Secret identity
AMBROSE POV
When I finally went back home, I felt defeated.
A part of me still had high hopes of winning Ben over, but once again she had rejected me and chose to push me away.
This feeling was eating me up from the inside, and the pain within was ready to consume me, and all I had to do was just accept it.
The hatred in Nolan’s eyes said it all.
It was clear that we had lost that bond forever.
I still wanted to make things right.
I brought the glass of whiskey to my lips as the pale amber liquid burned my throat.
Drinking myself into oblivion tended to numb the pain.
I lowered my gaze.
“I failed you, Katherine…you had only given me one task before leaving this world, and that was to take care of our son, Nolan, but I failed, and instead, I am the one responsible for his misery.”
A lone tear rolled down my cheek.
“Katherine…maybe things would be better off if I was the one who died that night. You and Nolan would have been happy without me.”
I felt someone place their hand on my shoulder, and that touch felt like home.
Her scent lingered in the air.
I turned around and found her watching me.
Her blonde hair perfectly curled and her face full of life.
I probably drank too much; now I was seeing things.
“Ambrose, you need to stop hurting yourself…Nolan might be hurt, but he still needs his father in his life. Don’t rob him of that, my love.”
I sighed sadly.
“Nolan hates me…he wants nothing to do with me because I took away the only woman he learned to love.”
I reached out to touch her hand, fearing that she would disappear in an instant.
Her skin felt warm.
“That woman never loved him…her heart belonged to someone else.”
Our eyes locked in a frenzy.
“She loves you…and I know that you feel the same way about her,” she whispered softly.
She placed her hand on top of mine.
“I’m happy that you found love again…I never wanted you to grow old alone. Even in my absence, I wanted you to continue living your best life filled with love and happiness.”
I shook my head in disbelief.
Katherine was dead, and this was just an illusion.
I gulped down my drink in one go and shut my eyes.
I was breathing heavily.
I was once again lost in my thoughts and snapped out of my trance when I heard my phone ringing, and for a moment, it felt like I had blacked out.
My eyes jerked open, and I was still in the room holding an empty glass.
The sadness in my heart only intensified.
Katherine was now a mere fantasy in my mind, but her words had comforted me.
I fished my phone out of my pocket and checked the caller ID.
It was Matteo.
I answered the call and placed the phone to my ear.
“I saw her…” I mumbled quietly.
He remained silent from the other end of the line.
“Katherine?” he finally asked.
I nodded quietly, chuckling.
“It felt so real this time…and I felt like she had come back to me, but instead, she said that she was happy that I found love again.”
I frowned deeply.
“She was giving me her blessing.”
Matteo didn’t say much.
“Maybe you need a break from this city and everyone, Ambrose…take some time for yourself and come to Italy. I could use some help around the vineyard.”
I sighed deeply.
“I’ll be there tomorrow morning; maybe this is just what I need to feel sane again.”
After making a few arrangements, I informed my pilot to get my private jet ready.
“Matteo?”
This was the best decision, and it was the only way I could protect Ben from her grandfather’s wrath.
“Tell my lawyer not to press any charges against the Rebels; just let them keep the investment.”
Matteo was silent for a few seconds.
“What is it?”
I could sense the tension.
There was something that he wasn’t telling me.
“Nolan proceeded to sue them…and if they don’t pay back every cent they owe, the New Way Group will automatically belong to him.”
I couldn’t believe my ears.
He actually sued them?
“I’m sorry, Ambrose, but there’s nothing I can do to save them.”
I was only worried about Ben because I knew that her greedy grandfather was probably giving her a hard time.
I bid Matteo goodbye and hung up.
I had an early flight tomorrow.
The next morning, my private jet had landed in Italy, and Matteo took the liberty of coming to pick me up at the airport.
I gave him a hug as we smiled at each other.
He pulled back, smiling at me.
He hadn’t changed at all.
“E’ bello vederti, capo. Questo posto è solitario da quando ti sei trasferito negli Stati Uniti.”
(It’s good to see you, boss; this place has been lonely since you moved to the United States.)
I smirked at him as we made our way toward the parked Mercedes.
“E’ bello sostenere mio fratello.”
(It feels good to be back, brother.)
I looked around the city, and old memories began to resurface.
This is where I met Katherine, and it was love at first sight.
She came to Italy as a tourist and never left because she became my wife.
“I have some news about the vineyard fire. It looks like we finally have a suspect.”
I was thrilled.
It’s been ages since I got into some action, and with all the stress I’ve been through, this would be rewarding for me.
“We managed to recover more footage, and I already have the suspect in custody, waiting for your arrival.”
I smiled at him.
“Is this my welcome gift?”
He shrugged carelessly.
“The mafia misses you, capo, and no man will ever take your place.”
I sighed deeply.
“I left the mafia to keep Katherine and Nolan out of the bloodshed that runs deep in the family. I just wanted them to have a normal life.”
But I couldn’t even run away from that because mafia blood has always run in the family.
We soon arrived at my father’s old mansion.
I never had the best memories here.
The brutal training my father put me through at a young age drifted us apart, and I hated him.
I’m glad he’s dead.
I took the liberty of watching the security footage and I felt pissed off.
As Matteo helped me with my luggage, I went to my room and took off my jacket, rolling my shirt to my elbows as I went down to the basement.
The air in the basement was thick with mildew and quiet menace. Bare concrete walls sweated moisture, and a single bulb flickered overhead, casting sharp shadows over the room like silent watchers.
I descended the stairs slowly, each step deliberate, my polished shoes clicking against the concrete.
I wore black, as always. I never liked to get blood on my cuffs.
The man tied to the chair in the center of the room had already started to shiver. He was young—maybe mid-twenties—with a busted lip and a swelling eye.
The security footage had been damning.
He’d crept into my prized vineyard at 2:43 a.m. with a can of gasoline and a lighter. If the night patrol hadn’t been alert, everything would’ve gone up in smoke.
I circled the chair slowly, eyes fixed on the man like a predator studying prey. He said nothing at first. The silence stretched, tightening the air like a noose.
Then, I reached for a small metal tray on a nearby table—laid out like surgical tools in a hospital. Pliers. A hammer. A blowtorch. A straight razor. Each piece gleamed under the light, hungry.
“You know what I hate more than traitors?” I asked softly, my voice smooth, almost gentle.
“Cowards. Men who do someone else’s dirty work without asking why.”
I stopped behind the suspect and leaned in close.
“Now… you’re going to tell me who sent you. Or I’ll peel you apart until I find the truth inside your bones.”
Without waiting for a reply, I grabbed the man’s hand and splayed his fingers out on the armrest. I picked up the pliers.
“Please—” the man whimpered, but the first scream tore through the room as I crushed the nail of his index finger and yanked it clean off.
Blood ran down his hand in rivulets.
“That’s one,” I murmured, calm as a surgeon.
“You’ve got nine more. And after that? I’ll get creative.”
I moved methodically—removing a second nail, then pressing the red-hot metal of the blowtorch near the man’s cheek, just enough to blister, not burn through. The scent of scorched flesh filled the air, mingling with the man’s cries.
Still, no answer.
My knuckles cracked as I gripped the hammer. With a precise blow, I shattered the man’s kneecap. The scream that followed was hoarse, broken.
“You’ve got thirty seconds before I take out your eye,” I said, crouching in front of him.
“You came to my land. You set fire to my legacy. And you think silence will save you?”
The man sobbed, trembling uncontrollably now.
“I-It was Zane!” he finally blurted, eyes rolling back.
“Zane Gray! He paid me—he said if I torched the vineyard, you’d get the message!”
I rose slowly, letting the hammer drop with a clang to the floor.
“See?” I said smoothly, turning to the door. “That wasn’t so hard.”
I paused at the threshold, looking back over his shoulder.
“Patch him up,” I muttered looking at Matteo.
“Then send him back to Zane. In pieces.”