The wind along the riverbank carried a cold bite that didn't belong to the early morning.
It threaded through Alessia's hair, lifting the torn veil piece in her trembling hand as if the river itself was trying to reclaim it.
Luca stood close behind her—so close she could feel the tension rolling off him in waves.
His fingers twitched once, as though resisting the urge to snatch the torn veil and burn it out of existence.
Daisy and Romeo exchanged a look that was not shock—no. It was recognition. A quiet, heavy knowing.
And that terrified Alessia more than the dream ever did.
She swallowed, staring at the golden fabric. "This shouldn't be here. It was on me last night, I didn't leave the inn."
Luca's jaw tightened. "Someone could've dropped it....."
"No," Daisy cut in gently but firmly. "It's not dropped,Look."
She stepped closer to the tree roots.
The fabric wasn't simply lying on the ground—it was caught, almost threaded between the roots.
