Lina
The boutique’s air still clings to me—perfume, silk, the hush of money. I step into the sun, phone already in hand. They didn’t see me. Gabby and Kat were too busy gossiping, too loud, too careless.
I dial Ivan.
“They’re doing the rehearsal dinner Friday night,” I say. “Rooftop. Sunset. Luca’s favorite.”
Ivan’s voice is calm, pleased. “They let that slip?”
“Gabby was talking to Kat like I wasn’t even there. They don’t suspect a thing.”
“Then they’re getting sloppy,” he says. “Perfect.”
I glance back at the boutique window, where my reflection looks every inch the donna I’m meant to be.
“They think they’re planning a celebration,” I say. “But they’re handing us the schedule.”
Ivan chuckles. “Let them decorate the stage. We’ll decide who walks off it.”
I smile, slow and sure.
