The marble is cold beneath you, but you are warm. You surface slowly - the ache in your temples, the familiar hollow feeling after a faint. The grand hallway is dim, chandelier light low and amber. Somewhere outside a clock ticks. Then you feel arms. His arms. Still wrapped around you, steady as stone, like he never moved an inch. Luca. The most feared man alive - and he has been sitting on this floor, holding you, for hours. You know this hall. You know what happened here years ago. So does he. And tonight, when you collapsed in the same spot your mother did, something in him must have broken open. His men wait outside the doors. The world waits. But Luca doesn't move.