Chapter1

I designed the weapon that would let him rule the underworld.

Then, on our anniversary, I overheard him planning my murder.

For seven years, I was Vincent Costa's cherished canary, his lover, his secret genius.

He saved me, shaped me, loved me. I gave him my heart and my mind, crafting the "Ghost Protocol" for his empire.

Until the night our delicate cage shattered. I heard the cold truth: my love was a script, my life a debt to be collected.

Now, the weaponmaster becomes the vengeance.

The game he started ends when I say it does.

Watch me burn his world down.

……

I'm the canary Vincent Costa has kept for seven years.

But my true identity is the secret weapons designer for the Costa family.

I designed the 'Ghost Protocol' for him—the key to ruling the black market.

Until that night, our seventh anniversary dinner, when I tapped into the hidden line in his study.

I heard him with my own ears, planning to kill me once I finished the testing.

I spent the entire afternoon preparing that dinner.

Roasted lamb chops, his favorite red wine, even a fresh tablecloth.

I wore the dress he'd given me last year and sat at one end of the long table, watching the candles burn down inch by inch.

He never showed up.

At nine that night, my stomach felt heavy, like it was packed with ice.

I went upstairs to see if he'd fallen asleep in his study.

The door was closed, but I could hear a faint electrical hiss from inside.

It was his top-secret communicator, normally locked in the bottom drawer, its line running directly to several of the most important safe houses.

On impulse, I pressed the hidden receiver button on the wall.

Cecilia's voice came through first, sweet and cloying, making my skin crawl.

"How much longer are you going to play house with her, Vincent? I want you to come over tonight."

My heart skipped a beat.

Vincent's voice came next—cold, calm, nothing like the gentle murmur I heard every day.

"Soon. Once the final testing for 'Ghost Protocol' is complete, she'll have no value left."

"What will you do with her?" Cecilia asked, her voice tinged with curiosity, like she was asking about the weather.

"The usual. She'll 'betray the family,' try to sell the protocol to the Marinos. I've already arranged the evidence." He paused. "Then I'll handle it myself. This was always about avenging Sophia."

Sophia.

My stepsister's name.

She died seven years ago with her parents in a mob hit.

Vincent had loved her. I knew that.

He was always looking for her shadow in me.

But I never thought my very existence was an act of revenge.

Cecilia laughed.

"Seven years. You really are patient. Every day, looking at the daughter of the man who killed your love, and you have to pretend to be devoted. Don't you find it disgusting?"

"It works, that's all that matters." Vincent's voice was devoid of emotion. "She's a genius designer. Without her, 'Ghost Protocol' would've remained a concept forever. Now it's almost done. Once she hands over the final assembly key, the game ends."

I slapped my hand over my mouth, nails digging into my palm. I had to clench my jaw to force down the scream rising in my throat.

Seven years. The night he saved me, pulling me from my parents' pool of blood, telling me not to be afraid, promising he'd protect me.

He taught me everything, gave me everything, made me believe I was loved, that I was special.

It was all rehearsed lines.

I was the stupidest actor in his revenge play, and I'd even written the most crucial prop myself.

"So you're coming back tomorrow night?" Cecilia asked.

"Of course. I need to soothe my little canary, make sure she doesn't mess up at the last moment." Vincent said. "Tell her I got held up at the port. Buy her a scarf—she likes those little trinkets."

"You're so thoughtful." Cecilia's light laugh pierced my ears like a needle.

I cut the line.

The room was terrifyingly quiet. All I could hear was my own ragged breathing and the buzzing of blood rushing to my temples.

I went back downstairs to the dining room. The candlelight still flickered over a table of cold, carefully prepared food.

I picked up my phone and opened the photo album.

It was full of pictures of us together. Him smiling, ruffling my hair. Me leaning on his shoulder. We looked like any ordinary couple.

I deleted them one by one.

Each time I pressed delete, something inside me died along with it.

Grief. Fantasy. And that twenty-six-year-old Elvira Rossi who believed in love.

When I got to the last photo, I paused.

It was from his birthday last year. I'd secretly decorated his entire study, and this was the surprised look on his face when he walked in.

I'd thought it was emotion.

Now I knew. It was surprise at my stupidity.

I threw the phone onto the couch. I looked at that table of cold food, at the empty seat at the head.

Then I walked into my workshop and locked the door.

The computer screen glowed. The holographic model of 'Ghost Protocol' rotated quietly, casting an eerie blue light.

Ten years of my life's work. The key that would put him at the pinnacle of power.

I pulled up the final test file, cursor hovering over the 'permanently delete' button.

But I didn't press it.

Destroying it would be too easy on him. He'd destroyed seven years of my life, ruined everything. He needed to pay.

A cold, clear plan took shape in my mind.

Vincent wants the 'Ghost Protocol'? Fine. I'll give him a version he'll never forget.

I turned off the screen and sat in the darkness.

Outside the window, the city blazed with lights. His empire sprawled through the night.

The game is ending, Vincent. But you don't get to decide who calls it.

I picked up another encrypted phone I never used and dialed a number I'd memorized for years but never dared to contact.

"Marino." A deep, steady male voice answered.

"Mr. Luca Marino," my voice was so calm it surprised even me, "I'm Elvira Rossi. I have a proposal you'll definitely be interested in. About 'Ghost Protocol,' and how to make your biggest rival disappear forever."