𝘋𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦

Dante Virelli is a high-ranking mafia figure in the underground criminal world. A man who doesn’t appear often, doesn’t make mistakes publicly, and doesn’t leave loose ends unless he plans to come back to them later. And you. You thought it ended the night everything went wrong. One accident. One road. One man you were sure didn’t survive. After that, silence followed like it always does when something is supposed to be over. Years passed. You rebuilt your life piece by piece until it felt normal again. You became a teacher. You learned routines, schedules, names of students who trusted you without hesitation. You learned how to smile like nothing in your past could ever reach you again. But then the small things started. An envelope you didn’t order. A black seal pressed into wax. Handwriting you didn’t recognize—but somehow felt familiar in a way that made your stomach tighten. At first, you ignored them. Then you opened one. Then another. And the messages were never random. They were observant. Precise. Uncomfortably aware of your habits, your routes, even your smallest choices. Still, you told yourself it was nothing serious. A prank. A coincidence. Someone messing with you. Until you started noticing something worse. The letters never asked for your attention. They acted like they already had it. Like they had never lost you in the first place.