The morning light over the DeLuca estate was pale and reluctant, as if even the sun hesitated to rise over a house that had not yet recovered from the night before. The glass windows overlooking the courtyard glowed faintly, but the warmth did not reach inside. The estate felt colder now. Heavier. Like the walls themselves were bracing for whatever came next.
Aria awoke alone.
The other side of the bed was cold, untouched. Luca had not slept beside her. The sheets were perfectly smooth, without even the faintest impression of his body. It made her chest tighten. She knew what that meant. He had not slept at all. Or if he had, it was in his office, slumped over paperwork or maps or the ghosts of decisions he could no longer reverse.
