ISABELLA
By the time we reached the mansion, the storm had softened into a cold drizzle, but the world still felt heavy — like the sky hadn’t finished grieving.
The gates opened before our car even slowed, and I realized why. Every servant in the house was lined up outside the front entrance. Their faces were pale, their eyes wide and their hands were clasped in front of them as if in prayer. They knew but didn’t know everything— just enough.
Vito stepped out first, scanning the perimeter with the sharpness of a man who refused to let his guard drop. The security presence had doubled — men from the Romanos and the Belandis stood shoulder‑to‑shoulder, forming a wall of black suits and grim expressions.
Normally, I would’ve argued and tell them it was unnecessary. Or that Adrian wouldn’t
