Vittorio paused at the entrance of the room, his eyes meeting the figure of Eleonora seated on his bed, dressed in a red nightgown that accentuated her blonde beauty, her hair cascading down her shoulders. It was a tempting sight, yet Vittorio's gaze remained unmoved, almost as if he were looking through her.

Ignoring his wife, he crossed the room and opened the closet doors. Removing his tie was the first gesture of indifference, as if the woman on the bed were an invisible shadow. ...