Adrian’s POVThe house is too quiet.After the meeting, everyone left. Luca, the captains, even Isabella. The echoes of their footsteps fade into the walls, swallowed by the hollow stillness of the villa. Now it’s just me and the whisper of wind moving through old stone and heavy curtains.I walk into my father’s study. The room smells of gunpowder and whiskey, the scent of a life built on war. His chair sits behind the desk, turned slightly toward the window, like he left just a moment ago and might walk back in at any second.I’ve avoided that chair since the funeral. Tonight, I don’t.I lower myself into the seat and let out a slow breath. The leather creaks beneath me. My body feels heavy, every movement deliberate, as if I’ve been fighting gravity itself. Maybe I have.On the desk sits a half-finished glass of whiskey and a framed photograph, small, silver-edged, the glass smudged by time. My parents and me. I lift it carefully. My father’s face is hard even in a picture, eyes sh
最終更新日 : 2025-11-07
