The sun was shining over Lake Como, but for Eimi, the world felt very cold. She was sitting on the white sofa in the living room, staring at her phone. It was the second day of Marco's trip to Paris. He had promised to call her at 8:00 AM.
It was now 11:00 AM.
Eimi had called his number twenty times. Every time, it went straight to the robotic voice of his voicemail. She tried to tell herself that the meeting was just running late. Maybe his phone battery died. Maybe he was in a basement where there was no signal.
But deep in her heart, she knew. Marco never broke a promise. Not after the shipyard. Not after they vowed to tell each other everything.
The News that Broke the World
Eimi stood up and walked to the large television in the library. She turned it on, and her breath stopped.
"Disaster in Paris," the news anchor said.
The screen showed the Moretti International building. It was a beautiful glass tower, but now the top floors were covered in black smoke. There had been a massive explosion during the board meeting. Fire trucks and ambulances were everywhere.
"We are hearing reports that Lorenzo Moretti and his grandson, Marco Moretti, were inside the building when the blast occurred," the reporter continued. "The police have not found any survivors from the top floor yet."
Eimi felt like the floor was moving. She grabbed the edge of the table to keep from falling. "No," she whispered. "No, Marco. You promised."
She felt a sharp pain in her chest. It wasn't just sadness; it was a physical weight that made it hard to breathe. She looked at the ring on her finger. It felt cold.
The Bloody Message
Suddenly, her phone vibrated in her hand. Her heart jumped. Is it him? She looked at the screen. It was a message from a number she didn't know. She opened it, and her blood turned to ice.
It was a photo. In the picture, she saw a floor covered in gray dust and red blood. Lying in the middle of the blood was Marco's silver watch. Eimi knew that watch perfectly. She had seen it on his wrist every day. The glass on the watch was broken, and the time was stopped at the exact moment of the explosion.
Under the photo, there were four words: "The debt is not paid."
Eimi fell to her knees. She dropped the phone on the rug. The silence of the villa was suddenly terrifying. She was alone. The guards at the gate didn't know yet. The servants were busy in the kitchen. No one knew that her world had just ended.
A New Strength
For ten minutes, Eimi just cried. she cried for the man who painted for her. She cried for the man who saved her in the woods. She cried for the life they were supposed to have.
But then, she remembered Marco's face at the shipyard. She remembered how he didn't give up, even when he was bleeding. She remembered how he fought for her.
"I am not a victim anymore," Eimi said to the empty room. Her voice was shaky, but it was there.
She stood up and wiped her tears. If the police hadn't found him, it meant there was still a chance. If someone sent her a photo of his watch, it meant someone wanted her to see it. It was a message. It was a game.
And Eimi was done playing by the rules.
The Secret Safe
Eimi remembered that Marco had a private safe in his study. He had told her the code a week ago. "In case something happens to me, Eimi, everything in here is yours."
She ran to the study and moved the painting of the lake. She typed in the numbers—their wedding date.
The safe clicked open.
Inside, there was a stack of cash, a black passport with a different name, and a small, encrypted laptop. There was also a letter addressed to her.
Eimi, it said in Marco's sharp handwriting. If you are reading this, it means I cannot reach you. Do not trust the police. Do not trust my grandfather's lawyers. Go to the address on the back of this paper. Find a man named Paolo. He is the only one who can help you.
Eimi's heart hammered. Marco had prepared for this. He knew his enemies were still out there. He knew that his grandfather's world was a dangerous place.
The Transformation
Eimi didn't pack a suitcase. She didn't take her fancy jewelry. She put on her sturdy boots and a dark trench coat. She grabbed the cash and the laptop from the safe.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were red, but they were no longer full of fear. They were full of fire. She looked like the woman Marco had protected—but now, she was the one who had to do the protecting.
She walked out of the villa through the back garden so the guards wouldn't see her. She didn't want to be "Mrs. Moretti" anymore. She needed to be invisible.
She caught a taxi to the train station, her mind racing. She was going back to Paris. She was going back to the city where she had been kidnapped, back to the city where her husband had disappeared.
As the train started to move, Eimi looked out at the Italian mountains. She didn't know if Marco was alive or dead. She didn't know who the enemy was. But she knew one thing for sure.
She would find him. And if anyone had hurt him, she would make them pay the debt herself.
The happy life was over. The hunt had begun.