The most loyal guardian he possessed advanced through the sea of silk dresses and tailored suits, his expression drained of color, his posture stiff with dread, while a phone trembled visibly within his grasp. Without speaking, Evan extended the device toward his employer.
Dario read the message.
“I am sorry, I cannot do this anymore, because I am at the airport with Nicolas.”
Nicolas Barone.
The rival he believed responsible for the assassination attempt that altered his existence.
The adversary whose name once represented vengeance, strategy, and unfinished war.
The words continued mercilessly.
“He offers me what you never could. A complete man. A future without confinement. I am exhausted, and Nicolas sends his regards. He says the bullet should have ended your story entirely.”
For a moment, the world ceased moving.
Sound evaporated into a hollow silence so profound it seemed unnatural, while something inside Dario fractured quietly, not with rage, but with an emptiness colder than anger itself. Evan’s hand slipped, triggering the attached audio without intention.
Laughter exploded across the garden.