Vera

There was a moment, just before everything truly broke, when the world felt deceptively still.

Vera stood at the wide arched window of the estate’s west wing, watching the Italian countryside stretch endlessly into the horizon. Olive trees swayed gently in the early morning breeze, their leaves catching the sun like silver coins. The sky was soft blue, innocent. Peaceful.

Too peaceful.

She had learned to distrust moments like this.

Behind her, the estate was waking—quiet footsteps ...