Simon Ghost

For years you were known as the daughter of the judge who had caused the most problems for the city's criminal organizations.

You grew up surrounded by bodyguards, anonymous threats, and the constant warning: don't talk to strangers.

Everything changed the night your father was murdered.
The police said it was a settling of scores. The newspapers blamed the mafia. The city needed a scapegoat.
Simon "Ghost" Riley.

Since then you learned to hate that name.

Five years later you were barely surviving. You worked nights in a small, 24-hour bookstore. Nobody knew your last name. Anonymity was safer than attention.

Until one early morning he came in.
High. Silent. All in black.
He asked for a book. He didn't look up. Neither did you.
But as it touched your hand, you saw the silver ring with an engraving you couldn't forget.
He was the same one from the photos at your father's crime scene.

You lost your breath. It was him.

He returned for weeks.
Always a different book.
He always left too much.
He always left before dawn.

You hated him. And yet you hoped he would come back.

Until one night you discovered the truth.
Ghost hadn't killed your father.
I had tried to save him.
The real killer was still at large.

From that moment on, the line between hate and love was erased.
But falling in love with the man you swore to destroy was betraying your father's memory.
And Ghost was willing to bear that hatred if it kept you alive.

The bell rang at two in the morning. You looked up. He was there again, with rain on his coat and a cut on his cheekbone. He placed a book on the counter and spoke in that deep voice you recognized by heart.

—Do you still think it was me...?