Beating a quick rhythm, I rush into my house, searching for Andy. I come to an abrupt stop when I find her in the living room with Andrea, Amadeo, and a woman I've never seen before. Frowning, confused by the situation, I glance at Andy, who quickly explains.

"May, this is Ginevra, my colleague from the flight."

Still caught in my anxiety, I stare at Ginevra, silently urging her to get to the point.

"Well, to put it bluntly, she tried to kill Franco Abiani," Andy blurts out.

Her words are like a match igniting my already burning nerves. I shift my gaze to Ginevra and demand they explain everything in detail so I can assess the damage. Andy speaks up.

"Everything was going as planned, everyone playing their roles without raising suspicion. That is, until Miss Kamikaze here decided to pull out a gun. Thankfully, I saw it before anyone else did and managed to stop her before it was too late. I barely brought her back to her senses, but the problem is, Abiani noticed something. I came up with some lame excuse to explain our actions. I'm not sure if he's gullible enough to believe it, but I'm afraid he might start digging into us—or at least, he'll be more suspicious than we wanted him to be," Andy summarizes tensely.

"Ginevra, may I ask what you have against Abiani ?" I ask, calm but sharp.

"How does that concern you ?" she snaps defensively.

I raise an eyebrow at her audacity.

 "It concerns me when it's my target and you're putting my plan in jeopardy. Moreover, confiding in me will earn you my trust—and a powerful ally in your quest for vengeance. More than anyone, I understand what it's like to live in that mindset, to want nothing more than to right the injustices you've faced. I am the best person to understand and help you carry out your plan. If you want to go it alone, that's fine—I respect that. But you'll gain a new enemy, and believe me, without wanting to toot my own horn, I'm someone you really don't want to face."

"I'm ready for the challenge," she retorts, defiant.

The atmosphere thickens as silence fills the room. After a few seconds, Ginevra relaxes and eases the tension that had settled in.

"I don't want to fight you, May. As tempting as the challenge is, I'd rather stand with your allies. If you've managed to infiltrate Abiani without getting caught, you're far more formidable than I could ever be. And something tells me the real Phoenix stands before me. I likely have much to learn from you and much to gain by having you by my side. So, I'll give you what your curiosity demands and tell you more about myself—but only if you promise me one thing."

"What is it ?"

"I want Franco Abiani to die by my hands. You can torture him or whatever, but I want to deliver the final blow. I want to feel his life slip away beneath my fists. I want to be the reaper that sends him to the other side."

"I have no problem with that," I reply without hesitation, eager for her to continue.

Silence reigns once again. Ginevra's face darkens suddenly, haunted by ghosts from her past. Overwhelmed by the emotions these shadows stir, she sits on the couch, and everyone else follows, except me—I stay standing, watching her carefully.

After a brief moment, Ginevra clears her throat, chasing away the emotion that chokes her, and begins her story in a quiet voice.

"The reason I want to take his life is to rob him of the only thing he cares about. Not his family—he's far too selfish to truly care about anyone but himself. His own life is all that matters. Just as he stole the light from my life, I want to extinguish his. I want him to feel empty, powerless, stripped of everything. I want to see that flicker of despair flash in his eyes—the same flicker I felt when he took away the most precious thing in my life: my mother."

Her voice trembles slightly at the mention of her mother, though she quickly stifles it.

 "I was seven years old when I first heard the name Franco Abiani, not knowing he would be the source of all my torment. I have to admit, I didn't always hate him. It might be hard to believe, but at first, he was kind to us. He even improved our quality of life for a time. As far back as I can remember, it was always just my mother and me. To keep a roof over our heads and food on the table, my mother worked tirelessly, bouncing from one odd job to another. She didn't care about luxury—she just wanted us to have a proper apartment and not live in a single-room space that served as both kitchen and bedroom. She wanted us to have more than just soup every day, like real meat. None of that mattered to me, though—my mother was everything to me, and all I really wanted was to spend more time with her. But the reality of a child is far different from the reality of an adult, and as I grew older, I understood why my mother worked so hard."

Ginevra's lips curve into a soft smile as she recalls a fond memory, and a fleeting spark of happiness lights up her eyes.

 "One day, she came home from work earlier than usual. I remember it like it was yesterday—her beautiful smile lit up our gloomy little home. She was proud to tell me she'd found a new job that paid much better and would guarantee us a brighter future. We gathered our few belongings and left to meet a luxurious car waiting for us outside."

The contrast was staggering—a sleek, black luxury sedan parked in front of a dilapidated shack. It was almost laughable. We were driven to a grand manor, and as we stepped out of the car, I felt ashamed of the jealousy bubbling up inside me—this was everything my mother had dreamed of, and the complete opposite of what we had. I felt small, diminished, even though I was only seven years old—far too young to feel such emotions. But when I looked over at my mother, the knot of anger in my chest vanished. Her eyes were sparkling with admiration and joy, like her dream was unfolding before her eyes. Seeing her like that soothed me instantly because she was my entire world. If she was happy, I was happy too.

"It was at that manor that I first heard the name Franco Abiani. He was an imposing man, not because of his height, but because of his presence. He was intimidating. For months, everything went smoothly. To be honest, I didn't understand my mother's new job. Since I was no longer going to school because the Abianis insisted on home tutoring, like for their own children, I spent every day with her, never seeing her do any work that seemed like a job. One day, she had to leave for what she called a routine medical check-up, assuring me it was nothing serious. She came back in high spirits, smiling as always, and everything returned to normal. Until one night, I was awakened by muffled noises and cries. I got up, moving as quietly as I could, to see what was happening. When I reached the ground floor, I saw my mother lying face down in a pool of blood, a man standing over her. Overcome with emotion, I started crying and shouting, 'Mom!' She turned her head toward me and, with a weak voice, begged me to run. The man turned to face me, and instinct took over. I ran as fast as I could, barefoot and in my nightgown, through fields, forests, and roads. That's when my life as a fugitive began. I became paranoid, constantly on the run, never staying in one place for more than a night until I found a safe haven to start over with a false identity and a new appearance, all while feeding my dark desire for revenge. I'll spare you the details of my difficult, miserable life. But when I was old enough to investigate my mother's death, I began risking my life to uncover the truth and craft my plan for revenge."

As her story comes to a close, we're all left speechless. The weight of what we've just learned settles heavily on the room. Unsure of what to say or how to ease her pain, I turn to the one thing I know: vengeance.

"You're right—we have to stop him," I say as I step into the living room.

I sit in front of the coffee table so everyone can see me.

 "I don't know how yet, but we'll get our revenge," I assure her, locking eyes with Ginevra.

Without wasting any more time, we dive into planning. Ideas are flying when we're interrupted by the doorbell. Not expecting anyone, I frown and glance around the room. Everyone shrugs, just as clueless as I am. My stomach tightens with apprehension as I head to the door, relieved when I don't find one of Abiani's men—or worse, Abiani himself—on the other side.

 "Enoro ? What are you doing here, and how do you know where I live ?" I ask, trying to ignore my racing heart.

He pulls my phone from his pocket and hands it to me. That's when I realize my oversight.

"That's why I'm here. Your address is on the contract we signed," he explains in a serious tone, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Thank you. You didn't need to go through the trouble of coming here—I would have picked it up myself once I realized it was missing," I reply, taking my phone.

"Who doesn't realize they've left their phone behind these days ?" he asks, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

 "In time, you'll find I'm full of surprises," I smile back.

"Since I'm here, I'd like to talk about what I was trying to say earlier..."

 "May ! We're waiting for you back there, what's taking so long ?" Amadeo interrupts as he steps up beside me.

I don't have time to answer before Enoro speaks.

"Nothing, I was just leaving," he snaps, his tone a sharp contrast to the jovial one from before.

Tense in Amadeo's presence, I think I catch a flash of jealousy in Enoro's eyes, as quick and fierce as lightning splitting the sky.

"Miss Torre, I'll see you at the studio," he says before casting one last glance our way and heading back to his car.

I watch him walk away, swallowing my disappointment as I close the door. Quickly brushing off my emotions, I return to the neutral demeanor my partners in crime expect from me.