What We Left in the Dark

Seven

The late afternoon sun slanted through the windows of my apartment, casting long shadows across the hardwood floors. The small space was cluttered with the remains of a busy day—papers strewn across the coffee table, a half-empty cup of tea on the kitchen counter, and my laptop still open, its screen filled with unfinished work. But my focus had long since drifted away from my tasks.

My phone buzzed on the couch beside me, and I reached for it, the familiar thrill of anticipation bubbling up as I saw Giancarlo's name on the screen. It had been two weeks since he left for Italy, the silence between us stretching longer than I had expected. The quiet made me restless, each day passing like an eternity without a word from him.

There was no message, just a photo. My breath caught as the image loaded—a view of the Ricci family's villa, bathed in the golden light of the Italian countryside. The sprawling estate looked as magnificent as ever, with its terracotta walls and ivy-covered facade, nestled amid gently rolling hills. Rows of vineyards stretched into the distance, their vibrant green leaves rustling in the warm breeze that seemed to emanate from the image itself. Though I had never visited, Giancarlo had described it to me many times. Now, seeing it for the first time, I could understand why it was so special to him.

"Thought you'd like this view." The text that came minutes after the photo was brief, typical of Giancarlo's understated style.

A soft smile curled my lips as I typed back, "It's stunning. How's your grandfather?"

The response was almost immediate, but it wasn't what I had expected: "He's doing better. I'm learning a lot from him while I'm here."

I frowned slightly, my fingers hesitating over the keyboard. Giancarlo's grandfather had always been a powerful figure in his life—a man of tradition and influence, respected and feared in equal measure. But there was something about Giancarlo's message that gave me pause, something in the way he mentioned "learning a lot" that felt... different.

"What kind of things are you learning?" I asked, my curiosity piqued by his vague reply.

This time, the response took longer, as if he were carefully choosing his words: "Let's just say I'm becoming more of a man, like him."

A shiver ran down my spine, the words settling into my mind with an unsettling weight. Giancarlo had always been confident, but there was a depth to his tone now, a sense of transformation that both intrigued and unnerved me. I knew how much he admired his grandfather, but this felt like more than just admiration—it felt like he was stepping into something larger, something I didn't fully understand.

"I'm glad he's doing better. I miss you," I wrote, deciding to leave my unease unspoken.

"I miss you too. I'll be back soon. Don't worry about me, Cat," came his final reply.

But as I stared at the screen, the feeling of unease only deepened. I tried to shake it off, telling myself it was just the distance, the unfamiliarity of his surroundings that was making him act differently. But deep down, I knew there was more to it than that.

The silence in my apartment seemed to grow heavier as the evening light faded. I had no way of knowing that this was the beginning of a much larger story, one that would eventually pull me into the shadows of the Ricci family's true legacy—a legacy steeped in tradition, power, and a dark underworld I had yet to discover.

Present Day

I blinked, the memory fading as the morning light filtered through the blinds of my bedroom. I hadn't slept much, my mind too preoccupied with the revelations of the previous night. The uneasy feeling I had pushed aside all those years ago had returned with a vengeance, and I knew there was only one way to deal with it.

I had to walk away from this case.

I dressed quickly, my movements methodical, almost robotic. The decision had taken root in my mind during the sleepless hours of the night, growing stronger with each passing minute. I would tell Matt that I could no longer represent Luca Ricci. The conflict of interest was too great, the potential for personal entanglements too risky. The stakes were too high, not just for my career, but for my own peace of mind.

Matt's office was a short walk from my own, and as I approached his door, I steeled myself for the conversation that was about to unfold. Knocking lightly, I waited for his voice to call me in.

"Catalina, come in," Matt said, looking up from his desk as I entered. He smiled, but it quickly faded when he saw the seriousness on my face. "What's going on? You look like you didn't sleep at all."

I shut the door behind me, taking a seat across from him. "I need to talk to you about the Gilded case."

Matt's expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned back in his chair. "What about it?"

I took a deep breath. "I can't take it on, Matt. There are... complications. Personal ones. I think it's best if I step aside and let someone else handle it."

Matt frowned, confusion and concern evident on his face. "What kind of complications? You were so eager to take this on, and now you want out? That's not like you."

"I know," I said, struggling to find the right words. "But something came up, something that makes it impossible for me to handle this case objectively. It's related to my past, and I can't afford to let it interfere with my work."

Matt's frown deepened. "Catalina, you're one of the best attorneys we have. If there's something you need to tell me—"

"It's personal," I interrupted, my voice firmer now. "And it's not something I can discuss. But trust me when I say that this is the right decision for the firm and for the client. Someone else should take over."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he considered my words. "You know this case was a personal favor, right? Luca Ricci came to us because of a recommendation from a very important contact. If we drop the ball on this—"

"We won't drop the ball," I assured him quickly. "I'll help transition the case to whoever you think is best. I'll make sure everything is in order. But I can't be the lead attorney. I just can't."

Matt studied me for a long moment, the silence stretching out uncomfortably between us. Finally, he nodded, though the disappointment in his eyes was clear. "Alright, Catalina. If you're sure this is what you need to do, I'll respect that. But I need you to understand how important this case is. If you're stepping down, I expect a full handover, no loose ends."

"You have my word," I replied, relief flooding through me despite the heaviness in my chest.

As I stood to leave, Matt called out to me one last time. "Catalina... whatever this is, I hope you're making the right choice."

I paused at the door, turning back to face him. "I hope so too, Matt. I really do."

With that, I left his office, my mind already turning to the next steps. Walking away from this case was supposed to bring me peace, but as I headed back to my desk, the uneasy feeling in my gut only seemed to grow. I had severed one tie, but the threads of the past were still tightly wound around me, refusing to let go.