sunsets, sins& surrender

Two days came and went. Her suitcase stood by the door, untouched. The marble kitchen where flour once danced in the air now felt like a memory pressed between pages of a book she didn’t want to close. Her name was Evie Moreau — heiress to a family name built on empire and silence. In their world, vulnerability was weakness, and pleasure was bought, not felt. She hadn’t known warmth like Luca’s touch. It haunted her. But that morning, as the sunrise painted gold across Luca’s back, she knew she couldn’t stay. Reality had no room for daydreams. “I have to go,” she whispered, slipping into her silk dress. He sat up, hair tousled, eyes still laced with sleep and something deeper — fear, maybe. Or understanding. “You’ll come back,” he said softly. She didn’t reply. — Three months later, Rome. The gala glittered with diamonds, crystal glasses, and hollow conversations. Evie’s smile was the one she had perfected for years — the one that said *I’m fine*. But beneath her pearl necklace lay skin that still remembered his touch. That night, her father introduced her to a man. “He’s from a good family,” he said. *Good* meant powerful. *Good* meant arranged.