The city pulsed with quiet danger. From the Moretti estate to the darkest alleyways, every shadow seemed alive, waiting, whispering. But inside the estate, even the bright chandeliers and polished marble could not chase away the darkness creeping through the halls.
Adriana moved cautiously, her heels silent on the polished floors. She felt watched, though Damian was nowhere in sight. Her heart had been heavy all day, burdened by Isabella’s insinuations and the gnawing weight of Damian’s silence. Every glance Isabella threw toward her in public, every soft word meant to wound, lingered in Adriana’s mind like a snake coiled and waiting to strike.
She stepped into the library, hoping for quiet. The room smelled of aged books and polished wood — a sanctuary she longed to claim.
But Isabella
