The storm outside had softened to a low rumble, but inside the Vitale mansion, tension hung heavier than thunder. Lorenzo stood by the window of his study, the faint glow of dawn spilling across his face. His jaw was tight, his thoughts restless.
"Boss," Matteo said quietly from the doorway. "You shouldn't have lied to her. About her father knowing she's here."
Lorenzo exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know, Matteo. But I had to. If she thought her father was worried sick, she'd try to run. And if she runs…" He looked out the window again, eyes sharp. "…they'll find her. And they'll kill her."
Matteo hesitated. "You really care for her, don't you?"
Lorenzo didn't answer immediately. His silence was enough. Finally, he spoke, voice low and sincere.
"She's strong, but not strong enough for what's coming. She fights like fire, but she doesn't know the kind of darkness that's waiting for her out there. Every queen needs a king for protection—even if she doesn't want one."
Matteo nodded. "What should I do while you're gone?"
"Keep her safe. No matter what happens," Lorenzo said firmly. "If I don't come back soon, you protect her with your life. You're the only person I trust with her."
When Matteo left, Lorenzo stood alone for a moment, closing his eyes. He could still hear her voice from last night — her anger, her pride, her confusion. He knew she hated him now. But someday, she'd understand.
At least, that's what he told himself.
He walked down the long hallway, stopping at her room. The door creaked open. Alessia was awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with her long hair falling across her shoulders. She looked up as he entered, her eyes sharp and unreadable.
"What do you want?" she asked coldly.
"I came to tell you I'll be gone for a while," he said evenly. "Don't leave this place. My men will guard you. If anything happens—"
She stood, cutting him off. "I don't care if you go and never return. It's none of my business."
Lorenzo smiled faintly, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of pain. "Are you sure, miss?" he asked quietly.
She didn't answer. Just folded her arms and looked away.
He took a step closer, his voice dropping softer. "You don't have to trust me. But don't trust your uncle either. And whatever happens—don't go outside alone."
Her brows furrowed slightly. "Why would you care what I do?"
He gave her a look she couldn't quite read — a mixture of warning and something almost… gentle. "Because not everyone wants you alive, Alessia."
And with that, he turned and left before she could say another word.
As the heavy doors closed behind him, Alessia stood frozen.
She wanted to feel angry. She wanted to hate him. But deep down, she couldn't deny the strange warmth she felt whenever he looked at her that way.
"No," she whispered to herself. "I can't feel this. Not for him."
Still, as she sat back down, her eyes lingered on the breakfast tray he had ordered for her. The food was cold now, but the flower resting beside it — a white one, her mother's favorite — was perfectly fresh.
And for reasons she couldn't explain… her heart ached.