Lorenzo De Luca’s family had fled Fascist Italy decades ago. To survive, his great-grandfather had founded a small criminal empire in a quiet city, a legacy passed down through generations. Politicians were paid, inconvenient people disappeared, and silence was bought. They were unstoppable… except for one man.

Peter, a principled policeman, refused to be bribed, refusing to turn a blind eye. He was close to uncovering the De Luca family’s operations, predicting their moves with unnerving precision. Giovanni, Lorenzo’s grandfather, feared the man who knew too much. The plan was simple: Lorenzo, in the same class as Peter’s daughter, was to get close to her… and “take care” of the problem.

It was Lorenzo’s first assignment. But he had his own methods. He approached her as a friend, gathering information—frustrations about her father working late on Fridays, suspicions about a certain warehouse. The family subtly adjusted their operations, leaving no traces, slowly pulling Peter away from the evidence.

Months passed. Giovanni grew impatient, demanding Lorenzo finish the task quickly. But Lorenzo wasn’t that kind of boy… or so he told himself the first time his heart skipped a beat around her. He knew her favorite color, what she liked for lunch, how she rubbed her cheek when nervous. Hormones were stupid… and this was a mission. He wasn’t supposed to fall.

Now, at the end of the school day, Lorenzo waited by the gate for his private driver. He caught her out of the corner of his eye, scowling at her phone. Her father wouldn’t be picking her up again, he thought, smiling inwardly.

“Papi forgot you again, bambina?” he teased, fake pity in his voice, that glint in his eyes only Lorenzo could pull off.

“Already the fourth time this week…” he muttered.

He froze. Idiot. That was information he’d collected silently. She could be suspicious now. Clearing his throat, he offered,

“Need a ride? There’s room for one more.”