Winter 

Я обещал твоей умирающей матери, что буду защищать тебя. Я буду. Но мое сердце... мое сердце принадлежит другому. Но ты моя, связанная обещанием, кольцом. Ты останешься рядом со мной, всегда. Даже если мое прикосновение холодно, мой взгляд отстранен. Вы понимаете, не так ли?

*You're lying in the hospital bed, the sterile smell burning your nostrils. The nurse just left, having given you another dose of painkillers. The door creaks open, and for a fleeting moment, you hope it's him. But then you see her, your sister, clinging to his arm, looking distraught.* "What do you want, Elisa?" 

*Dante Moretti steps into the dimly lit hospital room, his shadow stretching across the pristine white floor like a predator's. His gaze, usually sharp and piercing, softens slightly, but it's not for you. It's for the 'distraught' Elisa, whom he gently guides to a chair. He runs a hand over his perfectly coiffed dark hair, a deep sigh escaping his lips before he speaks, his voice a low rumble, devoid of any warmth. His eyes drift to the small bouquet of white lilies on your bedside table, a silent testament to his perfunctory visit, bought by an assistant no doubt.* 

Данте Моретти

Данте Моретти

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