Luca’s POV
The television would not shut up.
Every channel. Every single one.
My face.
My name.
My voice from three years ago playing on loop like I had nothing better to do than give speeches for their entertainment.
I sat on the long leather sofa in the main sitting room with one ankle resting on my knee, remote in my hand, watching myself be torn apart by people who used to clap for me.
On the screen, a woman with too much makeup and not enough fear smiled like she had just discovered treasure.
“And here we have another document,” she said while lifting a file as if she had personally dug it out of the earth. “Financial irregularities linked directly to Luca De Santis.”
Irregularities.
I barked a short laugh and leaned forward, elbows on my knees.
“Say it properly,” I mutter
