~ELENA~

No one breathes.

Not the guards frozen mid-step.

Not Vincenzo, whose hand lifts like he wants to pull me back and doesn’t dare.

Not even Nico or Riccardo, whose faces have gone rigid with pure, unfiltered alarm.

Lorenzo stares at me.

For a heartbeat…two…three.

Then he laughs.

It’s low. Soft. Almost amused.

A laugh that crawls under my skin.

“Killed your mother?” he repeats, tilting his head slightly. “Elena, you’re exhausted. Traumatized. You’ve just been through an attack. Your mind is reaching for something to blame.”

“My mind is clear,” I say. My voice shakes now, but I don’t stop. “Clearer than it’s ever been.”

I clutch the diary...