The gunfire echoed through the estate like thunder. The air smelled of smoke and blood.
Alessia's father burst into her office, his expression a mix of fury and fear.
"Alessia! What have you done?" he barked. "How did you know about that contract? Who's feeding you information you shouldn't have?"
Alessia spun around, already slipping bullets into her gun. "Father, this isn't the time."
"It is the time!" he snapped. "Someone's manipulating you, Alessia! You've been distracted, smiling at your phone, acting like a stranger—"
She cut him off sharply, tone like ice. "I said not now."
The sound of fresh gunfire tore through the night, closer this time. Alessia moved toward the door, her weapon loaded and ready. She brushed past her father without another word.
"Where are you going?"
"To end this," she said simply, her voice low, determined.
Outside, chaos reigned. Men shouted orders, bullets cut through the air. The Romano guards were holding the line, but just barely. Alessia strode through it all, unflinching — the storm in her eyes deadlier than the one outside.
And then she saw him.
Lorenzo De Luca.
Standing amid the wreckage, blood staining his arm, gun lowered but eyes fixed on her. Calm. Unmoving. As if he had been waiting for her.
Alessia's breath caught, anger flashing through her veins. "You should've stayed out of my family's business, Lorenzo."
Her gun rose before the words even finished leaving her lips. A single shot cracked the air. He staggered, grabbing his arm where the bullet had hit — but he didn't fall. He didn't even flinch.
He just looked at her.
There was something in his gaze — not hatred, not pain, but something else entirely. Something that made her heartbeat stumble for a second too long.
She cocked her gun again, ready to fire. But then… she froze.
A thin strip of white fabric wrapped around his wrist — faintly dirty, but unmistakable. The same white band that had been tied around the flowers and the cage of the little white dog left for her weeks ago.
Her heart skipped. Her mind blurred.
"Wait…" she whispered, lowering her weapon slightly, her eyes narrowing as realization began to claw its way into her chest.
Before she could speak, a guard rushed toward her. "Ma'am! We need to go now! We can't hold them any longer — your father's waiting!"
Alessia hesitated. Her gaze flickered between Lorenzo and her men.
He was still standing there, bleeding, silent, watching her with that same unreadable calm — as if he already knew what she was thinking.
Her chest tightened. She took one last step toward him, searching his face for answers she wasn't ready to find.
Then she turned away.
"Fall back!" she shouted to her men. "Get everyone out — now!"
As they dragged her into the waiting car, Alessia glanced back through the window one last time.
Lorenzo was still there — standing in the smoke, blood running down his arm, and that white band glowing faintly in the firelight.
And as the car sped away, she couldn't tell what haunted her more — that she had shot him… or that deep down, she wasn't sure she wanted him dead.