Sebastian pushed open the heavy doors of the Moretti mansion, the cold night air rushing to meet him as if to wash away the suffocating tension of the evening. The chill bit at his skin, but it did nothing to quiet the pounding in his chest. As he made his way down the stone steps, the thought that had gripped him since he exited the room looped over and over in his mind: Aria Moretti, my wife. The word wife felt foreign, as if it belonged to someone else’s life, not his. It lodged itself in his chest like a jagged shard, sharp and unyielding.
Matthew trailed behind, his unease evident. He had spent years at Sebastian’s side, knew him better than most, and could count on one hand the times he’d seen his employer so rattled. But there was a barrier between them now, a tension that made Mat
