The package arrives during breakfast.
I'm halfway through my espresso, scanning the morning's intelligence reports on my tablet, when Elena—one of Lorenzo's household staff—appears in the doorway of the dining room. She's holding a black box, sleek and expensive-looking, tied with silver ribbon that catches the light.
"Mrs. Moretti," she says, and I still haven't gotten used to that name, "this was left at the gate."
Lorenzo looks up from his phone, instantly alert. In our world, unexpected deliveries aren't gifts—they're potential threats. "Who delivered it?" he asks, already on his feet.
"A courier service. The guards checked it for explosives. It's clean."
I set down my cup and extended my hand. "Bring it here."
Elena hesitates, glancing at Lorenzo. He nods once, but I can feel th
