**Stefano’s POV **
I hit the doorframe on my way in, the pain barely registering. Martina was in the living room, a nervous wreck, her fingers twisting her apron. As soon as she saw me, she rushed over. “She won’t open the door, Stefano,” she whispered, her eyes wide with worry. “She said she wasn’t hungry. She wouldn’t let me in.”
My chest felt constricted. “Which door?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Elena’s.”
“I’ll handle it.” I didn’t wait for her reply. I took the stairs two at a time, my pulse loud in my ears. Every step felt heavier than the last. When I reached Elena’s door, I braced myself. My hand shook as I touched the cold knob, the silence inside more terrifying than any scream.
I knocked once. The sound echoed in the hallway.
“Elena,” I said, my voice sounding ro
