The sea whispered softly against the rocks, a rhythmic lullaby that wrapped itself around the sleepy town of Amalfi. Morning sunlight spilled through the lace curtains, tracing golden patterns over Isabella’s bare shoulder as she lay still, eyes closed, pretending to sleep. The air smelled faintly of salt, espresso, and the jasmine that grew wild along the villa walls.

For the first time in what felt like years, there was quiet.

Dante stood on the terrace, shirtless, coffee cup in hand, watching the horizon burn gold. His hair was longer now, rougher, kissed by the wind. The scars that marked his body were fading into the same bronze tone as...