The first morning of spring arrived bright and golden over Milan.

Elena stood on the upper walkway of the Rossi production plant, watching the looms spin new fabric for the first time in almost a year. Workers moved about below her, laughter and chatter filling the air like the threads they created.

For months, the factory had been silent, its once-bustling halls reduced to whispers of a fallen empire. Now, it pulsed with life again, a song of resilience and rebirth.

Sofia stood next to her, ...