SERENA POV
"She's not just grieving," I said, rubbing the bridge of my nose. My eyes burned from staring at the bright display.
Luca tapped a few keys, his face illuminated by the blue glare of his monitor. "No," he muttered. "She is definitely not just grieving."
It was two in the morning. The kitchen table had completely transformed into a war room. The remnants of our dinner were pushed to the floor, replaced by a chaotic sprawl of printouts, network maps, and three different laptops. Yuna sat to my right, typing rapidly, while Adriano stood perfectly still by the dark window, his coffee mug untouched and leaving a faint ring of condensation on the sill.
Spread across my screen were four years of Valentina Marini’s financial history. It was a massive, tangled web of numbers, but the
