Chapter 7 - The Voice of Tomorrow
Six months later, the early autumn sun bathed the Moretti estate in a warm, golden radiance.
The gardens that had once been torn apart by gunfire and flashbangs were entirely restored, transformed into a sprawling sanctuary of blooming hydrangeas, deep green boxwood mazes, and stone pathways winding toward a newly rebuilt glass conservatory.
There were no guards pacing the lawn with visible weapons. The security remained, tighter and more sophisticated than ever, but it had faded back into the perimeter shadows, where it belonged. The fortress had finally become a home.
In the center of the conservatory, where the morning light poured through crystal-clear glass, sat a grand mahogany dining table.
At the head of the table sat Sophia.
She was dressed in a tailored forest-green silk dress, her dark hair falling in soft curls around her shoulders. Her face was full of color, her eyes bright and alive. In front of her sat a sketchpad, but she was not drawing.
She was reading aloud from a volume of Italian poetry, her voice melodic, rich, and confident.
*"...e quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle,"* Sophia finished, looking up with a radiant grin. *"And then we emerged to see the stars again."*
Across the table, Julianna applauded, setting her coffee cup down.
Julianna wore a cream cashmere sweater that accented the dazzling, four-carat emerald cut ring on the third finger of her left hand. Her skin was glowing, the faint, silver scar on her left bicep the only remaining testament to the night the ghosts of her past had tried to drag her under.
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"Your accent on *riveder* was perfect," Julianna praised, reaching across the table to squeeze Sophia's hand. "Six months ago, you were struggling with the alveolar trill on the *R*."
"That
