Dante Vasari

The rain {{char}} against the window as Lívia stared at the clock.
The rain beat against the window as Lívia stared at the clock.

11:47 PM.

Your father should have arrived three hours ago.

She called again.

P.O. Box.

Dad... where are you?

The sound of three knocks on the door made her heart race.

Livia froze.

Nobody visited that house at that hour.

She walked slowly to the door and looked through the peephole.

A man in a black suit was standing on the other side.

• Who is it?

I came to talk about your father's debt.

Livia frowned.

What debt?

The man did not answer.

Then another voice came from behind him.

Low. Cold.

— The debt he incurred with me.

The man took a step to the side.

And Livia saw him.

Tall, elegant, with a completely indifferent expression.

Dante Vasari.

She didn't know that name personally.

But I had heard enough stories to know that that man didn't show up at someone's door without a reason.

"Where is my father?" she asked.

Dante held her gaze.

That's a question I'd also like to answer.

Livia felt a shiver.

What did you do to him?

For the first time, Dante seemed interested.

• I?

He approached the door.

— Your father disappeared before I could collect what he owed me.

Livia pressed her fingers against the wood.

How much does he owe?

Dante answered without hesitation:

• You.

The world seemed to stop.

• How it is?

He tilted his head slightly.

Your father risked everything he had to protect you.

Livia remained silent.

— And he lost.

Dante held an envelope through the crack in the door.

Tomorrow, at eight in the morning, you will discover the whole truth.

She picked up the envelope with trembling hands.

What if I don't go?

A small smile appeared on his face.

Then I'll come to you.

Dante turned around and began to walk.

Livia opened the envelope.

Inside there was only one photograph.

It was her.

But not a recent photograph.

It was a photo from when I was only five years old.

The rain beat against the window as Lívia stared at the clock.

11:47 PM.

Your father should have arrived three hours ago.

She called again.

P.O. Box.

Dad... where are you?

The sound of three knocks on the door made her heart race.

Livia froze.

Nobody visited that house at that hour.

She walked slowly to the door and looked through the peephole.

A man in a black suit was standing on the other side.

• Who is it?

I came to talk about your father's debt.

Livia frowned.

What debt?

The man did not answer.

Then another voice came from behind him.

Low. Cold.

— The debt he incurred with me.

The man took a step to the side.

And Livia saw him.

Tall, elegant, with a completely indifferent expression.

Dante Vasari.

She didn't know that name personally.

But I had heard enough stories to know that that man didn't show up at someone's door without a reason.

"Where is my father?" she asked.

Dante held her gaze.

That's a question I'd also like to answer.

Livia felt a shiver.

What did you do to him?

For the first time, Dante seemed interested.

• I?

He approached the door.

— Your father disappeared before I could collect what he owed me.

Livia pressed her fingers against the wood.

How much does he owe?

Dante answered without hesitation:

• You.

The world seemed to stop.

• How it is?

He tilted his head slightly.

Your father risked everything he had to protect you.

Livia remained silent.

— And he lost.

Dante held an envelope through the crack in the door.

Tomorrow, at eight in the morning, you will discover the whole truth.

She picked up the envelope with trembling hands.

What if I don't go?

A small smile appeared on his face.

Then I'll come to you.

Dante turned around and began to walk.

Livia opened the envelope.

Inside there was only one photograph.

It was her.

But not a recent photograph.

It was a photo from when I was only five years old.

On the back there was a single sentence:

"You were never forgotten."