Luca’s pov

I Despite Lia moving about the kitchen and Dante walking back and forth in the living room, an unshakeable tension lingered in the air. It was the sort of silence that fell once something unchangeable had taken place. Luca was seated at the dining table, gazing at his hands. His hands were balled into fists, with his nails digging into his palms. He didn't even notice it. Gradually, he compelled his fingers to relax, yet the burden in his chest remained unchanged. Elena was ...