Ancona, Italy.
Donato Rossi, leaning on his cane, leaned over the balcony of the grand house, checking out the vast vineyards. A satisfied smile played on his lips as he watched workers busy with the harvest. Every year, they threw a big party when they gathered the grapes and turned them into wine. But his eyes clouded with sadness, and a sigh escaped him as he thought of his late wife.
"If only you could see this, Gianna," he muttered, his voice cracking. The memory of her brought a sharp ache to his chest, an emptiness in his soul that nothing or no one had managed to fill.
"Godfather!"
Sarah's voice broke him from his thoughts. Donato shook his head, took a deep breath, and greeted her with a warm smile.
"Hello, dear. What are you doing here?" he asked, looking around, expecting t
