Luca stood still, his posture deceptively calm, though his heart was far from it.
His eyes followed Alessia, tracing the stubborn set of her jaw, the glint of coldness that replaced the warmth he once knew.
He didn't push.
He didn't beg. He knew her memories were gone or worse, clouded by something sinister and forcing her to remember would only push her further away.
Instead, he stayed silent, a steady anchor in the storm she was trapped in.
But the pain was there, quietly gnawing at him, the woman he loved now looked at him as though he were the enemy.
It was Lauretta Morano, his mother, who finally broke the tension.
Her voice, calm yet edged with urgency, carried the weight of old secrets.
"We cannot wait any longer," Lauretta said, her gaze moving between her son and the woman who once called him hers. "Something has been done to her, Luca. This… this is not natural."
