The two women stared at each other across the firelight. Rocco retreated to the shadows, pouring himself an aged grappa.
“Truth or lie?” Rocco asked, his voice a low rumble.
“He’s watching us,” Linda whispered, her fingers trembling as she lifted a flute of prosecco. -Roccosiffredi- Linda Sweet- Alexis Brill - Roc...
Alexis Brill leaned forward, her silver necklace catching the firelight. “Truth. She’s terrified. But the lie is in the delivery. Her real truth? She’s terrified of herself.”
Linda’s breath hitched. Rocco smiled. “One point for Alexis.” The two women stared at each other across the firelight
Now it was Alexis’s turn. She stood, walked to the window, and spoke without turning around. “I have never loved anyone. Not once. Not even as a child.”
Outside, a storm began to break over the canals. Inside the Palazzo Siffredi, the only sound was the soft, inevitable click of the door as Rocco left them alone—two mirrors facing each other, forced to reflect nothing but the other’s truth. She’s terrified
The room went cold. Linda searched her face for a crack, a flicker of vulnerability. But there was none.
He turned to Alexis. “Your truth wasn’t the confession. Your truth was the armor you wore to deliver it. And Linda—your lie wasn’t about fear. It was about hope. You hope she doesn’t see you the way you see her.”
Linda thought of her own poetry—the messy, bleeding lines about heartbreak and longing. This woman’s confession was too perfect, too polished. “Lie,” Linda whispered. “That’s the lie. You’ve loved so much it broke you. That’s why you’re here. That’s why you’re so careful.”