Valentina POV
The silence in the room after Renzo’s confession was heavier than the darkness pressing against the high windows.
He stood in the center of my ruined living room, wiping a streak of rain from his cheekbone. He looked broken, exposed, and entirely at my mercy—a man who had just stripped his soul bare to explain why Carmela Ricci had him by the throat.
Private clinics in Switzerland. Extortion. Uncataloged paintings.
It was a brilliant story. It explained everything.
And yet, as I stood three feet away from him, my thumb tracing the rough casing of my phone, the blood in my veins ran ice-cold. Renzo’s eyes were soft, brimming with desperate sincerity, but his stance was wrong. His weight was distributed evenly on the balls of his feet. His shoulders weren't slumped in defe
