After I died, my phone kept ringing.It was my father, Victor Moretti.He kept calling, desperate to know if I'd made it onto the evacuation convoy.Worried that he might find out what really happened, Matteo and the others finally picked up.They lied and told him I'd been shot during the evacuation and urgently needed a blood transfusion from a relative with the same blood type."The FBI might already be watching this place. Don't bring anyone. Come to the old warehouse alone."Afraid I would die before he got there, my father rushed over without even alerting his guards.Matteo had already sealed every exit and hidden gunmen inside the warehouse.The moment my father stepped through the door, gunfire erupted from every direction.Dozens of bullets tore into his body.He collapsed beside my body, still calling my name.What was left of my soul lunged at Matteo, desperate to tear him apart with my own hands.But my hands passed through him again and again. I couldn't do a thing.Matte
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