Novel & Cerita Ghost's Son

Mom always told me, "Your stomach's weak, you can't handle too much of it." It wasn't until much later that I understood — it wasn't that I couldn't eat it. She just didn't want to give me any. My voice came out cold. "I'm not going." Her tears spilled over all at once. "Ryan, how did you turn into this? That's your father!" I looked at her. "Does he even know I'm his son? When I had two ribs broken, you know what he said? He said, 'Looks like the lesson hasn't sunk in yet.'"

What the fuck? Giovanni yelled out to another psycho with an impressive beer gut and in a too small leather jacket to get the fucking car and drive it inside. Amber caught her father’s gaze. “Padre? What did you do? How did you make them have seizures?” “I cannot tell you all our secrets Figila.” “And Ghost was not a psycho I take it?” she said. “No. He was not one of us. Just a hired gun they brought in,” confirmed Giovanni.

Alex grumbled and I hummed, "I'll appear before my father when the time is right." "What about Ginevra, how would she know?" He asked. "You don't worry your head about that one. She'll definitely find me." She was, after all, the smartest woman I had ever known. The Ghost will be dead by the break of dawn. The Ghost—Ricardo Sanchez will undergo a rebirth by the break of dawn. But even in my confidence, my heart still shuddered with questions. Would I truly be dead by the break of dawn, or would the universe be kind enough to grant me an opportunity at yet another life?

Hawke and Xander Hawke together said, “So what , we have not done anything to you so why have you brought us here.” Ghost snapped, “You think you can fool us? How dare you and your son threaten my father! Have you forgotten that Mr. Thornfield has a daughter? Her name is Elara Thornfield.” Mr. Hawke stammered, “What… what are you saying?” Ghost smirked. “Yes, you guessed right. I am Elara Thornfield. I am also a Ghost. And anyone who learns this secret has no right to live in this world.”

When Benji's funeral was over, I headed to the hospital right away. Rosalind Lane's son, Kenneth Young, resided in a VIP ward. His arm was bandaged, and he could be seen chatting with Rosalind and Joshua animatedly. Joshua's expression crashed instantly the moment he saw me. He hurried out of the ward afterward. "Who told you to come here? Kenny's condition has just stabilized! Don't cause trouble for us, now!" "Joshua Tucker, your son is dead, and yet all you care about is another woman's son!" I roared at Joshua hysterically, earning shocked looks from Rosalind and Kenneth.

“Next thing we knew, he drove off without saying anything.” “What bad news?” I demanded, my patience fraying. He swallowed, his eyes flicking to the floor. “Ghost, his sister. She’s dead. She was murdered.” My eyes widened, shock slamming into me like a freight train. My hand flew to my mouth again, a gasp escaping before I could stop it. Ghost—Damon’s sister, the one he’d tried to call, the one he’d trusted—was dead. Murdered.

I gasped, bolting upright from the couch. Ghost burst through the back door, cloak flying behind him, wild-eyed for the first time since I’d met him. His gloves were off. That meant shit had gone sideways. “They found me,” he growled. “We need to go. Now.” “What do you mean they found you?!” Vittorio wheeled forward, face stone-hard, trying to rise from the couch. Ghost slammed the door shut behind him. “They followed me. I didn’t see it at first—shit—they must’ve caught me when I visited Franco’s daughter.”

My father was shocked, as if he hadn't quite grasped the words. "What?" His assistant said again, "I've tried every method, checked everywhere he might've gone. There's no sign of Jason." A frown pulled at my father's face, the first trace of unease flickering in his eyes.

Money laundering, part of a syndicate. I rise from the desk and scan the room again. On the shelves to the right, framed photos are lined up. His father appears in most of them, older and always dressed in suits. But what draws my eye is one photo near the end. Ghost’s father is standing beside a man I don’t recognize, and that man is holding a little girl’s hand. I step closer and narrow my eyes. It’s her. It’s Catherine. Maybe a teen, standing beside a man who might be her father. Standing beside Ghost’s father.

It wasn’t like he was going to be stepping into any big role right away like me. His old man goes by “Ghost” and I hope he’ll be like him. Ghost is kind of Grouch’s right hand. While I’m the enforcer, the one with the most flies, Ghost is usually the one who gets the guys that come into the basement. You’ll never see him coming until he’s putting zip ties on your wrists and a bag over your head. He’s a huge dude but he’s light footed and sneaky. Professional stalker is the term I use.