Serafina’s POV
The fracture didn’t end with raised voices.
That was the part I misunderstood about breaking points. I imagined explosions shouting, slammed doors, final words hurled like knives. But this time it was quieter. They settled into the bones and stayed there, aching long after the noise faded.
When Elena left the room, she didn’t slam the door. She gathered her tablet, straightened her jacket, and walked out with her spine rigid and her expression carved into something sharp and unyielding.
That restraint frightened me more than her anger would have.
Vittorio didn’t follow her. He stayed seated long enough for the silence to become deliberate, then rose, adjusted his cufflinks, and nodded once as an acknowledgment, not a farewell.
“I’ll handle what stays close,” he said e
