Chapter 20 - Whispers in the Wind
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Two years later.
A quiet autumn storm blew gently across the valley, bringing a cool, refreshing rain that tapped softly against the high glass windows of our mountain villa.
I sat in my study, reviewing the annual report for the Hayes-Rossi Foundation—the charity organization Grace and I had established to help children and families escaping domestic violence across the country.
The phone on my desk chimed softly.
I answered it. “Adrian speaking.”
“Sir,” Marco’s voice came through the speaker, crisp and steady. “The final legal transfers for the old Rossi estate have cleared. The mansion has been completely demolished. A public park will be built on the grounds next spring.”
I smiled quietly, looking out the window toward the rain-drenched hills. “Good. Make sure the lavender gardens are planted near the center.”
“Will do, sir,” Marco said. Then he paused for a second. “Oh, one more thing arrived in the mail today. A letter from the federal correctional facility in Milan.”
My smile faded slightly, but my heart remained entirely calm.
“My mother or my father?” I asked.
“Your mother,” Marco replied. “She requested to see you before her transfer to the maximum-security wing.”
I looked across the hallway toward the living room.
Grace was sitting on the rug near the fireplace, laughing as three-year-old Leo showed her a bright painting he had drawn with his finger-paints. Their laughter bounced off the wooden beams, warm, pure, and full of life.
I looked back at the phone in my hand.
May you like
“Tell her no,” I said softly into the receiver. “I have no more business with ghosts.”
I hung up the phone, stood up from my desk, and walked out of the study toward the fireplace, leaving the dark legacy of the Rossi name behind in the quiet, fading rain.
