IRINA POVI sat on the edge of the bed, my hands gripping the sheets as Lorenzo stood by the door. His eyes were sharp, and I felt my stomach twist with nervousness. “Irina,” he said, voice firm, “you need to act like you don’t know anything about Isabella. If you show that you understand her, you’ll be dead.” I swallowed, my throat tight. “Dead? You mean… her enemies?” He nodded slowly. “Yes, her's and mine, they’re watching. If they see you react, if they notice doubt, it’s over. Understand?” “Yes,” I whispered, fists tightening. My legs trembled slightly. I wanted to argue, to say I could manage, but the fear in his gaze told me not to. He stepped closer. “Pretend everything Isabella does is normal. If you hesitate, if you reveal anything, it will cost you. Do you get me?” “I will,” I murmured, trying to steady my breathing. He studied me, then straightened. “Good. Keep your distance, observe, survive. That’s all you can do.” Without another word, he left. The click of the
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