Mason’s POV📍ITALYThe evening had settled into that particular kind of quiet I’d come to love about this house, the one that only showed up once the staff had gone home and the sound of the city outside had faded into something distant and forgettable. My study faced the garden, and through the tall windows I could see the last of the light catching the olive trees my late wife had insisted on planting years ago, back when this place was still new to both of us. I never had the heart to take them out, even after everything.I sat behind my desk with a glass of red wine I hadn’t touched in a while, my laptop open in front of me, working through a report from one of the smaller vineyards I’d taken an interest in over the past year. It wasn’t glamorous work, nothing like the perfume houses or the fashion investments that had made my name decades ago, but there was something calming about numbers that behaved themselves, about soil reports and rainfall averages and the simple, honest ma
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