Three days. No meetings. No press releases. No agenda.

Just them.

The chalet was tucked into the folds of a quiet mountain range two hours outside Zurich. The roads were winding, the air thinner, and the world somehow quieter up there — like even the sky agreed to whisper. A narrow trail led from the road to the villa’s wooden front porch. Beyond it: pine trees dusted with morning frost, and peaks that cut across the horizon like guards of silence.

Sophie stood by the window, sleeves of her cable-knit sweater pulled down over her hands, staring out as the fog curled between trees. Behind her, Alexander dropped their duffel...