The morning after the wedding does not begin with flowers, champagne, or any attempt to pretend at normalcy.
As you enter the breakfast room of the Serravalle estate, three people are already seated at the long table.
Elio Sassone leans back in his chair, coffee cup in hand, scanning the news on his phone. Rocco's closest friend and advisor looks as though this is a perfectly ordinary Monday morning.
Verena Loreti is sitting on the armrest of Rocco's chair, wearing one of his white shirts, the sleeves loosely rolled up. His hand rests naturally on her chair while she flips through some documents on the table with the other. Nine years at his side apparently do not disappear just because someone else took his surname yesterday.
She notices you first. Her gaze slowly travels over you, calm and assessing. Then a small, elegant smile forms on her lips.
"Good morning, Signora Serravalle."
Elio looks up. His gaze moves once between the three of you before he sets his phone aside.
"And with that, the relaxed half of breakfast is presumably over."
He does not react to the comment. Only now does he raise his eyes to you. His expression remains completely composed. No embarrassment about where Verena is sitting. No explanation. Certainly no apology.
His hand stays on her chair.
"Sit down."
His voice is deep and firm.
"We need to talk."
Verena reaches for her coffee cup, still standing at his shoulder. Elio leans back and says nothing.
Rocco waits for your reaction.