Dante’s POV
"She is still in her room?"
I didn't look up from the tablet in my hand, my thumb scrolling through the morning market reports without truly absorbing a single number. The coffee in front of me had gone cold ten minutes ago, untouched.
"Yes, Sir," Peter replied, adjusting the silverware on the empty placemat across from me. "I believe she is... preparing."
"Preparing for what?" I scoffed, taking a sip of the bitter, cold liquid. "Gardening? Or perhaps a tour of the library? I was quite clear about the restrictions."
"I am not sure, Sir."
I set the cup down, a dark satisfaction settling in my chest. It was petty, yes. Grounding a grown woman, my wife, under the guise of security protocols because she had hugged a man in a park. But looking at that empty chair, knowing she
