The estate has belonged to Luca's grandfather.Nico remembers coming here as a boy, running through these halls, hiding in these gardens, watching his older cousin learn to be a man before he is ready. The stone walls haven't changed. The iron gates haven't changed. The weight of the place — old money, older power — hasn't changed either.But Luca is different now.Nico parks his car — a red Ferrari that costs more than most people's houses — and steps out into the afternoon sun. He has been away too long. Six months. Maybe eight. Time blurs when you are traveling. Rome, Paris, Barcelona. Women who forget your name as quickly as you forget theirs. Nights that bleed into mornings. Mornings that bleed into flights.But now he is home.Not because he wants to be. Because Luca has called."Your father is asking about you."That is Luca's way of saying come home before I send someone to drag you back.So here he is.---The guards at the gate recognize him. They always do."Mr. Nico.""Enz
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