The De Luca mansion had never truly slept.
But tonight, it was wide awake.
Lights burned across the massive estate as guards moved quickly through the halls. Phones rang. Doors opened and closed. Low voices filled the air.
Something had happened.
Something big.
Inside the mansion's underground operations room, a tense silence filled the space.
Eight large monitors covered the wall.
At the center screen was the blurry photo of a thin boy standing in the rain, holding a bundle of firewood.
Every man in the room stared at it like it might disappear if they blinked.
Enzo De Luca sat in front of the computer, his fingers hovering above the keyboard.
"I ran the facial recognition three times," he said quietly. "Different databases each time."
"And?" Dante asked impatiently.
Enzo swallowed.
"Same result."
The room remained silent.
Eighty-seven percent.
It wasn't perfect.
But it was high enough to make everyone's heart pound.
Marco stepped closer to the screen.
The eldest brother had always been calm, the one who made decisions when the others let their emotions take over.
But even his steady composure was cracking.
"That picture…" he murmured.
The boy looked small.
Too small for fifteen.
His clothes were worn out. His shoulders were hunched. His hair hung over his face like he was trying to hide from the world.
Marco's jaw tightened.
"That doesn't look like a normal kid."
"No," Enzo said quietly.
"It doesn't."
Dante slammed his fist against the table.
"I'm going there."
Marco immediately grabbed his arm.
"Sit down."
Dante's eyes burned with fury.
"That could be him."
"It could also be someone who only looks like him," Marco replied.
"But if it's not—"
"It is."
The voice cut through the room like a blade.
Everyone turned toward the doorway.
Lorenzo De Luca stood there.
The head of the De Luca family.
The most feared man in the city.
Behind him stood Isabella De Luca.
Her hands trembled slightly.
Her eyes were fixed on the screen.
For eleven years…
She had waited.
Marco stepped aside.
"Father."
Lorenzo slowly walked toward the monitor.
Every step echoed through the room.
His cold gaze settled on the boy in the photograph.
The silence stretched.
Seconds felt like hours.
Then Lorenzo spoke.
"Zoom in."
Enzo quickly tapped the keyboard.
The image enlarged.
The boy's face became clearer.
There were dark circles under his eyes.
A faint bruise on his cheek.
His collarbone was visible through his thin shirt.
Lorenzo's expression darkened.
"Where was this taken?"
"Street camera," Enzo replied. "Industrial district. About four hours ago."
"Track it."
Enzo immediately began typing again.
Camera feeds popped up across the monitors.
The system traced the boy's movement through different streets.
Step by step.
Camera by camera.
Until the final frame appeared.
A small, rundown house at the edge of the district.
Enzo slowly leaned back.
"That's where he went."
Dante stood up again.
"This time I'm not waiting."
No one stopped him.
Because everyone in the room felt the same thing.
Hope.
And fear.
Lorenzo turned toward Marco and Dante.
"You two will go."
Marco nodded immediately.
Dante was already grabbing his coat.
"If that boy is my son…" Lorenzo continued slowly.
His voice was calm.
But it made everyone in the room shiver.
"Bring him home."
---
Across the mansion…
In a quiet bedroom…
Another boy sat on the edge of his bed.
Alessio De Luca stared at the message on his phone.
Come to the operations room. Now.
His chest felt tight.
Something was wrong.
He could feel it.
Alessio quickly stood up and left the room.
The hallway was full of guards moving quickly.
Everyone looked tense.
He hurried downstairs.
When he reached the operations room, the door was slightly open.
He pushed it gently.
Inside, the room was full of people.
His brothers.
His parents.
Everyone stood around the large screen.
Alessio stepped inside slowly.
"What's going on?"
No one answered immediately.
Then Nico turned toward him.
His eyes were red.
"Alessio…"
A strange feeling spread through Alessio's chest.
"What happened?"
Nico pointed at the screen.
Alessio followed his finger.
The moment he saw the picture…
The world stopped.
The boy in the photo looked thin.
His clothes were soaked from rain.
But his face…
Alessio felt like he was looking in a mirror.
His knees almost gave out.
"That's…"
His voice barely came out.
"That's…"
Isabella stepped forward.
Tears were already streaming down her face.
"That's your brother."
Alessio's heart slammed against his ribs.
Adrian.
The name exploded inside his mind like lightning.
Memories flooded back instantly.
Running through the mansion hallways.
Laughing.
Playing games.
Two identical boys racing each other down the stairs.
"Adrian!"
He staggered backward.
"No…"
His voice shook.
"That can't be…"
But the more he stared at the screen…
The more obvious it became.
The same eyes.
The same face.
The same person.
Just… broken.
"What happened to him?" Alessio whispered.
No one answered.
Because no one knew yet.
But they were about to find out.
---
Rain poured heavily over the city.
A black car moved silently through the dark streets.
Inside the car sat Marco and Dante.
Neither of them spoke.
Dante's knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel.
Marco stared out the window.
The address Enzo had sent them glowed on his phone screen.
They were close now.
Finally, Dante spoke.
"If that's really him…"
Marco didn't let him finish.
"It is."
Dante exhaled slowly.
Then his voice turned cold.
"And if someone hurt him…"
Marco looked at the rain-covered streets ahead.
His answer was simple.
"They'll regret being born."
The car turned onto a narrow road.
The houses here looked old and neglected.
Streetlights flickered weakly.
Dante slowed the car.
"That's the place."
They stopped across the street.
The small house looked even worse in person.
Paint peeling off the walls.
Broken fence.
Dark windows.
Marco's chest tightened.
"Stay calm," he said.
Dante opened the car door.
"I'll try."
They stepped out into the rain.
Water soaked their coats immediately.
The two men walked toward the house.
Every step felt heavier.
Eleven years.
Eleven years of searching.
Marco raised his hand and knocked.
Silence.
Then footsteps approached from inside.
The door opened.
A large man stood there.
His eyes moved suspiciously between the two strangers.
"What do you want?"
Marco's gaze moved past him.
Scanning the house interior.
Dirty furniture.
Messy floor.
Then he spoke calmly.
"We're looking for someone."
The man frowned.
"You got the wrong house."
Dante took a step forward.
His voice was low.
"Move."
The man laughed.
"Or what?"
The next second…
Dante grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall.
The door burst open.
"What the—?!" the man shouted.
Marco stepped inside calmly.
"We'll only ask once."
His eyes turned cold.
"Where is the boy?"
Footsteps suddenly echoed down the hallway.
Light and hesitant.
Marco turned.
At the end of the dark hallway…
A thin figure stood frozen.
A boy.
Barefoot.
Wearing an oversized shirt.
His hair hung over his eyes.
But even in the dim light…
Marco felt his heart stop.
Because the boy's face…
Looked exactly like the photo.
Exactly like Alessio.
Exactly like the child they had lost eleven years ago.
The boy looked terrified.
His voice came out small.
"Who… are you?"
Dante slowly turned toward him.
For the first time in years…
His voice softened.
"…Adrian."
The boy flinched.
"I think you have the wrong person," he whispered.
Marco felt something break inside his chest.
Because the way the boy said it…
Sounded like he truly believed it.
Marco took a slow step forward.
Rainwater dripped from his coat.
"Your name," he said gently.
"Is Adrian De Luca."
The boy's eyes widened.
And somewhere deep inside his mind…
A forgotten name…
Began to echo again.