Chapter 17: Morning Silence
The soft hum of wind brushing through the tall windows stirred Janet awake. Her eyes blinked open slowly, meeting the dim shadows of the closet room she had collapsed in. Her head throbbed, and her lips stung with a dull ache. She sat up slowly, her body still wrapped in nothing but a white towel, her skin cold against the hard floor.
Confusion fluttered through her chest until it all came back like a crashing wave—the argument, the confession, the kiss, the bite. Her fingers instinctively brushed against her lips. She winced. The skin was torn. Dry blood clung to the edge of her mouth.
Turning her head, she saw it—the shattered mirror.
Pieces of broken glass lay scattered across the floor like frozen echoes of last night's chaos. The memory of Luca's bleeding hand, his screams, the raw desperation in his voice—it all made her stomach twist.
He hadn't come back.
Janet slowly got up, her legs shaky. She showered, dressed in a pale beige blouse and soft jeans, brushed her hair neatly, and forced herself to look composed. Emotionless. She needed to.
Descending the staircase, she caught the scent of fresh toast and eggs. She followed it into the dining room.
And there he was.
Luca sat at the far end of the long table, dressed in a crisp black shirt, his sleeves rolled up, glasses perched on his nose. He looked calm—too calm. A silver tablet was in his hand as he scanned through documents and tapped commands. Beside him, his breakfast sat half-eaten.
Janet hesitated.
But then, gathering herself, she walked forward and sat down right in front of him.
He didn't look up.
Not once.