Nicoletta closed her eyes. For a heartbeat, her breath faltered. Her heart gave a traitorous shiver. But she didn’t answer. She couldn’t.
If she allowed herself to feel again—even for a second—everything would collapse. Her house. Her clan. Her brother. Her duty. Everything.
She turned off the screen, but the phrase he’d sent had already carved itself into her chest.
Forever.
She descended the marble staircase, each step echoing the hollow weight inside her. The house was quiet, but then she heard laughter—light, sugary, painfully fake. A woman’s laughter.
Marcus was already sitting in the kitchen, relaxed and confident, like he owned the place. Next to him sat a blonde woman in a designer dress, flawlessly painted lips curved into a smile that screamed one thing: “I’m here to win.”
