Dante told her over breakfast on a Monday.
He sat across from her at the small kitchen table with his coffee and his folder and the particular directness he kept for things she needed to hear without being handled toward them first. No warmup. No easing in.
"Roman met with your father on Saturday," he said.
Sera looked up from her cup. "Again?"
"Your father invited him this time."
She set her coffee down. Small sound on the wood. She looked at Dante across the table.
"What did they talk about?"
"Savio didn't tell me everything." He turned his cup once, a single rotation. "He told me Roman answered a question honestly that most men in that position would have found a way around."
She waited.
"What question," she said.
"What he wants with you."
The kitchen was quiet. Outside the w
