Leonardo walked into the study room.
Lina stood near the window, arms folded, her expression unreadable. The soft afternoon light lit up her features, making her eyes even sharper.
Leonardo frowned. He rarely saw that look on her face unless something had deeply unsettled her.
"What happened, Mom?" he asked, voice cold but serious. "Why did you call me so urgently?"
Lina turned slowly, her tone calm but edged with steel. "Where is your wife?"
Leonardo blinked. "In her room, I guess. Why?"
"She didn't come down all morning. She didn't eat. And when the maid knocked, she didn't even respond."
Leonardo's brows knit together. "Maybe she's tired. She sleeps like a log—"
Lina interrupted, voice low and cold. "Leonardo. She didn't sleep like that when I was here and I know what silent suffering looks like."
Leonardo exhaled slowly, still confused. "Why are you telling me this?"
