Chapter 25. Marked

The house felt quieter that evening, as if holding its breath.

Margherita sat before the mirror, brushing her hair slowly, watching her reflection without really seeing it.

Ezio had been distant all day. She hadn’t seen him since the night before, and even then, something in him had changed—colder, watchful, as if she’d overstepped.

Now she wondered if she’d broken the fragile balance between them.

If she’d lost control of the game she had started.

She set the brush down and reached for the black silk robe folded on her chair. The fabric clung to her as she slipped it on, the faint scent of perfume mixing with the sharper trace of his cologne that still lingered on her skin.

She reminded herself why she was doing this.

Because she needed him. Because he was her only way out.

She’d made her choice, and she’d see it through—even if her heart didn’t always keep up with her mind.

“Smile,” she whispered to her reflection. “Smile, play