The scent of gunpowder still lingered.
Alessia sat in silence, the white silk of her wedding dress stained with blood—not her own, but someone’s. She didn’t know who. She didn’t ask.
The screams had faded. The music had stopped. Only the chaos echoed in her memory.
She was now sitting in the Morano estate’s private wing, surrounded by luxury... and silence. Daisy hadn’t left her side since she’d been rushed in. Her hands trembled as she wiped a cut on Alessia’s forehead with a damp cloth.
"I don’t think it’s deep," Daisy said softly, her voice breaking the quiet. "You’re lucky."
Alessia didn’t feel lucky.
"He was there," she whispered. "Lorenzo."
Daisy’s hands froze. "...I know."
Alessia slowly turned to look at her. "You saw him too?"
"Yes." Daisy’s voice lowered. "But... I didn’t want to believe it."
Alessia stood, the floor tilting beneath her like a ship caught in a storm. She gripped the edge of the vanity. Her reflection looked like a stranger—pale, wide-eyed, broken.
"I saw him shoot, Daisy," she said, voice barely audible. "He looked at me. Straight at me. And then he pulled the trigger."
Daisy moved to her quickly, steadying her. "You don’t know who he was aiming at."
"I do," Alessia replied. "He was aiming at my heart. Just not directly."
They stood like that for a moment—two girls, one a bride by force, the other a witness to betrayal—both trapped in a house of power they didn’t belong to.
Then the door opened.
He wasn’t bleeding, but his shirt was stained with someone else’s blood. His jacket was off. His hair disheveled. And yet, his presence filled the room like thunderclouds—unspoken power wrapped in stormy silence.
Alessia straightened.
"I want to speak to my wife," Luca said.
Daisy hesitated, glanced at Alessia, then nodded. "I’ll be outside."
When the door clicked shut, Luca’s eyes locked onto hers.
"You saw him too," he said.
He took a step closer. "Lorenzo."
Luca didn’t speak for a long moment. Instead, he walked to the liquor cabinet and poured a glass of whiskey. He didn’t drink it. Just held it, like it might steady his hands.
"I should kill him," he said quietly.
Alessia’s breath caught. "He’s not—"
"He is," Luca interrupted, turning toward her. "He’s not the man you knew anymore. That man died when he walked through the gates today with a gun aimed at my family."
Her jaw clenched. "He was angry. Hurt. You think I don’t know that? He loved me."
Luca’s eyes narrowed. "And I still do."
The words landed like a blow.
Alessia blinked, unsure she’d heard him right. "What...?"
Luca placed the untouched glass on the table and walked up to her.
"I didn’t mean for this to happen the way it did," he said. "But I know what I feel. And I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel anything."
Alessia backed away slightly, her heart hammering.
"Don’t," she said. "Don’t say things because I’m your wife now. That paper doesn’t change who we are."
"It changes what I’ll do to protect you," Luca replied. "You think Lorenzo hurt you by walking away? Imagine what I’ll do to someone who dares to point a gun at you."
His voice was low, but fierce. Real. Terrifying.
She stared up at him, breath caught between confusion and something dangerously close to desire.
"I don’t want your protection," she whispered. "I want my life back."
Luca’s hand reached out, brushing a loose curl from her face.
"You can’t go back, Alessia," he said. "Not after today. You’re one of us now. And if Lorenzo doesn’t understand that... then he’s the one who walked away."
The tension between them crackled. But before either could speak, a knock shattered the moment.
Elias entered, eyes sharp. "Boss. We caught one of the shooters."
Luca turned. "Alive?"
"Barely. But he’s talking."
Luca looked at Alessia. "Stay here."
"No," she said. "I want to know what he says."
Luca hesitated, then nodded once.
The interrogation room in the Morano estate was nothing short of brutal—concrete walls, a single bulb, and a chair bolted to the floor.
The man in it was young. Shaking. His arm was bandaged hastily, blood seeping through the cloth. He looked like he hadn’t expected to survive.
When Luca entered with Alessia behind him, the man flinched.
"I didn’t sign up for this," he croaked. "I thought it was just a warning. We weren’t supposed to shoot anyone!"
The man’s eyes flicked to Alessia. "It was him. Lorenzo. He planned it. Said he wanted to send a message to the Moranos."
"What message?" Luca asked.
"That she doesn’t belong to you."
Alessia’s heart stopped.
"What else?" Luca demanded.
The man swallowed hard. "He said... he’d come back. Not to kill. But to take."
Alessia stepped forward. "Take what?"
The man looked at her, almost afraid. "You."
Later that night, Alessia stood alone in the bedroom. The blood was gone. The guests had disappeared. Only silence remained.
Daisy approached, carrying a small envelope.
"This came in the evening post," she said, frowning. "There’s no name. Just... this."
Alessia took the envelope. It was heavy, sealed with black wax. The moment she opened it, her breath hitched.
Taken sometime after the wedding.
And beneath it, a single handwritten message:
"You looked peaceful. I wonder if you’ll still sleep so easily when you know who I’m coming for next."
There was no signature.
But she didn’t need one.
Lorenzo had made his move.
And this time, he wasn’t just breaking her heart.
He was coming for blood.
Luca entered the room unexpectedly and saw Alessia holding a paper....