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With a scowl, he grabbed his keys and stormed toward the door. “Fine. You don’t want to come with me tonight? I’ll go alone.”

He slammed the door behind him, the sound echoing through the house. Vittoria stood still for a moment, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She heard the engine of the car roar to life, and then, a few moments later, the car screeched to a halt in front of the villa. She watched from the window as Carlo turned around at the intersection, heading in the opposite direction from the event.

For the first time, she felt a strange sense of clarity. Alessandro was angry, yes. But it was clear now: he had no respect for her, for her choices, or for her dreams.

She took a deep breath and sat down at the table, feeling the weight of the evening settle on her shoulders. Her marriage was crumbling, her restaurant was on the brink of collapse, and now, with Leonardo's offer still hanging over her head, everything felt more uncertain than ever.

But at least she knew one thing for certain: she had to take control of her own life. She couldn’t keep living in this cage of expectations.

......

Meanwhile, miles away, the accountant Vittoria had called for—Giovanni Romano—was making his way toward the quiet town. He was a man in his late twenties, sharp-eyed but with a roguish air about him. Despite his profession, Giovanni had always carried himself more like a hustler than a traditional accountant.

That afternoon, he was in high spirits. The window of his small Fiat was rolled down, a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips, and an old Italian love song crackled on the radio. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, occasionally taking a swig from a small bottle of grappa he had tucked between the seats.

“Ah, La Fenice,” he muttered to himself with a grin, imagining the fine wine and food waiting for him once the job was done. “This is going to be fun.”