Thirty days.

Alessia Salvatore woke up with the increasingly suffocating realization that each passing day was a countdown to something she could not stop. Her marriage to Leonardo Vieri was no mere business deal. It was a slow self-destruction, a living proof that even someone like her—who had spent her life fighting the system—could not win.

Leonardo, on the other hand, faced her with a smile that was too calm for a situation of this magnitude. He showed no anger, no resistance, no hatred like Alessia felt.

And that bothered her.

On the cold night, they stood outside the family meeting hall, away from the spotlight and the voices of other people's interests.

“You're not even angry?” Alessia asked, her voice more like a demand than a question.

Leonardo stared at her for a long moment, before finally answering. “What's the point of being angry? We knew this would happen a long time ago.”

Alessia gave a short, cold laugh. “You take this for granted, because you know you always find a way to win. But this time?” He glared at her. “You can’t win, Vieri. We were defeated from the start.”

Leonardo shrugged, as if his statement meant little. “Losing doesn’t mean being destroyed.”

Alessia exhaled, frustrated. “Do you really believe that?”

Leonardo moved a little closer, enough for Alessia to feel suffocated by his presence. His eyes were dark—not with anger, but something harder to explain. “I believe that we can always destroy something before it destroys us.”

Silence.

In thirty days, they would stand at the altar. The world believed they had submitted. But for them, this was not the end—it was the beginning of a new game, and in this game, no one knew who would survive to the end.