The day in Milan had begun under the sign of celebration, but fate, indifferent to human triumphs, had reserved a twist stained in scarlet. The ceremony awarding the Prize for Excellence in Restoration, held in the white marble foyer of the foundation’s new headquarters, marked the pinnacle of Sofia’s trajectory. She was radiant, her cream silk dress accentuating her posture of leadership, while Lorenzo, at her side, displayed the pride that only a man who has found his equal could feel. Nothing—not even the veiled threats from defeated rivals—seemed capable of piercing the bubble of power and passion that enveloped them.“You were flawless in your speech,” Lorenzo murmured, drawing close to her as the afternoon waned and the hall began to empty. “Milan finally understands that the foundation isn’t a façade. It’s you.”“We are, Lorenzo,” she corrected, taking his hand and feeling the steady anchor he always provided.The attack happened in the split second they crossed the atrium towa
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