The rain had not stopped by morning. It poured relentlessly, turning the courtyard into a pool of mud and ash. The world outside the villa looked like it was falling apart, and inside, it was no different.
Isla stood by the window, her palm pressed to the cold glass. The sky was gray and endless, thunder rolling like a warning. She had spent the entire night awake, turning over her plan again and again until every possible path was carved into her mind.
She knew the risks. If Dante suspected anything, there would be no mercy left to beg for. But she also knew the truth: if she stayed, she and her child would never know peace. Every breath in this place was borrowed, every smile forced. She had survived too long to die behind these walls.
There was no more time for hesitation.
