Vera

The estate did not sleep.

Neither did she.

Vera sat in the command room as dawn bled slowly into the Tuscan hills, the sky bruised purple and gold. Screens glowed softly around her—security feeds, financial movements, encrypted communications—each one a pulse of the empire she now helped command.

Seven days.

Antonio had framed it like mercy.

Vera recognized it for what it truly was: arrogance.

She wrapped her fingers around her coffee mug, long since cold, and allowed herself ...