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Chapter 23

The evening air in Florence carried a light chill as Solo adjusted her dress in front of the mirror. The upcoming House of Ricci event loomed large in her mind, but her thoughts were elsewhere—in the email she had received about the impending arrival of an investor from New York. It gnawed at her, a creeping sense of unease that she couldn’t shake.

"New York," she whispered, her knuckles turning white as she tightened her grip on the vanity chair. Even after all this time, the city's name was a minefield of memories—too many remnants of her life with Dominic. Florence was supposed to be her fresh start, but the past always sneaked back when she least expected it.

As Solo stepped out onto her balcony, the sounds of Florence at night enveloped her. The distant hum of Vespas, the laughter from nearby cafes, and the smell of fresh pasta wafting through the air should have brought her peace. But tonight, it only served as a reminder of how far she had come and how fragile her new life was.
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