Questioning Loyalty.
Lorenzo felt the suspicion weigh him down like a boulder.
Alessandra had remained eerily calm since the assault on the DeVargas Packhouse. Too calm. She had acted with disturbing confidence, placing the blame on Isabella with almost too much certainty, while others frantically sought answers and whispered theories.
Lorenzo was outside Alessandra's room tonight, gazing at the candlelight that flickered beneath the hefty wooden door. The scent of incense filled the air, covering up something sharper, the subtle metallic tang of deceit.
He took a deep breath and entered.
With her back to him, Alessandra sat at her elaborate desk. The glint of ink on parchment caught his eye, but before he could read the words, she swiftly rolled the scroll shut.
"Lorenzo," she greet
