MasukGwen's POV I didn't tell him I was coming. I just got in my car Friday morning, told Dante to handle anything urgent, and drove straight to Montelira. To the estate. Parts of the property were almost unrecognizable. Metal scaffolding wrapped around the wing damaged by the fire. Blue tarps covered sections of the roof. Men in yellow helmets moved back and forth carrying materials, operating machinery. The sound of power saws and pneumatic drills echoed through hills that were usually quiet. And yet it was still familiar. Deeply familiar. The vineyards were as green and perfectly aligned as ever, endless rows stretching in clean geometric patterns. The scent of warm earth and ripening grapes filled the air. The Castorian sky arched wide and blue above everything, indifferent to the human chaos below. It was beautiful here. It always had been. I parked near the main house, in the part untouched by the fire. I turned off the engine and sat there for a moment, breathing. B
Gwen's POV In the days after the meeting at the gelato shop, something shifted. Subtle. Gradual. Like a thin layer of ice forming over water that used to run free. Nick started sleeping on the couch. "Bella and Martina are using the guest room," he explained the first night, grabbing an extra pillow from the closet. "And I'm going to stay up watching some documentaries about winemaking. I don't want to wake you with the TV." It made sense. It even sounded thoughtful. So I didn't question it. But the second night, he gave the same explanation. Just as casually. The third night, too. The fourth. Before I realized it, an entire week had passed without him sleeping in our bed. The bed felt too big. I started waking up alone every morning. Nick had already left. Always early. Always before the sun had fully risen. "I need to get to the estate early," he would text when I asked. "The contractors start at seven. I want to supervise everything personally." Reasonable.
Renee's POV For one very brief moment, the ground disappeared beneath my feet. I stared at the folder. At the documents. At the words jumping off the page like accusations screamed in bold ink. Investigation. Trafficking. Courier. Suspect. My heart slammed against my ribs. My hands went cold. How? How did they get this? That had been buried. Filed away. Locked inside bureaucratic drawers no one was supposed to access. And yet there it was. Sitting in front of me. Thrown in my face by Princess Kensington with that infuriatingly superior expression. But then, just as quickly, instinct kicked in. My mind started working again. Investigation. Not conviction. Suspect. Not proof. Closed. Due to lack of evidence. And I started to laugh. "You do realize this is worth absolutely nothing, right?" I said once I caught my breath. Gwen looked at me with that icy composure. "You were a courier," she said as if it were an established fact. "No sane judge would grant cu
Gwen's POV Montelira was beautiful that Thursday afternoon. The sun was warm but not scorching. A soft breeze carried the scent of ripening grapes from the surrounding hills. Tourists wandered through the narrow stone streets with that lazy, unhurried energy of people on vacation. Nick and I were sitting at a small table outside the main gelateria in the central square. He had insisted we come here after I told him about Alexander's discovery. He said he needed to process it somewhere far from Florentia. Far from the apartment, on familiar ground. I agreed. I needed fresh air. Perspective. And, if I was being honest, exceptional gelato. I was savoring a cup of chocolate hazelnut gelato melting perfectly on my tongue, while Nick distractedly stirred his pistachio without really eating it. "I still can't believe this," he said eventually, glancing at the discreet folder tucked inside my bag. "Renee…?" "But it makes sense, doesn't it?" I countered. "How did she suddenly
Gwen's POV Going back to work had to happen slowly. Much slower than I wanted. Infinitely slower than I was used to. The first week after I was discharged, I could barely sit at my desk for more than two hours before I had to lie down. My ribs protested every breath. The immobilized arm made everything harder. The fatigue came in unpredictable waves that hit without warning. Frustrating wasn’t even a strong enough word. But by the second week, something shifted. My mind was finally sharp again, even if my body refused to keep up. And that was torture. I could think clearly. Analyze. Plan. Strategize. My brain was back to full power. But physically executing anything? Impossible without pain. Christian tried to send me home three times just on Monday. "You are literally pale," he argued, standing in my office doorway with a worried look. "Go home and rest." "I am resting," I lied shamelessly, typing up a report one-handed. "I’m sitting. See? Resting." He rolled h
Gwen's POV My discharge took longer than I wanted. Ten days in the hospital. Ten days of tests, physical therapy, and doctors checking every last detail before they finally cleared me. But now I was leaving, for real. Nick helped me into the car with exaggerated care, like I might shatter with one wrong move. "I'm fine," I assured him for the tenth time. "You can relax." "You literally came out of a medically induced coma a few days ago," he shot back, reaching across to fasten my seatbelt himself. "I'm going to keep being careful, thanks." I smiled despite the frustration simmering under my skin. I hated feeling fragile. The drive back to the apartment was quiet and smooth. Nick drove slowly, avoiding potholes, keeping the conversation light. When we pulled up in front of the building, the doorman hurried over. "Miss Kensington!" he greeted me with a warm smile. "It’s so good to see you back. We were all worried." "Thank you, Carl," I said, genuinely touched. W
Nathaniel's POV By Tuesday morning, I couldn't pretend I wasn't curious anymore. I'd spent half the night replaying yesterday's scene in my head: the way Annie flipped her phone face-down with all the subtlety of a brick, the guilty expression like a kid caught stealing dessert, and especially tha
Thursday was turning into one of those days when everything lined up against me. First, I woke up half an hour late because my alarm decided not to ring. Then I discovered I was out of milk for my coffee. And when I finally made it to the office, Nate showed up at my desk at three thirty with a seri
Nathaniel's POV I tossed enough cash on the table to cover the bill and went after her. I couldn't let things end like that, not when I finally understood why she'd spent the whole evening acting like some corporate robot. I found her on the sidewalk outside the restaurant, staring at her phone
"I spent the whole morning rehearsing what I was going to say to Nate. In theory, it was simple. Thank him for the gifts, accept the record, then return the necklace. So why were my hands shaking? By Thursday morning, the office buzzed with a totally different energy. It wasn't the usual chatte







