Chapter 1 – The Last Peaceful Night (Part 1)

Rain had always fascinated nine-year-old Fiorella Romano.

She stood on the wide balcony of the Romano estate, tiny fingers resting against the cool marble railing as raindrops danced across the gardens below. The sprawling estate stretched beyond what her young eyes could measure—rows of ancient cypress trees, neatly trimmed hedges, marble fountains, and white roses her mother cared for every morning.

To everyone else, the Romano estate represented power, influence, and wealth.

To Fiorella...

It was simply home.

"Fiorella!"

Her father's familiar voice echoed from inside the mansion.

She spun around immediately, her long chestnut hair swaying behind her before she hurried through the open balcony doors.

"I'm coming!"

The marble corridors carried the sound of her laughter as she ran toward the library.

The room smelled of old books, polished wood, and freshly brewed coffee.

Her father sat beside the fireplace, reading through a stack of papers. Though people outside the estate knew him as a respected businessman whose calm presence commanded every room, Fiorella knew another side of him.

To her...

He was simply Daddy.

"You called me?"

He looked up over the edge of the papers before setting them aside.

"I've been waiting five whole minutes."

She gasped dramatically.

"Five minutes?"

He nodded.

"I was beginning to think someone forgot our chess match."

She placed both hands on her hips.

"I didn't forget."

"Oh?"

"I was studying the rain."

"And did the rain teach you how to beat me?"

She smiled confidently.

"It said you're definitely losing today."

A deep laugh escaped him.

"So confident."

He opened the wooden chessboard waiting between them.

"Take your seat then."

Fiorella climbed onto the chair opposite him, her feet barely reaching the floor.

"I'll be white."

"You always choose white."

"Because Mommy says white means hope."

Her father smiled.

"Your mother always has beautiful answers."

Before either of them could make the first move, soft footsteps approached.

A graceful woman appeared at the doorway carrying a tray of warm cookies.

"You two started without me?"

Fiorella's eyes sparkled.

"Mommy!"

She rushed into her mother's embrace.

The woman laughed as she kissed the top of her daughter's head.

"You'll catch a cold running around barefoot."

"But Daddy said we'd play."

Her father raised both hands.

"I said no such thing."

"You did."

"I don't remember."

"You have old memory."

"Oh?"

He pretended to look offended.

"I'm already old now?"

Her mother couldn't hold back her laughter.

"You walked right into that one."

Fiorella giggled.

"I win."

Her father sighed dramatically.

"I haven't even played my first chess move, and somehow I've already lost."

The room filled with warm laughter.

Moments like these were ordinary inside the Romano household.

There were no expensive gifts.

No discussions of wealth.

Only shared smiles, playful teasing, and quiet evenings together.

For Fiorella, that was enough.

Her mother poured tea while Fiorella stole another cookie.

"I saw that."

"No, you didn't."

"You have crumbs on your nose."

Fiorella quickly rubbed her face.

Her parents exchanged amused glances.

"My clever little detective," her mother teased.

"I'm not a detective."

"No?"

"I'm going to be stronger than Daddy."

Her father placed a hand over his heart.

"I've officially been replaced."

"You'll still get hugs."

"Well, that's something."

Dinner was served just after sunset.

The long dining table, capable of seating dozens of guests during celebrations, felt comfortably intimate with only the three of them gathered together.

Candles flickered gently as rain tapped against the tall windows.

"So," her mother asked, "what masterpiece did you create today?"

Fiorella immediately brightened.

"I painted our family."

"Oh?"

She nodded enthusiastically.

"Mommy has flowers."

Her mother smiled.

"That sounds lovely."

"Daddy has a serious face."

Her father frowned playfully.

"A serious face?"

"Yes."

"And what about you?"

"I drew myself smiling."

Her mother leaned closer.

"Why are you smiling?"

"Because I'm with both of you."

Silence settled around the table.

Not an uncomfortable silence.

A grateful one.

Her father reached across the table and gently squeezed her hand.

"You've already painted the most beautiful picture."

After dinner, the three wandered into the music room.

Her mother sat before the grand piano while Fiorella climbed onto the bench beside her.

"Teach me."

"Again?"

"I'll get it right this time."

Patiently, her mother guided her fingers over the keys.

One note.

Then another.

Some sounded beautiful.

Others made Fiorella wrinkle her nose.

Her father applauded every attempt anyway.

"Perfect."

"It wasn't perfect."

"It was perfect because you didn't give up."

She smiled shyly.

Outside, thunder rolled across the sky.

Far away.

Barely noticeable.

One of the household staff quietly entered the room.

"Sir..."

Her father turned.

The servant leaned close and whispered something.

It lasted only a few seconds.

When the servant stepped away, everything looked the same.

Yet somehow...

Everything had changed.

His smile had become smaller.

His eyes sharper.

Her mother noticed immediately.

"What is it?"

He offered a reassuring smile.

"Probably a misunderstanding."

She studied him for a long moment.

"You've never called something 'probably' before."

He gently brushed her hand.

"I'll check on it."

He stood, adjusting his jacket before looking at Fiorella.

"I'll be back before bedtime."

She crossed her arms.

"You still owe me a rematch."

"I remember."

"You promise?"

He walked over and knelt until they were eye level.

"I always keep my promises."

He tapped the tip of her nose.

"So you stay with Mommy."

She nodded.

"I'll wait."

As he walked toward the doorway, he glanced back one final time.

His wife.

His daughter.

The two people he loved more than anything.

For just a heartbeat, he seemed to memorize the scene.

Then he disappeared into the hallway.

Fiorella didn't notice the change in the atmosphere.

She simply believed her father would return in a few minutes, just as he always had.

She had no idea that the peaceful evening she wanted to hold onto forever was already beginning to slip away.

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