, you're quite skilled at this," he said, stalking closer. "How about you give me a taste of that service too?"

Lorenzo lost it. He lunged at Marco to choke him, but his hands passed right through him.

"I'll kill you as a ghost!" he roared, his face contorted.

I slammed the towel into the basin, and the resulting splash sent a spray of water directly into Marco's face.

"Get out," I said, standing up and staring him down.

Marco wiped the water from his face, his expression darkening. "Did you just fucking throw water on me?"

"This is Lorenzo's room. From now on, no one comes in here but me."

I pointed to the door. "Marco, get this straight. This is the Volpe house. Lorenzo isn't dead yet, which means it's not your place to be in charge."

Marco closed the distance between us, his hand already raised.

"You've got a sharp tongue."

As his hand swung toward my face, I stood my ground, my eyes locked on his without blinking.

Just as his hand swung toward my face, a piercing sound erupted. BEEEEEP!

The life-monitor by the bed suddenly blared an ear-splitting alarm, its red light flashing frantically. On the screen, the slowly beating curve instantly flatlined into a dead straight line.

Marco jumped, his body trembling, his hand frozen in mid-air. His face went pale.

"What's happening?" he stammered, taking a panicked step back.

The doctor from outside stumbled into the room. "Mr. Marco! His heart rate has flatlined! Get help!"

Lorenzo's spirit stood frozen. He looked at his body, then turned to look at me.

"I didn't do that," he said, a little bewildered.

"I know."

I watched the heart-rate monitor display a perfectly flat, lifeless line.

"I did," I said, turning my head slightly to smile at Lorenzo. "Showtime."