AURORA:
The house felt different the next morning.
Not quiet.
Not peaceful.
Just… unsettled.
Aurora noticed it immediately.
It wasn't something she could see, but she could feel it — in the way the air seemed heavier, in the way the silence didn't comfort but lingered.
Like something had entered the house and refused to leave.
She found Isabella in the living room.
The little girl sat curled slightly into herself, a book open in her lap, her fingers resting on the page without turning it.
She wasn't reading.
She was just… there.
"Good morning," Aurora said softly.
Isabella looked up.
There was a small smile.
But it didn't stay.
"Good morning."
Aurora walked over and sat beside her, close enough to be comforting but not overwhelming.
"You didn't sleep well."
It wasn't a question.
Isabella shook her head.
Aurora reached out gently, brushing her hair back.
"You don't have to think about yesterday," she said.
Silence.
Then—
"But she came back."
Aurora's hand paused for a second before continuing its gentle movement.
"Yes."
Isabella's fingers tightened on the book.
"Will she come again?"
Aurora didn't answer immediately.
Because the truth was—
She didn't know.
"I don't know," she said softly. "But you're not alone."
Isabella looked at her for a long moment.
Then slowly—
She leaned closer.
Aurora wrapped her arms around her without hesitation.
And this time—
Isabella held on.
Tighter than before.
Aurora closed her eyes briefly.
Not because she was overwhelmed.
But because she understood something in that moment.
This wasn't just a job anymore.
And that realization…
Was dangerous.
She looked up.
And found Luca watching.
He stood at the doorway, silent, his expression unreadable.
But his eyes—
They weren't.
Aurora gently pulled back from Isabella.
"I'll be right back," she said softly.
Isabella didn't protest.
But her fingers lingered before letting go.
Aurora stood and walked toward Luca.
"Come," he said.
LUCA:
He shouldn't have been watching.
But he had been.
Long enough to notice things he didn't want to notice.
She went to Aurora.
Not to him.
And that—
Should have bothered him more than it did.
But it didn't.
That was the problem.
Luca walked into his office, already knowing Aurora would follow.
She always did what was necessary.
Not more.
Not less.
Controlled.
Just like him.
"She won't come back here like that again," he said.
Aurora nodded.
"I understand."
"You handled it well."
"It was necessary."
"She's unstable."
Aurora met his gaze.
"And desperate."
That made him pause.
"She won't stop," she added quietly.
"I'll handle it."
Aurora didn't look convinced.
"You can't control everything."
Luca's jaw tightened slightly.
"I don't need to. Just enough."
For a moment—
Neither of them spoke.
Because both of them knew—
That might not be true.
AURORA:
Aurora stayed with Isabella longer than usual that afternoon.
They didn't read.
Didn't practice.
They just sat together.
Isabella leaned against her side, quiet, her small fingers occasionally gripping Aurora's sleeve.
Aurora didn't move.
But her thoughts weren't still.
Something about yesterday hadn't settled.
The woman's eyes.
The way she looked at the house.
At Isabella.
At her.
It hadn't been random.
It had been intentional.
And that—
That made Aurora uneasy.
"Do you want to go outside later?" she asked gently.
Isabella hesitated.
Then shook her head.
Aurora didn't push.
"It's okay," she murmured.
But even as she said it—
She wasn't sure it was true.
LUCA:
Luca didn't like patterns he couldn't control.
And right now—
Things were starting to form one.
He stood by the window in his office, his gaze fixed outside, his mind sharp.
Ricci is moving.
That alone was enough to put him on edge.
But what came after—
That was worse.
He's asking questions. Personal ones.
That wasn't business.
That was a strategy.
"She came yesterday," Luca said.
Matteo straightened slightly.
"I figured."
"The timing isn't a coincidence."
Matteo frowned.
"You think it's connected."
"Yes."
No hesitation.
"She's unstable," Matteo said.
"And desperate," Luca added.
Silence followed.
"If Ricci is asking questions—"
"Then someone gave him a reason," Matteo finished.
Exactly.
Luca's expression darkened.
"And she walked into this house yesterday."
Matteo went still.
"You think she'd go that far?"
"Yes."
Because Luca knew her.
Knew what she became when she was losing control.
Unpredictable.
Reckless.
Dangerous.
"Keep an eye on her," Luca said.
"I already am."
But Luca wasn't satisfied.
Because something had already started.
And he intended to end it.
Before it reached his door again.
Ex-wife&Ricci:
She hated the silence without her.
The house had looked…
Wrong.
Too calm.
Too clean.
Too replaced.
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the table.
She had seen it.
The way the girl clung to her.
Not to her.
To Aurora.
Her jaw clenched.
No.
That wouldn't last.
"You said you had something I want."
Ricci's voice pulled her back.
She looked at him.
Studied him.
Calm.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
"I do," she said.
"Then talk."
She didn't hesitate.
"I know his routines. His habits. His weaknesses."
Ricci's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Weaknesses?"
Her lips curved.
"He has something to lose now."
That got his attention.
"And what do you want?" he asked.
Her expression hardened.
"I want my life back."
Silence.
Then—
Ricci smiled.
"Then we can help each other.
(Later)
She didn't rush this time.
She couldn't afford to.
Her fingers hovered over her phone.
Then she opened the image.
The house.
Taken from a distance.
And there—
Near the window—
Aurora.
Unaware.
Her lips curved slowly.
"Let's see how long you last," she murmured.
Then she sent it.
LUCA:
Luca's phone buzzed once.
He ignored it at first.
Then something told him not to.
He picked it up.
Opened the message.
And went still.
The image was clear.
Too clear.
The house.
From outside.
And the angle—
Intentional.
His eyes shifted slightly.
To the figure near the window.
Aurora.
Unaware.
Exposed.
Another message came in.
You can't protect everything.
Luca's expression darkened.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
Because now—
This wasn't a possibility anymore.
It was real.
And someone had just crossed a line they wouldn't survive.