The morning sun spilled across the kitchen table, turning the half-empty mugs of tea into small pools of gold. Serena sat slouched in her chair, her spoon idly circling the cold tea she hadn't touched. Across from her, Chloe was in full storytelling mode, animatedly acting out how their professor had tripped over his own shoelace in front of the class.
Jade was giggling until her laughter turned into a small gasp as the baby kicked. She pressed a hand against her stomach, her eyes wide with delight. "She's going to be a dancer," Jade announced.
Chloe smirked. "Or she's just protesting your weird craving combinations."
"Don't start," Jade warned, pointing her spoon, though her smile gave her away.
Serena tried to join their laughter, but her mind was still back in her father's study, Vale's words echoing like a weight she couldn't shake. Learn the difference. It may save you one day.
Her mother shuffled in, hair pinned messily, her face drawn. "Serena, you didn't sleep much, did you?"
Serena forced a smile. "I'm fine."
Her mother looked like she wanted to press more, but instead, she sighed and patted Serena's shoulder before moving toward the stove.
That was the rhythm of their lives—always circling grief but never speaking its name.
By midday, Serena couldn't breathe under the weight of the apartment. She slipped outside, walking aimlessly through the city streets, past the bustling shops and vendors calling out their daily specials. The world felt too alive for the heaviness inside her.
And then she saw him.
Dante leaned casually against a black car parked at the corner café, dark sunglasses hiding his eyes. As if sensing her, he straightened, slid the glasses off, and those piercing eyes locked onto hers.
Serena froze. Part of her wanted to turn and walk away, but her feet betrayed her, carrying her closer.
"Coffee?" he asked, as though they were old acquaintances meeting by chance.
Her chest tightened. "You shouldn't be here."
"I could say the same for you." His smile was sharp, dangerous. "But I was hoping you'd come."
Something about the way he said it made her falter. Against her better judgment, she followed him into the café.
Inside, the air smelled of roasted beans and cinnamon. They found a corner table, half hidden by potted plants. Serena wrapped her hands around her cup, trying to focus on the steam instead of the man across from her.
"You knew my father," she said finally, her voice steady despite the tremor in her chest.
Dante's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "I told you—he was a man of honor."
"That's not enough." Her eyes narrowed. "What were you to him?"
He leaned back in his chair, the picture of ease, but his gaze was sharp. "A business associate."
Serena's stomach sank. "Business? What kind of business?"
For a fraction of a second, something flickered across his face—hesitation, a shadow. Then it was gone, replaced by that smooth, unreadable mask.
"Import and export," he said easily. "Harmless, really. Your father helped me with logistics, once or twice."
She frowned. "Import and export."
"It's dull, I promise," he said, a trace of a smile curling his lips. "Not the kind of thing you'd want to hear about."
But Serena wasn't convinced. Something about the way he said it, too quick, too rehearsed, made her stomach knot.
"Why are you really here?" she asked.
Dante's gaze softened slightly, though it still carried the weight of iron. "Because your father mattered to me. And because you matter now."
Her breath caught. He said it so plainly, without hesitation, as if it were the most obvious truth in the world.
But Vale's letter echoed in her mind. Learn the difference. It may save you one day.
They left the café together, the city buzzing around them. Serena hugged her arms to her chest, trying to process the collision of grief, suspicion, and something far more dangerous blooming inside her whenever Dante was near.
As they walked, their shoulders brushed. Once. Twice. Each time, her pulse stumbled.
"You shouldn't follow me," she muttered.
"I don't follow," he said smoothly. "I walk beside."
Her lips parted, but she couldn't find a response.
At the corner, they paused. He looked down at her, his expression unreadable. "One day, Serena, you'll stop asking why I'm here and start asking what you'd do without me."
And with that, he slipped into his car, the door closing with a decisive thud. The vehicle glided away, leaving Serena on the sidewalk, her heart pounding so loudly she could barely hear the traffic around her.
She hated him. She distrusted him.
And yet she couldn't deny the magnetic pull that tethered her to him, stronger with every encounter.