The morning light barely pierced the heavy curtains of the villa, yet Dante was already awake, body coiled with tension and a restless mind refusing respite. His gaze traveled across the room to Isabella, her hair spilling over the pillow like a dark waterfall, her chest rising and falling with the rhythm of sleep. For a moment, he allowed himself to drink in the sight of her—vulnerable, beautiful, unguarded. But even as admiration filled him, the weight of the world pressed down. There were enemies still in the shadows, secrets yet to be uncovered, and a betrayal that had not yet revealed its full sting.

He rose silently, careful not...