https://theoviebooks.wordpress.com/ The town of Valeroux could have been plucked straight from a postcard. A picturesque patchwork of terracotta rooftops, curling vines, and cobblestone streets where the only sounds were the occasional clip-clop of a horse-drawn carriage or the clink of wine glasses raised in quiet toasts. But beneath its sun-dappled exterior, there was something far darker, a quiet tension that hung in the air like the scent of overripe grapes. As evening stretched over the