Chapter 44: Whispers and Dreams 

*Dante*

As I stepped into the familiar confines of my penthouse, I was struck by a sense of wrongness, of displacement that I couldn't quite shake. Everything looked the same–the sleek, modern furnishings, the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline.

But as I moved through the rooms, my eyes fell on objects that seemed out of place, that didn't fit with the carefully curated image I had cultivated over the years.

A woman's sweater, draped carelessly over the back of a chair. A half-empty bottle of perfume on the bathroom counter, the scent achingly familiar and yet wholly foreign all at once.

And then, on the nightstand beside my bed, a small, silver-framed photograph that made my heart stutter in my chest.