251Alaric’s POVThe door of our room closed behind us with a soft click. I could feel the anger radiating off Emilia in waves. I shrugged off my jacket and tossed it onto the nearest chair, already bracing for what I knew was coming.“You couldn’t even try, could you?” Emilia’s voice was sharp, cutting through the quietness like a blade.I turned to face her, arms crossed. “Try what? To sit there and let him insult me? To pretend I don’t know exactly what kind of man he is?”She stepped closer, her eyes blazing with anger. “To be civil, Alaric. That’s all I wanted. Civil. But you couldn’t even give me that.”“Did you hear the things he said to me?” I shot back, my voice rising. “To us? He doesn’t respect me, Emilia, and he sure as hell doesn’t respect you if he thinks he can dictate your life.”Emilia threw up her hands in frustration. “This wasn’t about respect, Alaric! It was about finding some kind of middle ground, about trying to stop this constant fighting.”“Middle ground?” I
252Alaric’s POV“I’m not dealing with this tonight,” I grumbled, walking past her and out of the room. I stormed to the kitchen to get something cold for myself.“You will, Alaric. Answer my fucking question,” she snapped, coming after me.“No. Okay? It’s not about Francesca’s mother. So drop the damn topic. And just know that I don’t want you around Alonso ever again,” I replied icily.She scoffed, shooting me a look of disbelief. I leaned against the edge of the kitchen counter, arms folded across my chest, as Emilia paced back and forth in front of me.“Do you even hear yourself, Alaric?” she demanded, spinning around to face me. “You can’t just decide to shut Alonso out forever. He’s my family.”“Family doesn’t have you kidnapped,” I shot back, my voice low but sharp. “Family doesn’t manipulate and guilt-trip you into questioning your own choices.”“That’s not the point,” she argued, her tone sounding more like desperation right now. “We can’t live like this—constantly at war wit
253Emilia’s POVThe house was quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Alaric had retreated to his office after our argument, leaving me alone in the living room to stew in my thoughts. I sat on the edge of the couch, my knees pulled up to my chest, staring at nothing in particular. Everything that had happened today —the dinner, the argument, my father’s words—pressed down on me like a suffocating blanket.How had it come to this?I pressed my palms to my temples, willing myself to think clearly. The truth was, I felt torn in two. On one side was Alaric, unwavering in his conviction that my father was a threat, a man undeserving of forgiveness. On the other was my father, whose disapproval of Alaric hung over us like a storm cloud. I couldn’t deny the pain in his eyes when he’d told me Alaric would only bring danger into my life. It wasn’t just disapproval; it was fear.But fear of what?I’d spent the better part of my life believing Alonso Cruz was untouchable—a
254Emilia’s POVThe café was quieter than I expected for a weekday afternoon. A few scattered patrons sat hunched over laptops or nursing cups of coffee. I fiddled with the handle of my mug, the heat radiating through the ceramic doing very little to steady my nerves.Alonso wasn’t late—he never was—but the anticipation of seeing him again had me on edge. After the disastrous dinner, I wasn’t sure how this conversation would go. Part of me was still angry at him for the things he said about Alaric. The other part—the one that still saw him as my father—wanted to believe there was a way to bridge the gap between us.When the door chimed, I knew it was him before I even looked up. Alonso Cruz had a presence that couldn’t be ignored. He walked in with the air of a man who owned the room, his suit crisp, his movements deliberate. His eyes found mine almost immediately, and I saw the flicker of something—relief, maybe?—before his expression hardened again.“Emilia,” he said, his voice low
255Alaric’s POVI couldn’t sit still. I paced back and forth in my study, the old wooden floor creaking beneath each step. The thick curtains in the windows blocked the fading sunlight,Allesio was late. Again. I glanced at the clock on the wall for what felt like the hundredth time. It was nearly an hour past when I’d told him to meet me here, and my patience had already worn thin.I had to know what was going on with Rosa. I couldn’t let the Cruz family get away with whatever they were planning. Rosa was a piece on this board—whether she liked it or not—and I needed to know where she stood. Where her family stood. Were they loyal to the Cruz family, or loyal to me?I grabbed the glass of scotch off my desk, the ice cubes clinking together as I tipped it to my lips. The burn hit the back of my throat, and I let the warmth settle in my chest, trying to calm the storm brewing inside me.Finally, the door opened. Allesio stepped inside, his face a little too calm for my liking. He looke
256Alaric’s POVI knew what I had to do. The problem was that, deep down, I didn’t want to.The air in the room felt suffocating, the walls closing in as I stood before the window, staring out into the night. The city lights flickered beneath the black sky like fireflies in the distance. It would have been beautiful to watch, but at that moment, I was thinking about something much more personal.Alonso.Every day that bastard continued to breathe, every time he spoke to Emilia, every time I saw him lurking in the shadows, I felt the weight of my own restraint grinding against my will. I hated him. I hated him more than I hated anything else. What he did to Emilia, how he treated her, how he dared to step in my way—there was no forgiveness for it.I couldn’t let him live. Not anymore.It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about it. I’d spent hours planning, poring over resources and contacts, tracking Alonso’s movements, trying to determine the perfect moment to strike. I couldn’t trust anyo
257Emilia’s POVI wasn’t supposed to hear it. I wasn’t supposed to be standing there, half-hidden behind the door, my heart thundering in my chest like I’d been caught in the act of some great betrayal. But there I was, standing in front of the door to Alaric’s office, listening to him speak with a coldness in his voice that made my stomach drop.“I don’t care what it costs. I’m not going to let Alonso win. I’m not going to let anyone threaten her again.”The words hit me like a slap. I didn’t need to hear any more to understand what was happening. I knew the kind of man Alaric was—the kind who would do anything for those he loved. But this? This felt like something darker. More personal. I wasn’t naïve enough to think I didn’t know how far Alaric would go, but I had no idea how far he was willing to take it.My breath caught in my throat, and I stepped back, stumbling slightly. I had to get away. But my legs wouldn’t move. Instead, I leaned against the doorframe, trying to steady my
258Alaric’s POVI watched her from across the room. She was sitting there, her arms crossed, looking down at her lap as if trying to collect herself. Her shoulders were trembling ever so slightly, and I could feel the guilt gnawing at me, making my chest tighten with each passing second.I had messed up. Big time. I had let the rage and the need for control cloud my judgment, and now she was sitting there, hurt, angry, and devastated because of the choices I had made without her. Without her.I was so damn stupid.“Emilia,” I said, my voice low but firm, my feet taking me toward her before I even realized what I was doing. She didn’t look up when I said her name, but I knew she heard me.She didn’t respond, though. She just kept looking at her hands, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. I could feel the distance between us, like an invisible wall had gone up the moment I’d made the decision to move against Alonso without even telling her.I could feel her anger radiating fro
314Matteo’s POV I wasn’t dumb enough to think flowers would fix everything.But I figured they wouldn’t hurt.Today was day fifteen, and I had a bouquet of her favorites—white lilies, blue hydrangeas, and those little yellow flowers she once told me the name of but I immediately forgot—delivered to her office. No big romantic gestures, no grand declarations, just something simple.And a note.Gianna, I meant what I said. I’m sorry. For everything. —MatteoShort. To the point. No extra fluff.I spent the next hour pretending I wasn’t thinking about it. Kept my head down, answered emails, even managed to sit through an entire meeting without checking my phone.Then my office door opened.I looked up, my pulse kicking up a notch, only to find Gianna standing there, holding the bouquet like it was a package she hadn’t ordered.“They’re nice,” she said.I waited, but that was it. No smile. No softening around the edges. Just a factual statement.“Glad you think so.” I tried for a smirk
313Matteo’s POV I should’ve seen this coming. I should have known that this would happened ever since she disappeared for two months without saying anything.The coldness. The distance. The way Gianna looked at me like I was a stranger, like I hadn’t once known exactly how she liked her coffee, how she twisted the rings on her fingers when she was overthinking, how she sighed my name when I kissed the spot just below her ear.I should have know this would happened. I should’ve been prepared for all of it.But I wasn’t.So instead, I did what any rational man in my position would do—I tortured myself by replaying every single moment we’d ever shared, as if overanalyzing the past would somehow change the present.There were the small things. The way she used to roll her eyes at me but smile anyway. The way she’d call me an idiot, but then pull me closer like she didn’t really mean it. The way she’d lean into me when she was tired, like it was the most natural thing in the world.Then
312Matteo’s POV Today was day five of trying to win her back. I waited until the end of the day.Not because I was scared, obviously. I just figured if I caught Gianna when she was about to leave, she’d have fewer escape routes.That was the plan. But, like most things involving Gianna lately, it didn’t go how I expected.She was already packing up when I walked into her office.“No knocking now?” she asked, barely sparing me a glance.I ignored that. “We need to talk.”She clicked her laptop shut and slipped it into her bag. “No, we don’t.”I exhaled. “Gianna.”She finally looked up, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “Matteo.”There was a time when her saying my name like that would’ve meant something else. Something teasing, warm, familiar. Now, it was nothing more than acknowledgment. And I hated it.I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “I just want to apologize.”She blinked. “For what?”That threw me off for a second. “For everything.”Her lips pressed together like she was
311Matteo’s POV I am nothing if not persistent.Or maybe just stupid.Either way, I wasn’t going to let Gianna’s newfound ice-queen routine scare me off. Not yet.So, this next morning, I tried again. Showed up at her office with another coffee—because I’m thoughtful like that—and set it on her desk without a word. I figured a silent approach might work better this time. Less room for her to verbally rip me apart.She didn’t even blink. Didn’t look up, didn’t say thanks, didn’t acknowledge me at all. Just kept typing like I wasn’t even there.Alright then.I leaned against the edge of her desk. “Before you tell me you already have one, I checked. Your cup is empty.”Still nothing. But I saw the slight pause in her typing. A crack in the armor.Progress.“And before you say you don’t want it, this one isn’t coffee.” I nudged the cup closer. “It’s tea. Herbal. The kind you used to drink when you worked late.”That got her. The tiniest flicker of hesitation in her expression. Then, jus
310Matteo’s POVI waited until lunch.Not because I was nervous. Definitely not. I just figured if I approached her too early, it would seem desperate. And I wasn’t desperate.But as I walked toward her office, a coffee in one hand, a file in the other — a completely real, work-related file, by the way — I felt something tighten in my chest. Like I was heading into enemy territory without armor.Gianna’s door was open. She was at her desk, typing something with the kind of focus that made it clear she had no interest in interruptions. Or people. Or, possibly, happiness in general.I knocked on the doorframe anyway. “Boss.”She barely looked up. “Matteo.”Not Matt. Not Teo. Not even an annoyed sigh. Just my full government name like I was any other employee who needed something from her.Okay. Cool. Professional. I could be professional.I stepped inside, setting the coffee on her desk. “Thought you could use this. Since, you know, you used to actually enjoy caffeine before you left.”
309Matteo’s POV The office was buzzing the moment Gianna walked in.Not the kind of buzz that came with excitement. No. This was a different kind—muted whispers, stolen glances, people suddenly remembering they had work to do when she passed by. The kind of buzz that meant no one had expected her to show up today. Hell, I hadn’t expected her to show up today.And yet, there she was.Gianna Lorenzo, back in her corner office like she’d never left.Only, she wasn’t the same.I watched from my desk as she strode across the floor, her heels clicking against the tiles in sharp, deliberate beats. The last time I saw her, she was different. Softer, warmer, laughing at my stupid jokes even when she rolled her eyes. This version of her didn’t even glance at anyone. Didn’t offer a single smile. Just walked straight to her office, shut the door, and stayed there.Like a ghost returning to haunt its own life.“She’s… different,” Leo muttered beside me, tapping his pen against his desk.I didn’t
308Rosa’s POV The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the apartment. I sat on the couch, nursing a cup of coffee, my fingers drumming against the ceramic. I’d come back to the states three days ago to finally pack up and move back to Italy. Across from me, Emilia stared, her lips pursed like she was trying to figure out how to respond to what I’d just told her.“You’re leaving,” she finally said, and it wasn’t a question.I nodded. “Yeah. I think it’s time.”She exhaled, leaning back against the couch. “Time for what? To run away? To bury yourself in business deals and pretend like you don’t care?”I rolled my eyes. “I’m not running away.”Emilia shot me a pointed look. “Rosa, please.”I sighed, setting my cup down. “I need a break. And I need to be there for my father. He’s been handling everything on his own for too long. It’s about time I stepped up.”She folded her arms. “And Allesio?”My stomach clenched at the mention of his name. I forced mys
307Allesio’s POV The whiskey burned on the way down, but it wasn’t enough to numb the ache in my chest. Nothing was. The dimly lit bar around me hummed with the usual noise—clinking glasses, quiet chatter, the occasional burst of laughter that grated on my nerves. It was ironic how the world kept spinning, people kept living, and I was stuck in this endless loop of regret and self-destruction.I swirled the amber liquid in my glass, staring at it like it held the answers to my misery. Maybe if I drank enough, I’d finally stop seeing her face every time I closed my eyes. Maybe I’d stop hearing her voice in my head, the way she told me to stop chasing her like I was nothing more than an annoying shadow she couldn’t shake off.The bar stool next to me scraped against the floor, but I didn’t look up. I already knew who it was. Only one person would be stupid enough to come find me when I clearly wanted to be alone.Alaric sighed, loud and unimpressed. “How long are you going to do this?
306Rosa’s POV The jet lag hadn’t hit me yet, but I was already very exhausted and felt done for the day.Italy looked the same as it always did—beautiful, timeless, like it existed in a different universe from the chaos I had left behind. I inhaled the crisp evening air as I stepped out of the sleek black car, the grand estate standing wide in front of me. The Smith family mansion. My father’s empire.The guards stationed outside barely blinked at my arrival, nodding respectfully as I walked past them. I had never lived here full-time, but it was still home in some ways. A piece of me, whether I wanted to admit it or not.The grand doors opened before I could even knock, and there he was—Romano Smith. The infamous Don. My father. He looked the same, even though it seemed he had grown older since the last time I saw him. He was dressed in his usual crisp three-piece suit, his silver hair combed back, his sharp eyes studying me the way they always did, like he was seeing everything I