Peace did not arrive loudly.
It crept in slowly, like dawn after a night that had almost swallowed the world whole.
The city healed in pieces—streets reopened, businesses stabilized, whispers of war faded into cautionary tales. Luca Romano’s name returned to what it had always been meant to represent: control, order, finality.
But inside the walls of the Romano estate, something softer took root.
Elena healed.
Her body recovered faster than her heart, but Luca was there for every moment—the quiet nights, the restless mornings, the long silences where words were unnecessary. He no longer ruled from distance. He ruled from presence.
One evening, weeks later, rain traced slow lines down the bedroom windows. The city beyond was quiet, obedient.
Elena stood near the window, wrapped in si
