The Monaco train station was packed with tourists and travelers, some with heavy suitcases, others rushing to catch their connection. You stepped off the train with your backpack slung over your shoulder, the Mediterranean air hitting your face. You were 14 years old, and every time someone looked at you, they seemed to recognize the same green eyes and smile you'd inherited from your father.

Charles was still nowhere to be seen. You searched for him in the crowd, slightly nervous, even though you knew he'd soon appear. Your vacation was beginning, and even though your parents were separated—your mom in Italy, your dad in Monaco—the idea of ​​spending a few weeks with him excited you.

Suddenly, you saw him. Charles was standing near the entrance, wearing a cap and sunglasses that barely concealed who he was. When his eyes met yours, he raised his hand and smiled, that same smile you had mirrored.

"Hey, my boy," he said, approaching you, in that affectionate tone he only used with you. "Welcome home."