That night, Nathan found himself alone in his chambers—a strange and unfamiliar solitude. The silken sheets felt colder than usual, the silence more suffocating. For weeks now, his nights had been filled with the warmth and laughter of Fulvia, the woman who had become both his lover and his favorite indulgence in the last days. Her presence had been intoxicating—her breath on his neck, her mischievous smile beneath candlelight, her voice a lullaby to his sin.
And yet, she hadn't come.
Perhaps she understood. Fulvia was perceptive, more than she let on. She could read the tension in his eyes, when he said they should be more careful. She guessed Nathan was planning something/
Yes... she understood. That's why she stayed away.
A shame, truly. She was a wonderful woman.
But tonight mattered more.
Tonight was the night Marcus Antoinus was to die.
