Omniscient Pov:

The old house at the edge of town was falling apart, its walls stained with years of neglect and its windows covered by threadbare curtains that let in little light. Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of mildew, cigarettes, and despair. This was where Serafina Romano though she didn't know her real name had spent the last ten years of her life.

To the world, she was Sophia "Sophie" Miller, the foster child of Gary and Linda Miller. To the Millers, she was a burden, a punching bag for their frustrations and a scapegoat for everything wrong in their miserable lives.

Fifteen-year-old Sophie sat on the cold, wooden floor of her small, cluttered bedroom. Her back pressed against the peeling wallpaper, she tried to stay still, each breath shallow to keep from aggravating the bruises blooming across her ribs. Her left cheek was swollen, the faint outline of Gary's hand still visible from last night's outburst.

The room was dim, lit only by a flickering lamp on the rickety bedside table. Her bed was little more than a stained mattress on the floor, with a threadbare blanket she used to shield herself from the cold. The walls were bare except for a single taped-up photo of a lighthouse, a picture she'd torn from an old magazine. She stared at it often, imagining herself as the lightkeeper, far away from this place.

From downstairs came the sound of shouts—Gary's gravelly voice rising in anger, followed by the sharp clatter of something breaking. Sophie's heart raced as she pulled her knees to her chest, instinctively shrinking into herself. The bruises from last night weren't even healed, and she knew it was only a matter of time before his temper turned on her again.

"Where's that useless girl?" Gary's voice thundered, the floorboards creaking under his heavy steps.

Linda's voice answered, sharp and mocking. "Probably hiding like the little rat she is. Go deal with her. She's your problem, not mine."

Sophie scrambled to her feet, her breath hitching. She knew what was coming. She backed away from the door, her eyes darting around the room. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

The door burst open, slamming against the wall. Gary stood in the doorway, his bulk filling the frame, his bloodshot eyes glaring down at her.

"You think you can just sit up here all day, huh? Doing nothing while we work to keep this roof over your head?" he spat, his voice dripping with contempt.

"I—I'm sorry," Sophie stammered, her voice trembling.

"Sorry doesn't pay the bills," he growled, stepping into the room.

Sophie braced herself as his hand shot out, grabbing her arm and yanking her forward. Pain shot through her shoulder as he shoved her toward the wall. Her head smacked against the peeling plaster, stars bursting in her vision.

"You're lucky we even let you stay here," Gary snarled, his breath hot against her face. "You'd be on the streets if it weren't for us."

When he finally stormed out of the room, muttering curses under his breath, Sophie sank to the floor, tears streaming silently down her face. She clutched her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth as she tried to steady her breathing.

Somewhere deep inside, a voice whispered to her—a faint, desperate hope. This isn't where you belong. Someone is out there looking for you. Someone who cares.

She wiped her tears away, but the voice lingered, louder this time. For years, she had buried that tiny glimmer of hope beneath the weight of fear and pain. Tonight, it flickered again, refusing to be extinguished.





Far away in Chicago,



Alessandro Romano leaned over his desk, staring at a report that had just landed in his hands. It was a faint lead—just a description of a girl in a rundown Michigan town—but something about it clawed at him.

"Luca," he barked, his eldest son stepping into the room. "Get Dante and Enzo. I think we've found her."

The war to bring Serafina home was about to begin. And for the Romano family, there would be no turning back.