For the first time in a long time, Martina Fontana knew what peace felt like.
It wasn’t the kind of peace that came from surrender or compromise. No, the peace she had now was the rare kind—the one that had been earned, fought for, and bled for.
It was the kind that came when you had already won.
She lay in bed, wrapped in soft sheets and the lingering warmth of the man beside her. The morning light crept in through the large windows, casting golden streaks across the room. The estate was silent, save for the distant hum of the city beyond their walls.
Beside her, Elias stirred.
Martina turned her head, watching as his dark lashes flickered open, his sharp, calculating eyes meeting hers.
He smirked. “You’re staring.”
Martina arched a brow. “I like looking at what’s mine.”
Elias hu
