Chapter 1


    "It''s time to get up, Don," Kloe, my best friend and roommate, woke me up that morning, just like she


    had done for the past three years. We were as close as sisters, withplementary personalities - I


    was the calm one, while she had a fierce presence.


    In our twenties and our final year of college, we were determined to seed and earn the hard-earned


    diplomas we had been working towards.


    "Yeah, I n on sleeping in today because there''s no way..." I yawned.


    "No, Donnica, we can''t afford to bete for ss!" she eximed, pulling the covers off me.


    Donnica Smith, that''s me, a dedicated student pursuing a degree in telmunications and


    journalism, with a future full of promise.


    * * *


    Kloe and I arrived at the amphitheater bright and early that morning.


    The professor, always punctual, began the ss smoothly. Toward the end, he assigned us our usual


    projects.


    "Alright, ss, today''s task is to venture beyond the campus grounds," he exined. "I want you to


    interview individuals who are unexpected or influential. Surprise me. Exceed my expectations."


    The students squirmed with excitement.


    "Quiet!"


    Silence fell.


    "As I was saying, I want you to explore ces outside of yourfort zone. Challenge yourselves.


    Choose your muses and persuade them to answer a few questions for your final paper. Maybe the


    governor? Or a mayor? A tycoon? A billionaire? Go out there and achieve the impossible. Can you do


    it?"


    "Yes!" the ss responded in unison.


    "Remember, this final assignment will determine whether or not you earn that coveted diploma.


    Consider it a vital part of your thesis. Impress me."


    The students brimmed with motivation.


    "ss dismissed."


    The professor left the room, leaving behind a buzz of excitement as students eagerly discussed the


    plethora of possibilities for this assignment.


    "So, Klo," I turned to Kloe with a smile, "what''s your n?"


    "Girl, my father is a tycoon. He knows influential people. Don''t worry, I''ll simply ask him to connect me


    with one of his acquaintances from the country club," she replied, effortlessly packing her bag. "And


    what about you?"


    "I have something in mind," I responded, grinning mischievously.


    "Donnica, please don''t do anything reckless."


    "You''ve always been the voice of reason. You know I never hold back. Remember my uncle, the chief


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    manager of the central prison?"


    Kloe paused, her eyes widening.


    "No."


    "Yes."


    "Donnica, no. Why on earth?"


    "The infamous Antonio Caruso was transferred to his prisonst week. Yes, the convicted terrorist and


    mafioso who spread fear throughout the entire country and who was recently arrested. Can you


    imagine the honors I''ll receive if I manage to convince my uncle to let me interview him? All it takes is


    five minutes."


    Kloe stared at me, disbelief etched on her face.


    "That''s dangerous and foolish, Donnica."


    "Well, you''ve always been the wiser one, so it only makes sense, doesn''t it?" I chuckled, rising from my


    seat. "Let''s go."


    "I see you''ve already made up your mind. I hope you have a change of heart halfway through, because


    uh-uh."


    Iughed, and together we left the amphitheater, heading towards our next ss.


    "Don''t worry. I''ll do some research before stepping into the lion''s den."


    ***


    True to my word,ter that day, after school, I delved into some research. Seated in thefort of my


    bedroom, I scoured the inte in search of a picture of Antonio Caruso. To my surprise, there was no


    trace of him online.


    "No results? Absolutely nothing? Not even a photograph or sketch?"


    It made no sense that his appearance was a mystery to the public. Furthermore, aside from his criminal


    activities, his personal life remained shrouded in secrecy. Who was this man, and why was the


    government concealing his identity despite his acts of terrorism?


    I perused a few online forums discussing him and other criminals, stumbling uponments that


    resembled unsettling rumors.


    "I''ve heard he''s around fifty years old.”


    "He''s a deranged individual who has been in and out of rehab countless times.”


    "He''s Italian, without a doubt.”


    "He holds racist beliefs.”


    "He''ll be turning fifty this year.”


    "Approach him with a smile, and your death will follow shortly.”


    "He has connections to the Italian Mafia.”


    "He''s a terrorist.”


    Some of these statements were undeniably true, while others seemed absurd. Yet, a few held a hint of


    possibility.


    ‘Hmm, so he''s around fifty. At least, that''s what it appears to be.’


    "I''ll uncover the truth myself."


    Closing myptop, I joined Kloe in the living room.


    ***


    The following day, Kloe and I decided to venture out and give our assignment our best effort.


    I dressed in jeans, ts, a T-shirt, and a jacket.


    I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and gathered my notebook, pen, recorder, and bag. I was fully


    prepared and eager to begin.


    "Good luck, Donnie," Kloe said while adjusting her hair.


    "Thanks. I''ll need it. Off to Central prison, I go."


    "Here Ie, Keh & Co. Let''s tackle this challenge once and for all."