The world smelled like smoke and salt.

The ocean waves clawed at the shore, dragging with them the last pieces of the life I once knew — a broken photograph, the burnt edge of a child’s shoe, and the blackened emblem of the Bellanti crest half buried in ash.

I didn’t cry anymore. Not because I didn’t want to, but because there was nothing left inside me to bleed.

Nicolas was gone. Vanessa too.

The explosion had ripped through the villa like God Himself had decided to erase our sins ...