The sun slowly set over the beautiful archipelago of Ragunna City, its golden rays casting long, rippling reflections upon the canals that carved through the metropolis like veins of liquid fire. The sky, once a soft blue, was now ablaze with hues of crimson and gold, mirroring the city's bustling energy as the day drew to a close. High above, seabirds circled in the cooling breeze, their calls blending into the symphony of murmuring crowds and distant ship horns echoing from the port. The streets of Ragunna pulsed with life—traders securing last-minute deals, couriers darting between bridges, and aristocrats cloaked in silken robes stepping into their gondolas, their voices trailing off into the night.

In front of the Averardo Bank, a towering structure of marble and iron, Zani stood motionless for a moment, her crimson eyes reflecting the flickering lanterns of the plaza. Her sharp, yet tired gaze flicked over the streets, cataloging every subtle movement out of habit. Even now, as her long-awaited vacation officially began, the instincts drilled into her through years of service refused to fade. With a small sigh, she turned back to her holopad, her gloved fingers swiftly navigating through the last security protocols. A smirk ghosted across her lips as she reviewed the final section of her notes.

"That should do it... A 12-point contingency plan, covering every possible scenario my substitute might face. Seven paragraphs per point just to be thorough. That should keep things from turning into a shitstorm while I'm gone." Despite her words, exhaustion clung to her voice. The weight of sleepless nights, arguments with her boss for vacations, endless negotiations, and the ever-present paranoia of working under the Montelli had carved itself into her bones. But now, for the first time in years, she had something rare: time. Six weeks of it. A luxury she had nearly forgotten how to enjoy.

The heavy iron doors of the bank swung open behind her, the motion causing the gas-lit sconces to flicker. From within the dimly lit interior, Patrick emerged, the polished shine of his shoes clicking against the stone steps. His raven-black hair was neatly combed, his tuxedo immaculate—a stark contrast to Zani's slightly disheveled yet effortlessly commanding presence.

"Miss Zani," he greeted with an amused smile, his sharp green eyes flicking to the holopad in her hands. "Still here? Let me guess... You're finalizing your substitute’s task list, aren't you?" He shook his head with a chuckle before crossing his arms. "Even on your last day, you're making more work for yourself than necessary."

Zani let out a quiet huff, finally locking the holopad and passing it over to him. "You know me, Patrick. Whether it's work or my personal life, I don’t half-ass things." As she handed him the device, the silver band on her finger caught the plaza's light, its smooth surface glinting—a subtle but unmistakable symbol of the one thing she treasured beyond duty, beyond power, beyond all else: her beloved husband. "But enough about work. I’m getting out of here before the director finds a reason to chain me to my desk again."

Zani didn’t turn back, but she lifted a gloved hand in a casual wave before disappearing into the crowd. The streets of Ragunna were alive with energy—merchants haggling, street performers weaving illusions of light, and the constant ebb and flow of people moving between districts. The towering structures of Rinascita rose in the distance, their silhouettes standing proud against the twilight sky. It was a city of gods and mortals, of history and secrets buried beneath layers of progress and corruption. And for the first time in years, none of it was her concern.

"Six whole weeks and I nearly lose my job for it..." she murmured, stretching her arms above her head as she weaved through the crowd. "So much time, and I’ll make damn good use of it. Sleeping in, drinking the good wine, and—" Her thoughts drifted to her husband, and a slow, genuine smile curved her lips. "And, of course, spending every second I can with my love." Even if she didn’t show it outwardly, inside, excitement pulsed through her veins like a wildfire. A well-earned rest awaited her. And, more importantly, so did he.

The moment Zani stepped through the front door, a familiar warmth washed over her. This place—hers and his—held countless memories, each one woven into the very fabric of their home. Even now, she could picture them: quiet evenings spent by the fireplace, lazy mornings on the veranda, and, of course, nights far wilder than she’d ever admit out loud. Not that she minded. "Darling, are you home?" She set her keys down in the small ceramic bowl atop the entryway console, the soft clink echoing in the quiet space. With steady steps, she made her way toward the living room, glancing around as if expecting to see a familiar figure waiting for her. "Darling?"

Silence.

She tilted her head slightly before rolling a shoulder in an easy shrug. "Hm... Looks like I made it home first today. Well, no complaints there." Slipping into the bedroom, she wasted no time peeling off her work attire—finally free from the constraints of stiff fabric and formality. The black tie came off first, followed by the buttoned-up shirt, then the perfectly fitted pants, each article of clothing tossed aside with little care. In their place, she pulled on one of her favorite oversized sweaters—soft, warm, and large enough to swallow her whole frame. The sleeves hung past her fingers as she stretched, letting out a pleased hum before flopping onto their shared bed. "Finally," she muttered, sinking into the mattress, cocooning herself beneath the blankets.

She read for only a few minutes before the exhaustion finally caught up to her. Her body, worn from the endless days of duty, gave in with ease. The book slipped from her grasp, coming to rest against her stomach as her breaths evened out. The dim light of the bedside lamp cast soft shadows across her peaceful expression, her horns barely visible beneath the curtain of white hair sprawled across the pillow.

She didn’t stir when the front door creaked open. Didn’t react to the quiet sound of footsteps crossing the threshold. Didn’t notice the presence that had finally returned home. Him.

Instead, she slept on, lost in dreams of the days ahead—days where she could finally rest, finally breathe, finally spend every moment wrapped in the arms of the one she loved.

Suddenly she stirred, her eyes opening instantly as she processed the information she'd learned earlier that day. She got off the bed and stormed toward her husband, grabbing his shoulder to shake him.

"Tell me... who is this new secretary you hired?" she asked, her eyes dark and possessive as she stared into his soul. "I heard that she is a flirty whore! And I won't let her take you away from me." She cupped his cheek possessively and searched his eyes for the truth. "He is mine and mine alone as I am his and his only."