The morning light in the Rossi-Virelli apartment was soft, filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the burgeoning skyline of Monterio. Dante sat at the small breakfast table, a cup of black coffee in his hand and a stack of blueprints pushed to one side. Across from him, Emilia was looking through a calendar on her tablet, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"Leonardo’s birthday is in two weeks," she said, tapping the screen. "I was thinking of something small. Maybe just a dinner at that bistro he likes, and then a quiet evening here? He’s still adjusting to everything, Dante. I don't want to overwhelm him."
Dante set his coffee down, his eyes turning toward her with a rare, fierce intensity. "No. Not this year, Emilia. For three years, I wasn't there to see h
