Valentina's POV
The apartment is quiet in the way it only is when Massimo isn't in it.
He is at a family dinner, a pre-wedding thing, men and wine and the particular ritual of a family closing ranks before a public occasion. I was not invited.
The bed is mine tonight.
I cannot sleep in it.
I sit at the kitchen table with my phone and the notepad closed and the empty vase on the counter and I wait for Helen to call.
She calls at eleven.
"Walk me through it," she says. No preamble.
"Wire placement, centre chest. Same adhesive protocol. I check it twice before I go in."
"Exit."
"Staff corridor, east side. Feeds to the service road. I don't use the main entrance at any point, not arriving, not leaving."
"Signal to Moretti."
"Three words. Package is confirmed. Single text. The number stops existing after it's received."
"And if something goes wrong before the signal."
"I improvise and I get out. In that order."
A pause.
