ADRIÁN POV
I find her on the hotel terrace at eleven at night, exactly where I knew she would be. I’ve spent the last six hours watching her movements from a distance, waiting for the moment when the children were asleep, when Carla had retreated to her own room, when she would finally be alone and with no possible escape.
And now she’s here, standing by the wrought-iron railing, staring out at the lights of Milan as if she might find answers in a city that isn’t entirely hers. Her shoulders are tense, her posture rigid, every line of her body screaming that she knows I’m here, that she knows this conversation is inevitable, that she knows the five years of carefully constructed lies are about to collapse.
My footsteps on the terrace tiles alert her. She stiffens visibly, her hand movin
