. . . ELEANOR I sighed, feeling the tension in the room like a thick fog that wouldn’t lift. Dante’s face was set in a hard line, his jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened with a simmering rage that was evident to anyone who dared to look. He was more furious than my father and his own combined, his mood a storm that threatened to break at any moment. Giovanni, with a calm yet firm voice, tried to reason with him, urging him to reconsider whatever was fueling his anger. But Dante wasn’t listening. His eyes flashed with a dangerous intensity, and without a word, he turned sharply and stormed out of the room, heading towards the bedroom. My heart raced as I watched him go. I knew this was bad—worse than I had seen him in a long time. I quickly followed, my heels clicking against th

