The morning broke soft and silver over the Romano estate, but the peace it promised never reached Isabella’s heart. She stood by the balcony of the guest room, a place that once belonged to Lucia, and felt the faint chill of dawn press against her skin. The marble beneath her bare feet was cold, grounding her in a world that suddenly felt fragile again.

Last night’s revelations—Lucia’s true identity, the bloody past of the Romano empire, and the fractures in Dante’s loyalty—had shattered the illusion of safety she and Dante had fought so hard to build. Every whisper of the wind seemed to carry a memory, and every shadow looked...