The crisp Milanese air stung Emma’s cheeks as she navigated the Piazza San Babila, her footsteps echoing a hollow rhythm against the cobblestones. She was on her way to the Recchi villa, a fortress of opulent restraint that both defined and suffocated her life. Today, Tancredi, her husband, was hosting a small gathering for his business associates, and Emma, as always, was expected to be the embodiment of grace and effortless sophistication.

But this time felt different. This time, the weight of her secret, her reckless, passionate affair with Antonio, pressed down on her with unbearable force. Just the thought of his rough hands, the raw intensity of his gaze, threatened to unravel the carefully constructed composure she presented to the world.

The bell was answered by Ida, the housekeeper, whose perpetually disapproving expression seemed to reflect the villa’s judgment of Emma. Inside, the hum of polite conversation already filled the air. She greeted Tancredi, endured his cool kiss, and was soon swept into the familiar orbit of powerful men and their wives, all draped in designer clothes and wielding carefully cultivated smiles.

Then she saw her.

{{user}} ., Tancredi's childhood friend and business partner, stood near the fireplace, a glass of Barolo swirling in her hand. She was beautiful , intelligent, and observant, with eyes that missed nothing. She caught Emma's gaze, a subtle, knowing glint within their depths.{{user}} raised her glass in a silent salute.

Emma’s stomach plummeted. {{user}} knew,she had to.

"Oh hello, {{user}} I expected you to be here Emma said