The Cost of Her

ChapterTwo-GolfandCliffs

Romani’s POV

“You didn’t join us for golf today?” Vincenzo called from the veranda, voice warm and heavy with its usual command.

I turned, fastening the last button on my coat. “Thought I’d let you win for once.”

He laughed, that effortless, confident sound that came with age and power. “Save your pity. I’d have beaten you regardless.”

He poured himself a glass of something amber and rich before continuing, “No golf today, though. My daughter’s flight got delayed. I can’t seem to sleep knowing she’s still up there somewhere.”

I gave a polite nod, pretending not to notice the faint worry softening his tone. “You must be eager to have her home.”

His lips twitched, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes, not fully, anyway.

“She’s all I’ve got,” he said simply, eyes distant for a beat too long. Then, with that practiced smile of his: “You should drop by for dinner sometime. You’ve been vanishing lately.”

“Busy schedule,” I replied, forcing a half-smile. “But I’ll take you up on that.”

He waved dismissively. “You always say that.”

I chuckled under my breath and turned toward the drive, the weight of his gaze following me until I reached my car.

Vincenzo Gray, charming, persuasive, and as dangerous as they came.

He wasn’t as rich as the world remembered him.

The Gray fortune had faded quietly, the estate still glittered from the outside, but its marble halls were dimmer now, the staff fewer, the smiles tighter.

Old money never disappeared; it only learned to hide its cracks.

Vincenzo had learned that well.

His shiny grey hair had become his signature, a mark of age that somehow made him more commanding.

His physique, lean and deliberate, still carried the sharpness of a man twenty years younger.

Fifty-four, but he wore it like armor.

He’d taken a liking to me over golf and quiet business talks, maybe because I never flattered him.

Maybe because I reminded him of something he couldn’t control.

He liked me because I didn’t fawn. Because when others flattered, I listened. When others promised, I stayed silent.

Maybe he saw himself in that silence.

Or maybe he didn’t recognize what that silence hid.

The air outside was cooler than expected, the kind that nipped at the edges of your lungs.

I loosened my collar, sliding into the driver’s seat.

The leather was cold against my back, grounding.

I started the engine and waited for the tightness in my chest to ease. It didn’t.

It never did.

The steering wheel felt rough beneath my palms, the same old reminder that some ghosts live in muscle memory.

Four years. That’s all it had been. But grief doesn’t understand time, it lingers, reshaping itself into silence.

I had stopped trying to shake the feeling, that tightness that always came when I thought of Luca.

My best friend. The closest thing I ever had to a brother, to family. Long before blood and business ruined everything.

Luca’s laughter still haunted me sometimes, too loud, too pure for the world we grew up in.

And then one day, it just stopped.

The city blurred past my window, buildings shrinking into winding roads and fog-draped lights. Streetlamps flickered against the mist like tired eyes refusing to close.

I wasn’t sure where I was headed until I realized I’d taken the same route I used to avoid, the one that led to the bridge.

Luca used to call it the edge of the world.

Said it made him feel like everything bad could stay down there if he just shouted loud enough.

Now, it only echoed.

The GPS light blinked softly as I parked near the guardrail. The hum of the engine faded into the night’s low breeze. The sky above was bruised purple, the kind that smelled like rain and memory.

I stepped out, breathing in the cold until it bit. My breath fogged the air, disappearing almost instantly.

“You’d have laughed at me, wouldn’t you?” I muttered. “Sitting here like I’m visiting a ghost.”

The words barely left my mouth before the wind swallowed them whole, carrying them somewhere memory couldn’t follow.

The river below shimmered faintly, black glass swallowing the reflection of the bridge.

I traced the railing with my fingers, the metal rough and damp beneath my touch.

Every time I came here, and I told myself I wouldn’t, the same thought clung to me.

That if I looked down long enough, maybe I’d see him.

Luca.

The only person who’d ever seen through me, before I learned how to hide behind calm tones and careful words.

Maybe I came here to remember. Maybe to remind myself why I started all this.

Because revenge, like grief, doesn’t vanish, it only waits for the right moment to breathe again.

The wind picked up, dragging my thoughts apart.

I could almost hear his voice in it.

You’ll choke on all that silence someday, Romani.

Maybe I already was.

Something moved at the corner of my vision.

At first, I thought it was the fog shifting, but then I saw her, a girl standing at the far end of the bridge, framed by the silver glow of the moon.

Her figure was small against the vastness of it all, fragile even.

The wind pressed against her short black dress, leaving her slightly pale delicate skin exposed, her hair whipping across her face.

Her arms were trembling, or maybe it was just the cold.

I frowned, taking a hesitant step forward.

She looked young, too young to be out here alone at this hour.

Or maybe she just looked small, about five feet tall.

A shadow staggered near her, a man, swaying unsteadily, his voice slurred against the wind.

She flinched when he reached out, too close, too careless.

There was a stiffness in her posture, the kind that didn’t come from weather, but from fear.

My heart stilled.

She took a step forward.

Then another.

The air caught in my throat as I realized where she was standing.

Right at the edge.

The same spot.

The one Luca had stood on before the world swallowed him whole.

The wind howled louder, rattling the railing between us.

She gripped it like it was the only thing tethering her to this world.

For a brief, haunting moment, I saw him again.

His laughter. His eyes. That same recklessness.

Except this time, it wasn’t Luca standing there.

It was someone else.

Someone who didn’t know that ghosts never fall alone.