FAZER LOGINLorenzo did not return to his chair.He remained standing near the window long after Isadora and the others drifted out of view, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture calm enough to be mistaken for patience.Patience, however, was only useful when it was deliberate.He turned away from the glass and walked through the room slowly, taking in the familiar details—the shelves arranged by height and color, the desk aligned perfectly with the rug beneath it, the faint scent of polished wood. Everything here obeyed order.People, eventually, did too.He stopped at the desk and pressed a button embedded discreetly along its edge.A soft tone sounded.“Bring me the household ledger,” he said into the receiver. “And the staff rotation schedule.”“Yes, sir,” came the reply.Lorenzo released the button and waited.He did not think about Isadora directly yet. That would come later. Instead, he thought about the environment. The structure. The invisible lines that held the island together
Lorenzo remained where he was, standing near the window, his reflection faintly visible in the glass. The garden below looked almost gentle in the morning light. Green hedges trimmed too neatly. White stone paths curved with intention. Everything in its place.Everything obedient.Except her.He did not clench his fists again. He had already done that once. Repeating it would be indulgent. Lorenzo did not indulge emotions unless they served him.Instead, he straightened the cuff of his sleeve.A small, precise movement.“She is calm,” he repeated quietly, replaying Alina’s words. “Protective. Polite.”Polite.The word irritated him more than defiance would have.Defiance was honest. Politeness was controlled. Politeness suggested choice.Isadora had not screamed. Had not begged. Had not sent someone else in her place.She had refused him through a guard.That was not fear.That was calculation.He turned slightly, angling his body so he could see the garden more clearly. Isadora had m
Isabella did not move when Alessandro’s breathing changed.She felt it before she heard it—the subtle shift in his chest, the way his hold loosened just enough to tell her he had crossed that thin line between awareness and sleep. His arm remained around her waist, warm and solid, but the tension in it eased.He slept quickly when he finally allowed himself to.That had always been true.She lay still, listening to the rhythm of him. Slow. Even. Grounded in a way she no longer was. The rise and fall of his chest pressed lightly against her back, anchoring her to the bed, to the moment, to the reality that she was not alone.Not yet.Her eyes remained open, fixed on the faint outline of the window ahead. The city lights filtered through the curtains, blurred and distant, like stars that had lost their meaning.She should have closed her eyes.She did not.Her mind refused to rest.She thought of his words again.You don’t get to shut me out.She had not meant to. That was the truth. It
The room was quiet in the way only night could make it.Not the peaceful kind of quiet, but the tense stillness that came after too many thoughts had been left unspoken. The city beyond the windows glowed faintly, its lights slipping through the sheer curtains and painting soft lines across the walls. Somewhere far below, traffic moved, distant and indifferent. Life continued outside these walls.Inside, everything felt suspended.The sheets were cool beneath Alessandro’s hand, smooth and unfamiliar despite how many nights he had spent in this bed. The air was calm, but there was nothing calm about the way he lay there, facing Isabella, his body tense with restraint.She was on her side, curled slightly toward him.Too close to ignore.Close enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath every time she exhaled. Close enough that he could count the faint pauses between those breaths, the ones she made when her thoughts drifted somewhere heavy.He did not speak at first.He watched
The sound came before the voice.Heavy boots against stone.Measured. Intentional.Isadora felt it before she saw anything—the subtle shift in the air, the way Alina’s shoulders stiffened, the way Amelia’s laughter faded mid-breath.Someone was approaching.Isadora straightened slowly, her back pressing lightly against the fig tree. She placed one hand on the ground, steadying herself, and the other rested instinctively near Amelia, not touching but close enough to protect.A guard stepped into view from between the hedges.He was tall, dressed in black, his posture rigid. His face was unreadable in the way men learned to make themselves when obedience mattered more than thought.He stopped a few feet away and inclined his head—not to Amelia, not to Alina.Only to Isadora.“Miss Isadora,” he said. “Sir Lorenzo requests your presence.”The garden seemed to hold its breath.Amelia’s fingers tightened in the fabric of her dress. Alina’s jaw clenched, though she said nothing.Isadora did
Breakfast ended quietly.The plates were not cleared all at once. No one rushed to stand. The moment felt too delicate, as if movement might shatter it. Amelia sat with her hands folded around her cup, warmth seeping into her fingers. Isadora watched her closely, noting the way her shoulders no longer curled inward as tightly as before.Alina rose first.“Would you like to go outside?” she asked gently. “The garden is calm this time of morning.”Amelia looked up, uncertain. “Outside?”“Yes,” Alina said. “There are flowers. And benches. You can sit if you get tired.”Isadora waited, letting Amelia decide.After a moment, Amelia nodded. “I would like that.”They stood together. Alina gathered the empty cups, placing them neatly aside, while Isadora helped Amelia with her cardigan. The fabric was light, but Amelia held onto it like armor.The doors to the garden opened with a soft creak.Sunlight spilled across the stone path, warm and golden. The air smelled of earth and leaves, fresh a







