SANCHEZ’S POV

The flowers shook in my hands. Maybe from the wind, maybe from me as I stared at the name carved into the marble, trying to make sense of how quickly a man can vanish from the world.

Across the grave, the gravedigger paused with his shovel. His eyes, an unsettling, almost electric blue, caught mine and held them. Something in that look made me tense, a flicker of warmth in a day that should have been cold.

I tore my gaze away and found Emilia watching the ceremony from behind her dark glasses. Three years away, yet here she was, calm and polished, as if she had come...