ALLESSANDRO’S POV CONTINUED.

The storm from the rain was calmer than the one brewing in the hall as the air tightens causing me to barely breath.

“Where was he shot?” I asked him.

“He was shot twice. One in his head and the other in his chest.” He says staring at Avelina.

“Were there any witnesses?” I asked.

“Nobody is willing to talk,” He says, still staring at Avelina. “What should I—?”

“Please leave us.” I said, cutting him off.

I turn to look at her and at this point she stopped crying. Although she looks pale her she still looked beautiful.

“Is this in connection with my father?” She asks.

I was mute because telling her anything would only expose her to the dangers ahead.

She raises her voice. “You think keeping things from me is about protection? You can lie to everyone else but not to me”

“I am only trying to protect you. This is not about lying.”

“So locking me up in this house is a form of protection?”

“Yes. It is.” I say. “I am locking you up because immediately you step out you won’t come back alive.”’

She walks towards me with her hands on her waist. “You keep talking about protection when i do not know what it is you are protecting me from. I do not see any army breaking down walls. You are just being self centred. Protecting your ego.”

Her words stings. “You think i am being self centered? I am the only one standing between you and your enemies. I can feed you to them. But i made my brother a promise not to let a single hair from your head fall.”

I could see her eyes soften but only for a moment. “You talk about protection but who is protecting me from you.?”

The question burns my soul. Makes me feel like a monster.

I stand up from the chair and reached for her hand. “You do not need protection from me. I do not break promises, especially the one i made to my brother.”

“Don’t i?” She asks pulling her hand away from my grip. “You took everything from me. My freedom, my home, my father. What else do you want to do? Ruin my life by being my dictator?”

“I will take everything if that is the only way i can protect you.”

I could see her flinch from the corner of my eyes but i do not stop talking. “That is the only way i can keep you from meeting your father.” I say as i stormed out without meeting her gaze.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Days blur into one another. She sees him only in passing — always dressed in sharp suits, always flanked by men who treat her like a porcelain grenade, dangerous if mishandled.

She tells herself he is a monster. But then, cracks appear.

One afternoon, she is walking in the courtyard when a rival boss visiting the estate smirks and says, “Rossi’s new wife. I wonder how long before she—”

The man doesn’t finish. Allessandro’s hand is suddenly at his throat, pinning him to the wall. His voice is calm, but each word is a blade. “You will not speak her name again. Ever.”

The man stumbles away, pale. Avelina doesn’t thank him. She just stares, unsettled by the fierce protectiveness that had nothing to do with politics.

Another night, she catches him in the study, reading a file. He looks up, and for a moment there is no hatred in his gaze — only something warmer, heavier, like he’s memorizing her. She looks away first.

Over dinners they’re forced to share for appearances, he surprises her by asking about her life before all this. She doesn’t answer at first, but over time, small truths slip out — how she used to paint, how she hums without realizing it when she’s nervous.

“You hum in C minor,” he says one evening, swirling his wine.

She blinks. “You noticed that?”

“I notice everything about you.”

She sets her fork down, unnerved. “That’s not comforting.”

He leans back, studying her. “It’s not meant to be.”

Still, the air between them shifts. It is no longer pure hate. Something else is beginning to seep in — something far more dangerous.

The night is quiet until it isn’t.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

ALLESSANDRO’S POV

My phone suddenly buzzes. I look down to a notification sent from someone.

They know she is alive. The message glows on my screen.

Cold sweats run through my skin.

“Is there a problem.?” She asks.

“It is not something you should worry yourself with.” I say. “We would be going away for a while.”

“Why? Where to?”

“Somewhere safe.” I say to her.

“I am not running away.”’

“I am taking you away from here, if i do not they will finish you off.”

“You cannot make decisions for me Allessandro.” She says trying to fight me.

“I am your husband. You do as i say. This is about keeping you alive and not what you want.” I say before i stormed out of the hall.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________Avelina hears gunfire outside the estate, sharp and sudden. Shouts follow, boots pounding against stone. She freezes in the hallway, gripping the banister, when two guards rush past her. One of them is carrying Allessandro.

He’s bleeding.

The sight knocks the breath out of her — not from pity, she tells herself, but from shock. His suit jacket is torn, his white shirt blooming red at the shoulder. His jaw is tight with pain, but his eyes still find her.

“Move,” one of the guards orders, but Allessandro stops them.

“Put me in my room,” he says, voice low but firm. “She’ll take care of it.”

Her eyes widen. “I will not—”

“You will,” he says, and there’s no room for argument.

Minutes later, she’s in his bedroom with a first aid kit she doesn’t remember fetching. He sits on the edge of the bed, watching her with that same unshakable calm as she peels back the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re lucky,” she mutters, cleaning the wound. “Could have been your heart.”

“Maybe it was,” he says quietly.

She stops for half a second, then pretends she didn’t hear him. “Hold still.”

Her fingers brush his skin, and she hates that it feels warm under her touch. Their eyes meet — just a flicker too long. Something unspoken hums in the air, and she looks away, stitching in silence.

When she’s done, she reaches for the bandage, but he catches her wrist gently.

“Be careful who you trust,” he says, his voice low, close. “Not everyone in this house wants you alive.”

The warning sits heavy between them. She pulls her hand back. “And I’m supposed to trust you?”

“That’s up to you,” he says, leaning back. “But I am the only one keeping you breathing.”