ADRIANO POV
"She went to the florist on Thursday," the tracker report stated.
I didn't look up. I didn't have to. I had been reading these reports for three weeks, a daily ritual of monitoring the woman I had locked away. Every Tuesday and Thursday, the ink told the same story: Pharmacy. Post office. Return to the estate. Clean routes. Nothing that required me to breathe any harder.
Until today.
The report sat on my mahogany desk, the letters mocking me. Florist. Back room. Fifteen minutes. And then the name that made my blood turn to ice: Raphael Voss.
I sat back, the leather of my chair creaking in the silent office. I wasn't surprised. I’d seen the way Voss looked at her at Club Nero, like she was a masterpiece he was waiting to steal from a gallery. But seeing his name linked to h
