The next morning, Rosella woke up to the early sunlight streaming through her blinds, a sense of dread lingering in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t slept well, tossing and turning through a series of restless dreams. Lora’s unsettling phone call and Dante’s persistent messages echoed in her mind like warning bells.
She threw on a simple outfit—jeans, a plain black shirt—and headed for her kitchen to make coffee. The scent of freshly brewed coffee normally soothed her, but today, it felt like just another routine in a life that was quickly spiraling out of control.
As she sipped from her mug, Rosella’s mind raced. Lora had sensed something was off, and she wasn’t wrong. Dante was hiding something, but it was more than just his shady business dealings. His distance, his cold demeanor—it
