Luca’s POV
I have always believed that a man should never leave a place looking defeated.
It does not matter if the building is on fire or if the walls are collapsing or if the ground beneath his shoes is cracking open like thin ice over deep water, because a man like me does not rush out with panic on his face. A man like me walks. Slowly. Calmly. As if he chose to leave before the damage even began.
That is what I told myself while I stood in the driveway of the vacation house in Switzerland, watching the early morning fog settle over the mountains like a blanket pretending everything was peaceful.
The house looked innocent. Wooden walls. Wide windows. A balcony that had once made Serafina laugh when snow fell too heavily and she tried to catch flakes in her bare hands. I remembered
