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James glanced around again, his expression tightening. “Or there’s another way out of this room we haven’t seen yet.”

Marco looked uncertain. “We didn’t find any other exits from this room—just the main door and the window.”

James nodded slowly, his gaze lingering on the window. “Interesting,” he murmured. Then he turned back to Marco. “Did you find the knife?” he asked, his tone sharp and focused. “And can you get me a detailed report on everything you’ve gathered so far? I want to go through it myself.”

Marco gave a curt nod. “Of course. I’ll have it sent to your hotel by this evening.”

James gave a short nod. “Thank you.”

With that, he and Alice stepped out of the bedroom and followed Marco down the stairs. The villa was quiet, its elegance shadowed by the grimness of what had occurred. As they reached the ground floor, they noticed a man sitting stiffly in one of the armchairs near the fireplace, his fingers laced tightly together, eyes staring into the hearth though no fire was lit.

Marco gestured subtly. “That’s Mr. Alessandro Mancini—Vittoria’s husband.”

James approached calmly, his voice composed but firm. “Mr. Mancini? I’m Detective James Taylor. This is my assistant, Alice. Mind if we ask you a few questions?”

Alessandro looked up, his face pale, eyes red-rimmed, and his posture stiff with a mixture of exhaustion and tension. He wiped a hand over his face before nodding slightly.

“Of course, Detective. I... I understand you need answers. Whatever I can do to help,” he replied, his voice hoarse, betraying the stress he was under.

James took a seat opposite him, maintaining a respectful distance. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Mancini. We just have a few questions that might help us understand what happened to your wife.”