SERAPHINA’S POV
The first sign that something was wrong was not dramatic.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
For weeks everything had been loud. Headlines. Market swings. Investor calls. Strategic meetings that stretched past midnight. Pressure had become normal.
So when Monday morning arrived without a single alert on my phone I felt uneasy instead of relieved.
I sat at the kitchen island watching the sunlight creep across the marble counter while Alessio finished a call in his office. His voice was low, controlled, measured.
He stepped out a few minutes later, jacket already on.
You are staring at nothing, he said.
I looked up.
Exactly.
He studied me.
You prefer chaos.
I prefer knowing where the attack is coming from.
He adjusted his cuff.
Caruso has gone silent for forty eight hou
