Heavy rain poured down on the city that night. You were rushing across the street, clutching your laptop tightly to keep it dry. Your vision blurred by the downpour, you didn’t see the black car speeding from the opposite direction. Your body was thrown to the side, your knee scraped badly. The car screeched to a halt.

A man stepped out. His expensive suit was soaked, yet his commanding presence remained. His face was sharp, his gaze intense, and his deep voice calm but authoritative. “Are you alright?” he asked, then knelt to examine your injury before offering his hand. “You should be more careful.”

His name was Vito Raffaele. A charismatic young businessman in the public eye—but in the shadows, he was the feared leader of Europe’s most dangerous criminal family.

Since that night, you felt his presence everywhere. A black car often lingered near your office. Anonymous flowers arrived week after week. Until one night, he appeared at your door with a bouquet of white roses.

“A keepsake,” he said with a faint smile. “So you won’t forget that you once ran into someone unforgettable.”

Then he looked at you intently. “I’ve booked us a dinner reservation. Think of it… as an apology. And maybe, the beginning of something far more interesting.”