POV: Emilia Conti
The first threat didn't come with a gun.
It came with flowers.
They were waiting on the kitchen counter when I returned to the penthouse—white lilies arranged neatly in a crystal vase I hadn't seen before. No card. No note. Just the faint, clean scent cutting through the sterile air.
I stopped short.
Lilies were funeral flowers.
I stood there for a long moment, staring at them, heart thudding slowly instead of racing. Fear, I'd learned, didn't always arrive loudly. Sometimes it settled in quietly, like something that already belonged.
"Those weren't here earlier," I said.
A voice answered immediately. "They were delivered ten minutes ago."
I turned toward the nearest camera. "By whom?"
A pause. Too long.
"An authorized courier."
"That's not an answer."
"They passed security clearance."
My stomach tightened. "Clearance from who?"
Another pause.
I reached out and touched one of the petals. Cool. Fresh. Real.
Someone had gotten close enough to send a message.
I backed away from the counter and headed for the adjacent suite. The door was still open. Alessio was inside, buttoning his jacket, his movements precise despite the stiffness he still hadn't fully shaken.
"There are flowers in the kitchen," I said.
He looked up instantly. "What kind?"
"Lilies."
His expression darkened.
"Did you order them?" I asked.
"No."
"Did anyone clear a delivery with you?"
"No."
That was all the confirmation I needed.
"They got through," I said quietly.
"Yes."
"And you're not surprised."
"No."
Anger flared. "Then why am I just finding out now?"
"Because panic helps no one," he replied calmly. "And because I needed to see how you'd react."
I stared at him. "You tested me with a threat?"
"I watched," he corrected. "There's a difference."
I laughed sharply. "You're unbelievable."
"And you're standing," he countered. "Which means they're still guessing."
I folded my arms tightly. "Guessing what?"
"How much you matter."
I shook my head. "You told me visibility would protect me."
"It does," he said. "But it also provokes."
"So I'm bait now?"
"Yes."
The word landed hard.
"You don't get to make that decision alone," I snapped.
"I already did," he replied. "When they came for you."
I took a slow breath, forcing myself not to shout. "Then tell me everything."
His gaze sharpened. "No."
"That's not acceptable."
"It's necessary."
"Why?" I demanded.
"Because fear spreads faster than bullets," he said. "And once you know what they're capable of, you won't sleep."
I met his stare. "I'm not sleeping anyway."
Something flickered across his face. Not guilt. Something closer to calculation shifting.
"You'll have additional protection," he said. "And limited access to shared spaces."
"So I'm being contained again."
"You're being prioritized."
I stepped closer. "Those aren't the same thing."
He didn't back away. "They are in my world."
We stood there, the space between us charged and taut.
"What do the flowers mean?" I asked quietly.
He hesitated just a fraction of a second.
"They mean someone knows your name," he said. "And wants me to know they know it too."
My stomach dropped. "How?"
"You were introduced publicly," he replied. "That creates ripples."
"I didn't agree to that introduction."
"You didn't refuse it either."
I opened my mouth, then closed it.
He wasn't wrong.
"And now?" I asked.
"Now we wait," he said. "And watch who moves next."
I turned away, pacing. "You're playing chess with my life."
"Yes."
"And if you lose?"
His voice dropped. "I don't lose."
The certainty in it was terrifying.
That night, I couldn't bring myself to go back to my suite. I stayed in the living room instead, sitting on the couch with my knees drawn up, staring at the city lights. Every shadow felt heavier now. Every sound is sharper.
At some point, Alessio joined me, sitting in the chair across from me. He didn't speak. Neither did I.
Hours passed like that.
Finally, I broke the silence. "Did you ever consider letting me disappear instead?"
He looked at me. "Disappear how?"
"New name. New city. No visibility."
"No," he said. "Because they would still look."
"And you think staying here is better?"
"Yes."
I swallowed. "Because?"
"Because I can control this ground."
"And me?"
A pause.
"You're not controllable," he said finally. "That's what makes you dangerous."
I let out a quiet breath. "That's the nicest thing you've said to me."
He didn't smile.
A soft chime sounded suddenly—one of the security alerts.
Alessio was on his feet instantly, moving toward the control room.
I followed.
One of the screens zoomed in on the service elevator. A man stood inside, head lowered, cap pulled low.
"That's not scheduled," I said.
"No," Alessio replied. "It's not."
"Is he armed?"
"Not visibly."
The elevator doors opened on the wrong floor.
Too close.
Alessio grabbed a gun from the drawer and handed it to one of the guards. "Lock down the west corridor."
Then he turned to me. "Stay here."
"I'm not—"
"Emilia," he said sharply. "This is not a debate."
I froze.
That was the first time he'd used my name like that.
I stayed where I was as the screens shifted, guards converging, tension coiling tighter with every second.
The man stepped out of the elevator.
He lifted his head.
And smiled directly at the camera.
At me.
My blood ran cold.
"He knows he's being watched," I whispered.
"Yes," Alessio said grimly.
"Then why isn't he running?"
"Because," Alessio replied, eyes hard, "he wants us to see him."
The feed cut abruptly to black.
Every screen followed.
One by one.
Silence slammed into the room.
The lights flickered.
Then I went out.
I gasped, heart pounding in the sudden darkness.
From somewhere close—too close—I heard a soft click.
The unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.
And a voice I didn't recognize spoke calmly into the dark.
"Doctor Conti," it said. "Your life is very expensive."