I stared at the message for a long moment, my face an unreadable mask, then dragged my finger across the screen and watched the words disappear into oblivion.

But just beneath it, something else caught my eye—a post from Piper's social media account.

Colino had taken her on the Family's private jet to chase the northern lights in some frozen corner of the world far from prying eyes.

In the ethereal green haze of the aurora, their silhouettes stood close together, intimate as conspirators. Matching rings glinted on their fingers—fingers tightly intertwined like the roots of a poisonous vine.

The caption pierced through me like a stiletto blade:

[He told me I'm the only one for him. He promised to protect me from all the cruelty in this world. How could I ever let go of a man like that?]

Below it, a cutesy account bearing cartoon couple avatars had commented:

[And no matter how far you try to run from me, I'll find you. I'll tie you to my side forever. So don't even try, silly girl.]

I didn't need to verify the source. I knew that tone—that possessive flair, that dark promise wrapped in honeyed words. That was Colino.

I could tell from the typing style alone.

I remembered the day I asked him to use matching couple avatars with me. He had rolled his eyes, his handsome face twisting with contempt.

"What are you, twelve? Can't you see I'm handling Family affairs? Now leave!"

And yet I had once dreamed of stargazing with him in the Alps—a stolen moment away from the shadows that governed our lives. I had planned the itinerary down to the smallest detail. He said he was too busy. Every time, that was the excuse: too busy.

Now I finally understood the truth that had been staring me in the face all along. He could be romantic. He could be tender and devoted. He just never chose to be that way with me.

I set the phone down on the starched hospital sheets, trying to blink back the sting behind my eyes.

That's when I noticed the envelope sitting quietly on the bedside table, cream-colored and expensive.

Inside it was a plane ticket. Departure in two days.

And a small note, written in an elegant hand:

[You're welcome. Hope you like the gift. For your wedding —V.]

So I was right. The man who had carried me through the darkness and delivered me to safety was none other than Vittorio Falcone—the ghost who had returned from the dead to become Colino's worst enemy.