Chapter 4:Ghosts don't die
1302 Words
Kriela’s fingers shook as she held the photograph.
Her father’s face stared back at her ; older, rougher, but alive.
The scar on his cheek, the tired look in his eyes, the curve of his mouth, she would know them anywhere.
Her breath caught.
Her knees almost gave way.
He was supposed to be dead.
She had seen the fire, smelled the smoke, watched the ground swallow what was left.
So how could this picture exist?
And why was it hidden here, inside Miano De Qanto’s office?
The room felt colder now.
The shadows seemed to move closer, pressing in around her.
She forced herself to think.
If Miano had this photo, it meant one of two things, either he knew her father was alive, or he had kept it from everyone.
Either way, it was dangerous.
She slipped the photo into her bag. Her pulse hammered so loud she could hear it.
She tried to breathe, but every breath tasted like fear.
Then, footsteps.
Slow. Heavy.
Getting closer.
She froze.
The elevator chimed.
She moved fast, shoving the drawer closed, smoothing her skirt, pretending to arrange the papers on her desk.
The door opened.
Miano stepped out.
His face calm, his eyes unreadable.
“Still here, Miss Russo?” he asked.
His voice was low, like velvet and steel.
She swallowed, forcing a smile. “I was finishing the report you wanted.”
He glanced at his watch. “At midnight?”
She gave a small shrug. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Miano watched her closely, as if weighing every word, every movement.
Then he walked past her, his scent brushing the air , smoke, cedar, something colder underneath.
At his office door, he paused. “Did you touch anything?”
Kriela’s heart almost stopped.
“No, sir,” she said, her voice steady.
He looked back at her. His eyes were calm, but there was something dangerous there too.
“Good,” he said softly. “Because there are things in this room that could burn you alive.”
She didn’t know if it was a warning or a threat.
He turned and disappeared into his office.
She didn’t move until she heard the click of the door closing behind him.
That night, in her small apartment, she sat on the bed staring at the photograph again.
Her father stood in front of a small warehouse building.
Behind him was a faded sign in Spanish: “Sangue Nova Imports.”
She typed the name into a search bar, nothing came up.
No address, no website, no trace.
Like it didn’t exist.
Her hands trembled. “Where are you, Papa?” she whispered.
And why does Miano have your picture?
She slipped the photograph into her diary, just under her list of revenge.
Then she added a fourth line:
Four: Find my father.
The next morning, Miano’s office felt different.
Colder. Quieter.
Even the air seemed to carry secrets.
When Kriela arrived, he was already there.
He didn’t look up from his papers when he spoke.
“You didn’t sleep last night.”
The words made her freeze.
“How do you know?” she asked.
He finally looked at her. “You have that look, like someone who’s been talking to ghosts.”
She tried to smile. “Maybe I was.”
He studied her a moment longer. “Be careful. Ghosts have a habit of talking back.”
Her chest tightened. “Is that a warning?”
“An observation,” he said quietly. Then he handed her a sealed envelope.
“Take this to Lucas. South Wing. Hand it only to him. No one else.”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
She turned to leave, but he spoke again.
“Lana.”
It startled her, the way her fake name sounded in his voice, soft but sharp.
“Yes?”
He leaned back in his chair. “Trust is a dangerous currency in this world. Spend it slowly.”
She hesitated. “I could say the same to you.”
Something flickered in his eyes, a brief spark of amusement, or maybe respect.
“You learn fast,” he said.
The South Wing was quieter than the rest of the building.
Dim lights. Guards that looked half-bored but not really.
Kriela found Lucas in a side office, leaning against a desk, his sleeves rolled up, a cigarette between his fingers.
“Miss Russo,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “My cousin sent you?”
“Yes,” she said, handing him the envelope. “He said it’s for you only.”
Lucas took it, turning it over slowly in his hand.
He didn’t open it.
Instead, he looked at her.
“You like working for Miano?”
She hesitated. “He’s… demanding.”
Lucas smirked. “That’s one word for it. Careful with him, though. He likes to play with fire.”
“So do I,” she said softly.
He laughed, low and dark. “Good. Maybe you’ll survive longer than the last one.”
Her pulse spiked. “The last one?”
He leaned in slightly. “Marco. The assistant before you.”
“I thought he was transferred.”
Lucas flicked ash from his cigarette, his smile turning thin. “That’s what Miano said, didn’t he?”
“What happened to him?” she asked.
Lucas looked at her a moment, then shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”
She felt the lie between them hang in the air.
A lie that smelled like smoke and blood.
“Tell Miano I got it,” he said, nodding at the envelope.
She left, her chest heavy.
Back at her desk, she saw Miano waiting by the window again.
He didn’t turn when she entered.
“Did you give it to him?”
“Yes.”
“Did he open it?”
“No.”
He turned now, his eyes searching hers. “Good. Then it means he still knows when not to.”
She frowned. “You don’t trust him?”
“I trust him enough to test him,” Miano said quietly.
He walked past her, stopping by her desk. His voice lowered.
“Do you ever test people, Miss Russo?”
She met his gaze. “All the time.”
Their eyes held for a moment too long.
Something unspoken passed between them, not warmth, not coldness, just a pull.
Then he stepped back. “Be careful with Lucas. He likes to dig.”
“So do I,” she said.
He gave her a small, tired smile. “Then maybe we’re both standing on the same grave.”
That night, Kriela returned to her apartment, mind spinning.
She placed the photograph on her table again.
Her father’s face stared back, silent.
She touched the corner of the picture. The edge was torn — but not by accident. It looked like someone had tried to erase part of the background.
She tilted it under the light.
Behind her father, almost hidden in shadow, was a faint outline. A man’s figure.
Tall. Broad shoulders.
Unmistakable.
Her breath caught.
Miano.
She stumbled back, heart pounding.
It couldn’t be.
Maybe it was a trick of light. Maybe her mind was seeing what it wanted.
But deep inside, she knew that wasn’t just any shadow.
If her father was alive, then Miano knew more than he let on.
Maybe he had lied.
Maybe he had saved him.
Or maybe he had been the one who never let him die.
Kriela sat on the bed, her heart racing.
She had come to destroy Miano De Qanto.
But what if the truth destroyed her first?
Outside, thunder rolled through the city.
And somewhere inside that storm, secrets began to wake.
- Writer
