"Tell me you ditched us last night to go sleep with Enoro," Andy bursts into my room, her energy loud and clear.

"Do I look like I had sex ?" I grumble, still frustrated, wrapped in my evening dress and buried under my blankets.

"No, not really. You look miserable. Get in the shower, shipwreck, and go sort things out with him. I want you back with a smile on your face, or by the end of the day, he'll be saying goodbye to his future children." Andy retorts, making a scissor motion with her fingers, her eyes wide with mock-crazed enthusiasm.

I groan, but I know there's no avoiding it. The invigorating shower Andy has waiting for me looms at the end of her countdown. Following her advice, I dress like a femme fatale, ready, as she put it, "to give him such a hard-on that his balls will beg for release on the spot."

Yet, all the confidence I built up evaporates with each step I take toward Enoro's office. My heart pounds, nearly in my throat, as I enter without knocking.

"Good morning, Enoro," I greet him.

"Miss Torre. Good morning." His eyes don't even lift from his screen.

Annoyed by his lack of respect, I slam the door behind me. It works—he finally looks up at me. I ignore the hitch in my heartbeat when our eyes meet, too angry to let my attraction to him make me vulnerable.

"I'll be brief, for the few seconds I actually have your attention," I begin, stepping closer. "I won't insult us by discussing last night, knowing full well it was a mistake. But if you plan on continuing to disrespect me like you did, I'll back out and find another label."

I barely get the words out before he cuts in.

"Agreed. Last night's incident should never have happened. But setting that aside, I've never disrespected you on a professional level. And before you interrupt me—doubting you is not disrespect; it's simply a way to push you out of your comfort zone. So, if my working methods don't suit you, feel free to leave. The door is wide open. Despite your great potential, I won't hold you back, because I don't need you, whereas you need me." He delivers this with his usual arrogance, his gaze unwavering.

As much as it pains me to admit it, he's right. I do need him. No other label would take me, even if the scandal fades one day.

"Get the contract; I'll sign it."

Without even looking away from his computer, he responds in the most detached tone:

"It's not ready yet. Come back tomorrow, and you can sign it with my secretary. No need for us to endure each other's presence again. From now on, it's Mr. Dottrece—my first name is reserved for those close to me." His voice is cold and final.

"I had no intention of calling you by it," I retort, heading for the door. "I've got enough crap to clean up from my dog."

"Did you just disrespect me, or am I imagining things ?" he asks, furious.

"Me ? Never. I was just pushing you out of your comfort zone," I reply calmly, a smirk tugging at my lips before I slam the door behind me.

Fuming and more frustrated than ever, I leave the building, cursing him for his arrogance and the magnetic pull I can't seem to control. Throughout our encounter, I had only one overwhelming desire: to throw myself at him and lose myself entirely in him. I hate myself for it and hate him for making me feel so vulnerable. I need to get a grip and stay on course without faltering.

The next day, as planned, I return to the label to sign the contract with the secretary. The brief fear that it might not be ready quickly fades when she hands it to me with a broad smile.

A note accompanies the file:

"Let's hope your impetuosity doesn't lead to your downfall. Mr. Dottrece."

I crumple the paper in my hand, mentally cursing him in every way imaginable. Once the contract is signed with my finest flourish, I leave without looking back.

With a brisk pace, I head toward my motorcycle when my phone rings. I frown at the unknown number displayed but answer anyway.

"Madame Madini ? This is Maître Filecci. Andrea contacted me to represent you. Would you be available for a potential meeting ?"

"Oh, nice to meet you ! Yes, of course, I'm available right now. I'm in town; we could meet at my place in about twenty minutes, enough time for me to get home."

"No need. I'm also in town. I'll send you the address of my office. See you shortly."

Before I can respond, she hangs up. Armed with the address, I turn on my heel and head toward her office.

I take the left fork where Enoro's office is located and walk a few more meters until I find my lawyer's office. I enter, climb the stairs, and open the designated door.

"You must be Madame Madini," a warm voice greets me.

"Indeed," I smile at the secretary, whose head barely peeks over the imposing desk.

"Right this way, please."

I follow her to a door, which she knocks on before entering.

"Maître Filecci ? Here's your client, Madame Madini."

"Thank you, Giuletta."

Disappearing behind the carefully closed door, I'm left alone with my lawyer.

"May, please come in and take a seat," she invites me with her warm tone, emphasized by her radiant smile.

I pause, recognizing those eyes. Her hair may have turned autumnal, but her eyes remain the same hazel that once sparked my jealousy. The same jealousy I feel now, except this time, it's not a projection on a warehouse wall but a real person.

I push aside memories of that painful time and focus on my situation. Whether she was one of Ezio's former flings or not, she's the one who's going to defend me in this case.

Nothing can touch you, May. You've been through too much to let some ex destabilize you.

Sitting at the table across from her, I maintain a composed expression, waiting for her to continue.

"Given the circumstances, I'd prefer we keep this less formal and more friendly. Oh, before I forget, this is for you. It arrived this morning," she says, handing me a white envelope.

Frowning, I take it and flip it over, but there's no sender.

"Let's get started. I'd like you to give me your version of events, please," she asks, arming herself with a notepad and pen to take notes.

Seeing my hesitation, she backtracks and offers a reassuring smile.

"Sorry, I forgot it's our first meeting. I worked for Ezio for so long that it feels like I've known you just as long. I'm Delia, and as I just mentioned, I worked with your late husband for many years. I'm well aware of the shadows that darken the Madini name, and I ask that you speak without reservation. You can trust me completely. Andrea contacted me because he knows I'm the best person to help you and get you out of this mess."

I avert my gaze, focusing on my bare left ring finger, which I massage with my thumb.

Why did you have to sleep with all of Sicily ?

"I can barely imagine what you've been through—"

"Let's stick to the case, shall we ?" I cut her off with a polite smile.

She nods and returns the gesture before continuing:

"Once again, speak freely. Can you walk me through your arrival at the manor ?"

I recount the discovery of the crime scene, the reason for my presence, my meeting with Isabella, and finally, my suspicions. Her manicured fingers fly over the notepad, capturing every detail with impressive speed.

"I believe she set me up. She killed the staff before coming to see me. She knew I'd be worried about Yolanda. And if I hadn't gone there, she still had my gun to tie me to the murders. She orchestrated everything."

"Thank you for your honesty. Let's focus on the facts. The court won't care about suspicions—facts are all that matters. Let's go back a bit. You mentioned your gun was seized a few months ago ?"

"Yes, during a traffic stop for speeding. The officer saw it and took me to the station for questioning. At that point, the gun was bagged and supposed to be sealed. I never got it back."

"Okay. If the officer did his job properly, there should be a record of your visit. Plus, police stations have cameras. We should be able to prove you didn't leave with it. Do you still have contact with the officer who arrested you ?"

"Yes."

"We need to ensure they don't turn that relationship against you. Whether corrupt or not, that officer must be an asset, not a liability. I'd like to speak with him, as I think he'll become a witness. We'll come back to that later, but I need some other information. To reach the manor, do you have to take a toll road?"

"Yes, there's only one way there, via the E45. I went through two tolls."

"Great, we should be able to request the surveillance footage and prove it doesn't match the time of the crime."

"Do you know more about that ?"

"Yes, the autopsies are complete. The victims are believed to have died around 3:40 PM, all killed by a bullet from your gun."

The information clashes in my mind, creating a whirlwind of thoughts. My fingers absently toy with Ezio's ring around my neck as my mind races through every possible scenario, piecing together the fragments of data. With a blink, I manage to calm the storm by focusing on one single truth.

I am not guilty. We will find a way to clear my name.