That night, Evelyn didn't sleep a single hour.At first light, she booked the earliest flight back from Italy to the States. The whole way, she told herself Alex was just angry—that he wanted her to realize her mistake. He'd probably still be at home waiting. Maybe if she apologized, everything could go back to how it was.But the moment she opened the front door, her last shred of hope shattered.The house was pitch black. Deathly quiet. She flipped on the lights—living room, kitchen, bedroom—every corner was eerily clean, as if someone had carefully erased every trace of themselves before leaving. The guest room bed was made perfectly. Alex's clothes, books, belongings—all gone. She rushed to the study and found it just as empty. The modern books, historical records, finance and industry notes he'd collected over ten years—all vanished. Nothing but bare shelves.Evelyn stood there, a chill crawling up her spine. She started tearing through everything.Closets, drawers, desks, storage
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