Enrico stepped into his study to find Alberto, Alma, and Isabella already waiting patiently for him. The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the furniture, adding to the tension that thickened the air. Alberto stood by the door, his posture rigid, while Alma stood next to him visibly tense. Isabella stood near the large window, her arms crossed, though her face betrayed concern.
Enrico’s gaze swept over them, landing on Alma for a fraction of a second longer than necessary before shifting to Isabella. He walked to his seat behind the large mahogany desk, his presence commanding, the weight of authority settling around him. He sat down, his hands resting on the armrests, and locked eyes with Isabella, who, though wary, held his gaze.
Without a word, he tapped his lap lightly,
