Chapter 170

Silvia “This room… was it made for me?"The words slipped out before I could stop them—soft, shaky, barely more than a breath. Across the room, Alpha Enzo adjusted the mask covering the lower half of his face. His eyes—tired, worn—creased with something that hit harder than I expected. Sadness. Regret. Maybe both. He gave a slow nod. “For you and Antonella," he said. “Your mom… she had a thing for cozy, beautiful spaces. Grew up with nothing and swore her daughter would have everything she didn’t." Something cracked in my chest, sharp and sudden—like grief for a ghost I’d never met. I ran my fingers along the velvet cushions of the couch, soft as clouds and absurdly pink. The kind of color that said fairy tale, not war zone. I tried to picture her—my mother—standing here once, choosing paint swatches and curtain lace, imagining her daughter twirling across the rug in sparkly shoes and a tutu. And instead, the room sat untouched for twenty-two years. An entire childhood preserved in a bu