A waitress soon approached, her smile bright and practiced. "Good afternoon, miss. What would you like to order?" she asked, offering a menu with polite precision.
Olivia flipped open the menu and didn't waste time. "Two steaks and two lattes. That will be all," she said with a polite smile.
"Alright, miss," the waitress replied before walking away.
Olivia leaned back, her eyes drifting toward the entrance. She craned her neck, searching for the familiar face. Just then, the diner door swung open, and in walked the man she had been waiting for—reporter Joe.
She lifted her hand in a subtle wave, signaling him over. Joe noticed at once, his expression unreadable as he made his way across the room and slid into the seat across from her.
Olivia smiled warmly. "Reporter Joe, thank you for coming. I really appreciate it."
Joe, a man in his thirties with piercing brown eyes and a face carved in strict lines, gave her a cool glance. His voice was low and steady, carrying a hint of detachment. "I'm only repaying a favor. After this, we're done."
"Even still, thanks. Did you bring it?" Olivia asked quickly, leaning forward.
Joe didn't bother with more words. He unzipped his bag, pulled out two thick files, and slid them across the table. Olivia grabbed them with eager hands, her heart drumming in her chest as she opened the first one.
Just then, the waitress returned, setting down her order—two steaming cups of latte and two plates of perfectly cooked steak. With a polite nod, she left them to their business.
Joe took a sip of his coffee first, then cut into the steak with the ease of someone unfazed by secrets that could shatter lives. "That's everything I could dig up on Lorenzo Rocco," he said flatly. "He's one hell of a man."
"The news in that file? It's everything the public in New York and Italy already knows," Reporter Joe said coolly, piercing another piece of steak with his fork before lifting it to his mouth.
Olivia lifted her head from the file, her brows knitting together. "What do you mean by that?"
Joe leaned back, his brown eyes narrowing. "I mean, there's nothing solid on his childhood. The only detail ever shared—by him and his family—is that he was the only son born to Riccardo Ricci, the head of the Ricci family, and his first wife. She died just three years into their marriage.
After that, Lorenzo was sent abroad when he was eight. Beyond that?" Joe shrugged. "It's a blank page."
Olivia tightened her grip on the file, listening to every word as he continued.
"Here's where it gets interesting. Four years ago, Lorenzo suddenly came back from overseas. Within a year, he was helping his father run the company. In just three years, he pushed it into the top five in Italy. And his own company?" Joe tapped the table for emphasis, his voice carrying a sharp edge. "Number one. That kind of rise isn't natural. If that isn't strange, tell me what is." He took a slow sip of his coffee, letting the weight of his words sink in.
Olivia's mind buzzed. Four years ago… that's when he appeared. But Vincent only died three years ago. If Lorenzo isn't Vincent, then how are they connected?
She glanced around the diner, lowering her voice into a whisper. "Did you find any link at all between Lorenzo and Vincent?"
Reporter Joe set down his fork with a sharp clink against the plate, his eyes narrowing at Olivia. "Wait. Don't tell me you're trying to connect Lorenzo to Vincent. That's impossible. Vincent's been dead for three years."
Olivia's breath hitched. "And what if he isn't?" Her voice cracked as she fumbled in her bag and pulled out her phone, extending it toward him with a trembling hand. "Look at this. I got a call at three this morning—from Vincent. Don't tell me I imagined it. I can never forget his voice."
Joe froze, staring at the screen before lifting his gaze to her, his expression dark and unreadable. "Olivia… do you even hear yourself? Vincent jumped off a cliff. His body vanished into the sea. No one could've survived that."
His tone was cold, but doubt flickered in his eyes. "And if he really were alive, don't you think he would have shown himself by now? Don't you think he would have already come for you—after all, you reported him to the police?"
Her chest tightened. "So you think I'm lying?" she whispered, her eyes burning. "Joe, we've known each other for years. We may not be friends, but we're colleagues. Do you honestly think I'd make this up? Look at me. Do I look like I'm joking?"
For a moment, Joe just looked at her—at the exhaustion etched into her face, the fear clouding her eyes. His shoulders eased slightly, but his voice stayed firm. "Fine. If you're that certain, then prove it. Next time he calls, record it.
Bring me the evidence, Olivia. Until then…" He leaned back, crossing his arms. "I can't believe you."
Olivia forced a weak smile as she gathered the files. "All right, then. Just wait—I'll prove I'm not lying. Thank you for the file, though."
Joe slung his bag over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. "All right, then—I'll be waiting for you to prove it. As for the files, no need to be grateful. Consider us even. I've got another story to chase." With that, he strode out of the diner, leaving her with more questions than answers.
Not long after, Olivia left as well, heading back to the office. By the time she finished her work in the office, night had already settled over the city. The building was nearly empty. As she stepped out of the office and headed toward the parking lot, her phone rang.
Seeing William's name, her lips curved into a slight smile as she answered. "Hello, William?" Her voice softened at the sound of her boyfriend's voice. "Are you done with work? I'll be late, I'm just leaving the office now. What about you?" Olivia said over the phone.
"I just finished too. I'll be home soon—" She reached her car, fumbling for her keys. But before she could open the door, the entire parking lot went dark.
A startled cry escaped her lips.
"Olivia?!" William's alarmed voice shot through the line. "What happened? Are you alright?"
Her heart raced as she forced a shaky laugh. "It's nothing—the lights in the parking lot just went out. I overreacted, that's all."
She tried to sound calm, but her hands trembled. Ever since Vincent's call at three in the morning, her nerves had been stretched thin. It felt as if someone was watching her.
"I'll see you at home," she murmured quickly before ending the call.
Olivia hovered her thumb over the flashlight icon, ready to switch it on—but then froze. The air shifted, heavy and oppressive. She wasn't alone.
A cold pressure pressed against the back of her head. The unmistakable barrel of a gun.
Her body locked in place, her breath caught in her throat.Then came the voice. Low, cold, and dripping with menace.
"Long time no see, Olivia."
Her blood ran cold. She knew that voice. Even after three years, she could never forget it.
Her lips trembled as she whispered, "Vincent…"
A dark chuckle brushed against her ear, his breath hot and mocking. "So, you haven't forgotten me after all."