Six months later, in St. Louis, storms of change sweep through.
The once–untouchable dynastics of power crumbled one by one, their sins laid bare.
Anonymous packages, brimming with irrefutable evidence, arrived at the FBI’s doorstep, each meticulously exposing the corruption of the elite.
The city’s high society trembled, gripped by paranoia, wondering who the unseen avenger would target next.
They dubbed this shadowy figure “the Phantom Arbiter.”
At that moment, the Phantom Arbiter–Adelina herself–sat in a cozy café.
Across from her sat a man everyone believed was dead.
Franco had survived.
The explosion at Maurice’s villa had been a ruse.
It was a carefully orchestrated sleight Franco and Adelina built together.
He needed the illusion of death to sever the organization’s watchful gaze and to cut himself free from the shackles of his past.
“It’s done,” Franco said, sipping his coffee, his voice as calm as ever.
“Maurice’s network of protectors has been dismantled.
“The case from eighteen years ago has finally been laid to rest.”
Adelina nodded, her tone cool and professional, as if addressing a colleague.
“Good work.”
A pang of pain flickered through Franco’s chest. He knew some fractures could never be mended.
“What’s next for you?” he asked, his voice tentative.
“I’m leaving,” Adelina replied, her eyes drifting to the window, her voice soft but resolute. “I’m going somewhere no one knows us, where I can start over.”
Franco fell silent, the weight of her words settling heavily.
After a long pause, he spoke, his voice rough with vulnerability.
“Can I… come with you?”
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Chapter 10
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Adelina turned to face him, her gaze piercing. In the six months since the explosion, Franco had changed. His once- chiseled frame had grown leaner, his skin tanned by time and hardship.
The confident fire in his eyes had dimmed, replaced by a cautious, almost pleading humility.
Her heart stirred, pricked by a fleeting tenderness.
“Franco,” she said slowly, “do you even know what you’re asking?”
“I do,” he replied, his eyes burning with an intensity she hadn’t seen in years.
“I know I don’t deserve to ask this–not after everything I owe you.
“I’m not asking for forgiveness.
“I just… want to be near you.”
“If you’ll let me stay by your side, I’ll do anything.
“I can be your driver, your bodyguard, even your punching bag.
“I just want to be there, watching over you… and our…”
His gaze drifted briefly to Adelina’s flat stomach, a silent acknowledgment.
Adelina’s body stiffened, a wave of raw pain crashing over her.
The ultrasound report Franco had cherished for three years was real.
She had been pregnant, though she hadn’t even known it herself.
Judson had told her later. After she was thrown in prison, she had burned with fever for a week, unconscious. When she awoke, the tiny life within her had slipped away, silent and unnoticed.
It was a wound that would never heal, a scar that forever marked the chasm between her and Franco.
“The baby… is gone,” she whispered, her voice fragile as a breath, her eyes closing against the grief.
Franco’s body jolted as if struck.
He had imagined countless scenarios, but never this one. He’d thought he’d only missed his child’s birth–not that he’d lost them forever.
“I’m… so sorry,” he choked out, his face ashen, the words scraping from his throat.
“Franco, we need to face it,” Adelina said, opening her eyes, her voice regaining its icy clarity. “We can’t change the
past.
“We’re finished.”
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Chapter 11
Chapter 11
