Semua Bab Valerio's Secretary: Bab 91 - Bab 95

Zara's POVI walk back to my desk with my legs feeling like jelly. The hallway feels too long, the walls too close, like they are closing in on me. I keep my spine straight, my head high, though my insides are crumbling, and my face blank. I will not give anybody the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I sit down and open my laptop. The cursor blinks at me, waiting. My hands rest on the keyboard, but I can’t make them move. The flowers from Kenji are still soft and gentle on the corner of my desk.I force myself to work. Emails, reports, and coordinating with other teams. My fingers move across the keys on autopilot, but my mind stays trapped in that office. Nonno’s cold voice and how he called me a distraction. The way Valerio sat there in silence while his grandfather dismantled my dignity piece by piece. He did not speak or defend me. He just let it happen. I press my palms flat against the desk and draw in a slow shaky breath. The tears burn behind my eyes. I blink them back hard.

Valerio's POVSleep refuses to elude me.I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, the boy's face burned into my mind. His dark curls. His eyes. The stubborn line of his chin. Every time I close my eyes, I see him running toward her, his arms outstretched, his smile bright and unguarded.I see myself.I push the covers aside and stand up. The penthouse is dark and silent. The city sprawls below, indifferent to the war raging inside me. I walk to the study, my feet bare against the cold floor.I open the bottom drawer of the old oak desk. Tucked away beneath a stack of papers is a leather-bound album I have not touched in years. My mother's handwriting is still visible on the spine: "Valerio — I primi anni." (Valerio—The Early Years)I pull it out. The leather is soft, worn from years of handling. I open it.The first page is a photograph of a baby with dark curls and wide, curious eyes. I stare at the image, my thumb tracing the small face.I turn the page. A toddler, maybe two years old,

Zara's POVI lie in the dark, the ghost of Kenji’s gentle forehead kiss still lingering on my skin. It was kind. Safe. Everything I should want. And yet it left me emptier than before. I press my palms to my eyes and let out a shaky breath. Why do I keep doing this to myself? Why do I let myself feel guilty for enjoying a moment of peace? Why does every soft, uncomplicated moment only make me miss the dangerous intensity of a My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I reach for it, expecting Kenji, or Luca, or maybe a work email. Valerio.The name glows on the screen, and my heart stops. My hands are trembling. I stare at his name, my thumb hovering over the screen. I should not answer. I should let it go to voicemail. I should protect what little peace I have left.There’s nothing else to talk about, and I have certainly had enough of his lies. I answer anyway."Zara." His voice is rough, urgent. The sound of it cuts through me like a blade, raw, familiar and achingly close."Valerio