Valentina's POV
The coffee had gone cold twenty minutes ago.
I still held the cup anyway.
The porcelain warmed my hands just enough to stop the tremor that kept threatening to surface beneath my skin, and right now that counted as stability.
Across from me, Alessandro stood at the far side of the study with one hand braced against the mantle, staring into a fire that had long since stopped being about warmth.
Morning had fully arrived outside, but the room still felt suspended somewhere between night and aftermath.
Heavy curtains muted the grey daylight into something dim and bruised, leaving the study drenched in the amber flicker of the fireplace and the weak glow of two antique wall sconces.
It smelled like cedar smoke, coffee, and exhaustion.
A wedding portrait sat half-unpacked against the bookshelf.
Sofia, radiant and smiling beneath cathedral light.
Alessandro looking at her like he had finally found something in the world worth laying down weapons for.
