His greatest love.

Chapter 49.

The morning sunlight spilled gently across the balcony, bathing Diana in a soft golden hue. She sat curled up in the wicker chair, her baby nestled against her chest, the rhythmic rise and fall of the tiny body syncing with her own breathing. It was the kind of morning that should've brought peace.

But her mind refused to rest.

Even surrounded by beauty of the morning Diana's thoughts drifted stubbornly back to him. Giovanni. The man whose silence could stretch like a storm cloud across her day. He hadn't picked up a single call last night. She had watched the hours crawl past each one heavy with worry and a strange ache she hated to name.

When his message finally came, it was nearly dawn. Just a brief line, cold and distant, as if typed between other obligations.

She exhaled slowly, tracing a small circle on her baby's back. That familiar tightness in her chest returned but she refused to let it surface. She had no reason to be upset because if she was it meant that she was acknowledging that things had changed in regards to their little situationship.

The baby let out a soft whimper, breaking Diana's chain of thoughts. She looked down, smiling faintly as the little fingers curled against her shirt.

"Someone's hungry again," she murmured.

Before she could move, the sound of soft humming floated inside her room then footsteps, light and confident. A moment later, her cousin Leona appeared, a silk scarf holding her curls back and a mischievous grin on her face. The scent of freshly ground coffee clung to her.

"Well, look at you, sunshine," Camille  teased, stepping onto the balcony. "You've been up here so long the baby's probably developed a tan."

Diana chuckled, shaking her head. "Good morning to you too, Camille. I see sarcasm is on the breakfast menu."

Camille reached out her arms. "Hand her over before you burn in this morning sun. I swear, you two would make a perfect ad for serenity... except you look like you were deep in thought."

Diana hesitated but surrendered the baby with a sigh. "Long night."

"Uh-huh," Camille said knowingly as she rocked the infant with ease. "Am sure it's not my baby."

"No it wasn't."

Camille smiled faintly. "And I can't wait to hear all about it. Come on, let's get downstairs. I'm making something sinful today — truffle omelets, honey buttered croissants, and that mango compote you love. Am sure you can help."

"Do i have to?"

"You, my darling, must help because the baby is awake so we taking turns. Now move."

They went downstairs into the kitchen that was filled with the aroma of coffee.

Diana set the baby's bassinet near the wide glass wall that opened to the garden, where sunlight poured in gently. The dogs trotted in, tails wagging expectantly, noses already sniffing out the promise of food.

Camille tied her apron with a dramatic flourish. "Alright, sous-chef, grab a whisk. We're making magic."

"If I remember correctly you used to say I only stir for aesthetic purposes," Diana teased, pulling her hair into a bun.

"I stand corrected," Camille said, handing her a bowl, "you stir for morale support and aesthetics. Very important role."

They moved together easily — chopping, whisking, and laughing in between. Diana measured flour with precision, while Camille danced around her, adding spices with theatrical flair. The sizzle of butter hitting the pan filled the air, followed by the comforting crackle of bacon.