The hills of Tuscany were a rolling sea of emerald and gold, a landscape so perfect it felt like another simulation. The air was thick with the scent of blooming jasmine and expensive grapes, a sharp contrast to the smell of sulfur and burnt flesh that had defined Nala’s life only forty eight hours ago.
Nala stood on the marble terrace of the Moretti villa, her fingers wrapped around a crystal glass of sparkling water. She was wearing a dress of pure silk, the color of a bruised plum. To anyone watching from the vineyards below, she looked like the queen of the empire. A woman who had finally found peace.
"Life is beautiful, isn't it?"
Nala didn't turn around. She knew that voice. It was the voice that had fed her bacon and coffee in a dream while her body was being electrocuted in a va
