The villa felt like a fortress under siege. Every corner was shadowed, every whisper a potential threat. Elena moved through the halls like a queen haunted — the weight of her crown heavier with each passing hour.

Vittorio’s campaign was relentless. His operatives infiltrated deeper, strikes grew more brutal, and the lines between ally and enemy blurred into a dangerous gray.

Elena stood on the balcony overlooking the estate, the cool night air doing little to ease the fire burning within her. Behind her, Enzo approached silently, his presence a steady anchor amid the chaos.

“We can’t keep this up forever,” he said softly.

“We don’t have to,” she replied,...