Annabelle sat in the drawing room, sunlight pouring in through the tall windows.

The warm golden hues of the light couldn’t penetrate the chill that had settled in her chest.

She sipped her tea absentmindedly, her thoughts a whirl of chaos.

She hadn’t seen Dante in days, and the weight of his absence pressed down on her more than she cared to admit.

Antonia’s arrival broke the silence.

She entered with her usual poised elegance, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. Today, she was dressed in a tailored navy pantsuit that accentuated her slim frame, her dark hair swept into an immaculate bun.

The hint of a smirk...