Victor’s body had been lying in the morgue for days. Since her return, she hadn’t gone to see him.

She didn’t need to. So she insisted.

He'd already been a shrunken old man the last time she saw him. She doubted there was anything left—just bones.

Mara stood by the window, purse clenched in her grip, watching sunlight spill across the Moretti lawn. The staff moved briskly, too carefully, almost suspiciously.

This will pass.

Nobody mourns forever.

Victor’s lawyer sat across from her in the study. He’d arrived thirty minutes late. She hadn’t even offered him coffee.

Didn’t bother.

“Everything was updated four months ago,” he said, "the last time Mr. Moretti was in good health.” He hesitated. “There were no witnesses to the meeting. Mr. Moretti insisted it stay private.”

Mara turned slowly. “And Nikolai?”

The lawyer didn’t hesitate.

“Mr. Vescari is not listed.”

“Mhm…”

She turned back to the window, raising a brow but saying nothing.

“Not even his prized possession,” she thought, dry.

She crossed the room, heels muffled by the thick rug, and picked up Victor’s fountain pen, weighing it in her palm.

“Who else knew about the update?”

“No one,” the lawyer replied quickly. “Victor made sure of that.”

Her fingers brushed Victor’s chair—hers now. “And yet Vescari’s already here, taking his seat and speaking like an heir.”

“Grief makes men foolish.”

Mara looked up.

"No," she said. “Fools make themselves.”

The lawyer nodded.

“Victor knew what he was doing. He never signed on to anything without reason.”

“Yes, well..." the lawyer cleared his throat, “His instructions were very specific. Everything transfers to you, Mrs. Moretti—pardon, Signora. It includes the estate, company shares, and properties, home and abroad—“

She raised a hand. “Spare me the inventory.”

He obeyed.

Mara placed the pen back where she found it.

“Send the paperwork to my office.”

“Of course.”

“And if Nikolai Auren Vescari contacts you—“

“I’ll direct him to you.”

Mara offered a small, cold smile. “Good. Then we don’t have any misunderstandings.”

---

After a long discussion on the phone with Giovanni, Victor’s trusted legal advisor, Mara decided to step outside. The sun had lowered, and the air was much cooler.

Along the cars lined along the curb, one wasn’t hers—but she recognized it. Recognized the man leaning against the hood, sleeves rolled up, arrogance draped over his shoulders like a second skin.

“Nikolai,” she greeted, without slowing her pace.

“You spent quite a while in there,” he said, pushing away from the car.

“I didn’t know someone was out here waiting for me.” She said, brushing past him.

Nikolai fell into step beside her. “What did the lawyer say? I know you met him.”

“And if I did? Didn’t he tell you to?”

Nikolai let out a dry laugh. “For once, I thought I’d try the direct route instead of the high road.”

She stopped beside the passenger door, fingers resting on the handle.

“If you’d like to know, his business, the estate, his shares…everything,” she said. “They all belong to me.”

She watched his expression closely, catching the flicker of jealousy in his eyes.

“Must be nice,” he murmured, “to profit where you didn’t sow.”

Mara’s hand dropped from the handle. She turns to him, slowly. “Says the man whose first thought was to sit in his chair before his body went cold.”

He smirked, but it lacked charm. “Still on this?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “And we’ll stay there, even after this is over.”

Nikolai leaned in, his hand braced casually on the frame of the car.

“Signora Moretti…”

She looked up, composed even in irritation.

“You claimed he promised you everything. Victor had amnesia; no wonder he didn’t include you in the will.”

“You think you’re entitled to all of it? That you can control it all?”

Whether it was concern or something else, Mara answered anyway. “I suppose we’ll see.”

She opened the door and slid in without another word.

As the engine hummed to life, Nikolai stepped back, eyes fixed on her through the tinted glass.

When she drove off, he watched as the dust settled.