Mag-log inDrisana“I’m sorry, Drisana, but we won’t be moving forward with the order.”I stared at the spreadsheet on my laptop, though the numbers had stopped making sense several seconds ago.“Won’t be moving forward?” I repeated.There was a pause on the other end of the call.“We’ve reviewed our current commitments. Given the circumstances, we don’t think this is the right time to resume our partnership.”The circumstances.I leaned back in my chair.“Which circumstances are those, exactly?”Another pause.“I’m sure you understand.”I almost laughed.I understood perfectly. My name was still too dangerous for their comfort. A year away from the public eye hadn’t erased anything. It had only given people enough time to decide whether associating with me was worth the trouble.Apparently, the answer was no.“I see,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “Thank you for letting me know.”“Of course. We wish you the best.”The call ended.I placed my phone on the desk and stared at it.The office in
ArmaniIt had been four days since Drisana moved into the annex.Four days since she had walked past me on the stairs and told me not to say her name. Four days since she had begun treating our marriage like an arrangement with carefully defined boundaries, and I had agreed to every one of them.At least, publicly.The annex windows stood across the garden, their curtains drawn halfway. I had learned which one belonged to her bedroom, which one overlooked the study, and which one she left open whenever she wanted fresh air.I had also learned that watching those windows for an hour did not make them open any faster.Luca shifted in my arms.I looked down at my son.He was lying against my chest, his small fingers curled around the collar of my shirt. Agnes had brought him to me twenty minutes earlier, reminding me that I had one allotted hour with him before his afternoon nap.One hour.Apparently, even my time with my own son now came with a schedule. I adjusted Luca against my chest
DrisanaThe first thing I noticed was how heavy Luca had become.He was enough to remind me that he was growing while I had been standing outside his nursery door, convincing myself that staying away was the safest thing I could do.I stood beside his crib, watching him sleep.His tiny chest rose and fell beneath his blanket. One hand rested beside his cheek, his fingers curled loosely.I had been standing there for several minutes.Then I reached down, my hands shook as I lifted him. He stirred against me, his face scrunching briefly before settling against my chest.I held my breath. Nothing happened. No panic. No sudden image of Matteo falling. No urge to put him down and run.Just Luca.My son.I lowered myself into the rocking chair and held him closer. His warmth seeped through my clothes. I pressed my lips against his hair. He smelled of baby lotion and sleep.A small, broken sound escaped me.I began to cry.These tears came quietly. They slipped down my cheeks as I rocked him
ArmaniThe cemetery was quiet when I arrived.A thin layer of morning mist hung over the dark grass, settling between the rows of stone monuments and the old cypress trees surrounding the private grounds.I stepped out of the car in a black suit, the jacket buttoned over a black shirt. The air carried the faint scent of damp earth and flowers.Beyond the iron gates, the family had gathered. No outsiders. No press and definitely no curious faces looking for a glimpse of the Moretti family mourning one of its own. Only blood, loyalty, and the men who had built their lives around both.I adjusted my cuffs and looked toward the casket. Matteo lay inside it.I had seen him on the warehouse floor. I had watched Enzo hold him against his chest, begging him to open his eyes.But the casket made the death feel final in a way the shooting hadn’t.There would be no movement.No sudden breath or any chance of him opening his eyes and turning the entire room upside down again.He was gone.And I w
DrisanaThe nursery door stood three steps away.I had been standing in front of it for almost five minutes. My hand hovered near the handle, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch it.Behind the door, I could hear the faint sound of movement. Agnes was probably inside with Luca. Maybe the nanny was there too.My son was on the other side. I should have walked in. I should have opened the door, crossed the room, and picked him up.Instead, I stood there, staring at the handle.This was the third day—three days since I’d held my son. I lowered my hand and turned away. “This is just temporary,” I murmured to myself. This was what I had been telling myself since the night we returned. Just until I felt better and my hands stopped trembling. Until the image of Matteo lying on the floor stopped appearing every time I closed my eyes.I walked down the hallway.The house had returned to its usual rhythm. Staff moved quietly through the corridors. Doors opened and closed. Someone spoke downst
DrisanaThe gun felt heavier than it should have.My fingers tightened around the grip as I stared past Armani’s shoulder.Matteo’s hand was disappearing beneath his jacket.“I should have done this a long time ago.”Something cold rushed through me. He pulled out a gun and raised it toward Armani. Everything happened at once. The weapon came up. Armani moved and my body moved before my mind could catch up. I didn’t know what came over me. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe reflex. Or maybe it was the hatred I still carried for Matteo. Whatever it was, I raised my gun.A deafening crack tore through the room.BANG!Matteo jerked backward. For one second, he remained standing. Then his gun slipped from his hand. His knees buckled and he hit the floor.Silence swallowed the room.I stared at him. I couldn’t hear anything. Not the shouting or the footsteps or even my own breathing. My hand was still raised, still holding the gun. I looked down at it. It was shaking.No.Not shaking. Trembling
ARMANI “Will you be my boyfriend?” I stared at her. If I said that didn’t catch me off guard I’d be lying. It was so sudden. There she goes again. Amusing me without doing too much. She stared back with her chin up like whatever she had just asked was completely normal. The courage of this w
DRISANA Carter was calling again. I watched his name light up my screen and let it go dark without touching it. Seventeen missed calls since last night. I had lain in the dark with my phone face up on the pillow, staring at that unanswered text until the light outside my window changed color
ARMANI *Who are you?* Eight months and she picks tonight to ask. Not a random Tuesday. Not after one of those late conversations where something almost real slipped through before one of us pulled it back. Tonight. When her fiancé had brutally thrust inside her best friend in doggy style and h
DRISANA The elevator was taking too long. I shifted my weight and checked my phone again, still nothing from Carter. No be there soon, no running late, no anything. Just two blue ticks that told me he had read both texts and decided I wasn’t worth a reply. It was Sloane who convinced me to com







