The church bells rang twice that morning, though no one was getting married.
Emilia stood at the edge of the courtyard, her black dress clinging to her like second skin in the humid city heat. The last of the mourners had left. Only the scent of lilies and iron remained, thick in the air, curling into her lungs with every shallow breath she took. Dario’s coffin had been lowered into the ground less than two hours ago, and yet the world seemed to be moving on already- except her.
A strange tension stirred inside her. Rafael hadn’t shown up at the burial. He’d called, briefly, saying it was better if he stayed out of sight. She wasn’t sure if that was cowardice or caution. Maybe both.
But the world didn’t wait for grief to settle.
“Signorina Emilia?”
The voice startled her. It was a man
