Chapter One Hundred Thirty One

Mira’s P.O.V

The villa didn’t sleep that night, even after Luca’s grim declaration. Shadows moved across the courtyard like restless ghosts—guards patrolling, vehicles shifting position, radios murmuring in clipped Tagalog and English codes. It was as if the house itself had braced for impact.

I sat at the long dining table with a mug of lukewarm tea between my palms. My fingers trembled, though I told myself it was from exhaustion. The baby pressed low in my belly, a small, steady weight anchoring me to the chair while the world around me spun.

Across the room, Manang Silva fussed over a tray of food no one wanted to eat. Her hair was tied back, her face pale. “You should eat, iha,” she urged softly. “The baby needs it.”

I forced a smile and reached for the bread she offered. The smell of butter and sugar was oddly comforting, like a memory from a time before all of this. I chewed slowly, tasting nothing, but grateful for her presence. She had become an anchor, one of the few con