"Father,” Luca called, knocking on his father's bedroom door.

He pushed the door open.

“Father?”

The room was empty. He turned with a swirl as he headed down the stairs, his slippers slapping the stone steps as he descended hurriedly.

“Please be real. Please,” he muttered as he flew down the flight of stairs.

The door to the dining area was slightly ajar. He peeked in through the half-opened door.

Ferguson was seated, chatting lively as he ate breakfast with his Luna. ...