Harry could be many things, but none of them were good.

Cold. Calculating. Terrifying.

A man currently serving a sentence in a maximum-security prison in Italy for trafficking drugs and weapons.

Two years ago, Harry began serving a sentence of more than thirty years behind those walls. Honestly, it wasn’t something that worried him much. Being one of the most powerful traffickers in Milan had its advantages. Harry had stepped foot in that prison enough times to know exactly what to expect — and that, in another year or so, just like always, he would be walking out a free man again.

That was the benefit of having people of very high rank quite literally bought.

Inside the prison he was someone to be feared. His days were relatively quiet because no one dared to cross him. Most of the inmates watched his back, practically bought with whatever they needed. Still, Harry never hesitated to break a neck or face someone head-on if they were foolish enough to push him at the wrong moment.

Nothing really entertained Harry.

The so-called Monster of Milan only cared about his work, his operations, and returning to his business the moment he was released after serving his usual three dirty years behind bars.

Until one day, something else caught his attention.

He was sitting inside his cell when one of the guards brought the daily mail — the usual letters confirming everything was running smoothly under the supervision of his right-hand man, Mitch. A few quality cigarettes, a bit of personal supply, and—

A letter.

A letter with the prison’s address written on the envelope.

It didn’t have his name on it. No indication it was meant for him.

But it carried a scent of cotton candy and roses that could drive anyone mad.

So he opened it.

And the moment he did — between the elegant cursive handwriting and the words written on the page — something that almost resembled a smile appeared on the lips of the Monster of Milan.

Maybe writing letters would be his distraction for the next year.