Her husband was assassinated in broad daylight, in front of everyone.
In the heart of the capital, under the eyes of an empire that claimed to be a protector.
The execution was swift, almost silent.
Officially, it was called an accident.
They spoke of betrayal, of necessity.
She said nothing.
She cried. For days. For weeks.
Then one detail caught her eye: a poorly placed lie, an inconsistency that no one else noticed.
She began to investigate, and the more she dug, the more the world she knew started to crack.
It was not an accident. It was not a mistake.
Her husband had not been killed by chance.
The day she discovered the true reason behind his death…
and the names of those who had given the order…
she did not scream, she did not shout.
She went to his grave, knelt in silence, and whispered:
“Sorry, darling… but I don’t think I’ll behave in your absence.”

The first eight chapters will be narrated in the first person singular for greater impact; otherwise, the narration will revert to the third person. 


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