Serafina’s POV
We didn’t leave together.
That was the first consequence. Vittorio exited without looking back, his steps measured, controlled, like a man already rerunning contingencies in his head. Elena stayed behind, gathering her tablet and papers with deliberate calm, as though the room hadn’t just split down the middle.
Matteo waited until the end, eyes tracking both of them, making sure no one followed me.
No one said goodbye.
By the time the elevator doors slid shut, the silence felt heavier than the argument had.
The city outside was still lit, still humming, still pretending it wasn’t built on deals like the one we’d just failed to make. I leaned my forehead briefly against the cool glass of the elevator wall and exhaled slowly.
The safehouse Matteo took me to wasn’t one
