Serafina’s POV
The room felt smaller once everyone was inside it.
Not physically. Emotionally.
The old conference space Elena had chosen was all glass and steel, meant to intimidate through transparency. A place where numbers were broken down and people reduced to leverage. The city stretched beneath us in clean lines and blinking lights, pretending it wasn’t built on blood.
I stood near the window, arms folded, watching my reflection overlap the skyline.
Matteo leaned against the far wall, quiet, observant. Vittorio took the seat closest to the door habit, not accident. Elena stood at the head of the table like she owned it.
No one spoke at first.
That was how fractures began. Silence stretching until it became an accusation.
“Say it,” Vittorio finally said. His voice was calm, b
