When the news of Bella’s death reached Dante, he sat with it for approximately thirty seconds before setting it aside entirely.He did not feel grief. He examined himself for it, the way a person checks their pockets for something they suspect they’ve lost, and found nothing. What he found instead was something closer to relief — clean and uncomplicated and, if he was honest with himself, long overdue.Now, he thought, there is nothing in the way.Elena was rich. Elena was beautiful. Elena was everything he had convinced himself he deserved, and his mother adored her, and the path forward had never looked cleaner or more straightforward.As for Bella — well. She had made her choices. She had built her life on a lie and aimed poison at an innocent woman and the universe had, in its own way, responded accordingly.He did not arrange a burial. There were simply too many other things requiring his attention.Margaret felt much the same. Bella had known things — dangerous things, things th
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