The following week unfolded with a steadiness that surprised me. Mornings in the penthouse had shifted from tense negotiations over coffee to something almost routine. Dario still rose early for his gym session, but the single espresso now waited on the marble counter with a quiet predictability. I accepted it without comment, sipping as I reviewed overnight reports on my tablet. The resentment I carried, the sharp awareness that this life, this proximity, had been forced upon me, hadn’t vanished. It lingered like a low grade ache, a reminder of the contract and the leverage he had used. But it no longer burned quite as hot. Competence had a way of dulling edges.
I arrived at Vitale Tower mid-morning after a detour to review warehouse samples. The executive floor hummed with its usual con
