Chapter 7 Foolish

• The Prince
• I’ve always known Ghost sneaks into the estate. It’s his thing—his twisted way of taunting me, pushing my buttons, trying to provoke a reaction. He’s relentless, like a shadow that refuses to stay where it belongs. But tonight? Tonight, the thought of him being here didn’t even cross my mind. It wasn’t even a consideration.
• That was my first mistake.
• I should have known better. Normally, I’m careful. I keep my time with Serena private, calculated, even rehearsed. I know where we can be seen, where we can’t. I’m meticulous because I have to be.
• So when I looked up—when I happened to glance at the window while I was buried in Serena—and saw him outside with some guy? That wasn’t just a shock. It was a gut punch. Dumbfounded doesn’t even begin to cover it. I felt… frozen. Confused. Lost.
• He was watching me. Watching us. He knew I was there, knew exactly what I was doing, and yet he didn’t flinch. He didn’t hide. He didn’t stop.
• And that guy he was with? I don’t know who he is, and I don’t care. What I care about is the reckless, destructive path Ghost is on. How he’s so willing to burn everything down—not just for himself but for his family too. He doesn’t give a damn about how his actions ripple outward. About what it means for his family’s reputation.
• But I do. That’s the difference between us. I can’t just give in to impulses, no matter how tempting, no matter how much they pull at me like a thread unraveling my carefully constructed life. I won’t be the reason my family’s name is dragged through the dirt.
• Ghost, though? He’s a fire with no boundaries. And tonight, that fire was blazing for everyone to see. If anyone else had seen him with that guy, in my estate, on my turf, it wouldn’t just be a scandal—it would be a disaster. Deals would collapse. Connections severed. The fallout would be catastrophic.
• He’s a walking wrecking ball, blind to the damage he’s causing—or worse, completely indifferent to it. His family’s legacy is crumbling under the weight of his recklessness, and he doesn’t seem to care. And as if the games he’s playing with me aren’t enough, now this?
• Serena shifts beside me, her body pressing closer to mine as she sleeps. Her warmth is grounding, a reminder of the life I’m supposed to have. The life I’ve carefully crafted to meet every expectation.
• But it doesn’t stop the thoughts. The memories.
• I’ve replayed it all in my mind a hundred times—those secret meetings, the stolen glances, the kiss. God, the kiss. The way it felt, the way it shook something loose in me. For a while, meeting him in secret had been the highlight of my days. A forbidden escape from everything I was supposed to be.
• It never went further than kissing, but even that was dangerous. And if I’m honest, I felt something for him. Something I can’t explain, something I don’t want to name.
• But feelings? Feelings don’t have a place in this world. Not for people like us.
• Ghost thinks I’m refusing to accept what happened, but he’s wrong. I’ve accepted it. I’ve accepted that we kissed, and I’ve accepted that it has to end there. Because it has to.
• He’s a rival. A sworn enemy. Someone I should have never let get so close. And in this world, there’s no room for anything but the straight and narrow. Not for heirs. Not for people like me.
• Ghost doesn’t care about any of that. He doesn’t care about rules, about traditions, about what’s at stake. Anyone could have seen him tonight, fucking that guy out in the open, right under my family’s nose. And then what?
• No. I can’t be like him. I won’t be like him.
• Because the truth is, Ghost might be willing to burn the world down for what he wants. But I can’t let him take me with him.
• Climbing out of bed, I move silently through the halls of the estate. The air feels heavy, weighted with the anticipation of violence. As I near the offices, my father’s sharp presence cuts through the stillness. He steps out, his expression hard as stone, his voice as cold as the steel he commands.
• “While you’re handling this issue with Ghost well enough, it’s time for more power,” he says, motioning for me to follow him into the office.
• Inside, the atmosphere is suffocating. His top enforcers are gathered, their postures tense, their gazes steely. My stomach twists into a knot. This isn’t good. Every time Ghost’s name comes up, I shield him—claiming I’ll handle it just to stop my father from escalating. But this? This feels different.
• “What’s the plan?” I ask, keeping my voice steady even as dread pools in my gut.
• “We get our shit back and send a message,” my father says, his tone final and unyielding. He slams a stack of blueprints onto the table, spreading them out with an air of grim determination. “I don’t care if it takes one dead body or fifty. It’s happening.”
• I step closer, scanning the blueprints. My chest tightens when I realize the target. “This is Marcello’s place. Is that really ideal? Killing their capo, their soldiers is one thing—killing their blood? It’s going to set off a war.”
• “He’s not getting the message, son,” my father growls, his gaze locking onto mine. “I let you try your way, and it’s only gotten worse. You’re going with them. Make sure a statement is made. Make sure the Morettis know we don’t sit back and take this anymore.”
• I nod, my jaw clenched tight. There’s no arguing with him when he’s like this. As I turn to leave, his voice halts me.
• “Vest,” he orders. “You don’t go into that place without it. And I want the body.”
• I freeze, his words sinking in like ice. I turn back to face him. “The body? You mean Marcello’s?”
• “Yes. Marcello. Ghost’s cousin, the Morettis’ nephew.” His voice is pure venom. “I want it here.”
• My chest feels hollow, and my stomach churns, but I nod. “I’ll make sure we bring it back.”
• I begin to leave again, but he stops me with a sigh. When I turn, there’s a flicker of something in his expression—something colder than before.
• “I’ve changed my mind,” he says, his voice low but firm. “Bring him back alive.”
• Alive. My heart sinks. Alive is harder, messier, and infinitely more dangerous. It also means Marcello is in for a night he won’t survive intact. Torture isn’t implied; it’s guaranteed. But I nod again, swallowing the lump in my throat.
• “Understood,” I say, forcing the word out. This time, he doesn’t stop me as I leave.
• Outside, the night air does nothing to clear my mind. I climb into the car, the convoy of vehicles behind me a grim reminder of what’s about to happen. I grip the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles white, as the weight of my father’s words presses down on me.
• He’s right about one thing: nothing I’ve done has deterred Ghost. Every attempt I’ve made to de-escalate, to fix this without bloodshed, has failed. Ghost knows the rules of this world better than anyone—keep pushing, and eventually, bodies start piling up.
• And now, his cousin’s life is the cost of his recklessness.
• My mind drifts to Ghost as the cars roll through the quiet streets. He thrives on chaos, on bending the rules to his will. But this? This is the consequence of his games. He needs to understand that every action has a price, and tonight, he’s going to pay it.
• The estate grows smaller in the distance, but the weight of my decision grows heavier. I’ve always been careful, always tried to walk the line between loyalty to my family and the tangled mess of emotions Ghost has stirred in me. But tonight, there’s no line.
• Tonight, I’ll do what has to be done. And if Ghost doesn’t see the message this time, he never will.