The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting rose-gold shadows over the white sands of the Maldives. Their private villa, nestled between swaying palms and endless sea, glowed with soft lantern light. Rose had just come out of the shower, her damp skin shimmering slightly, wrapped only in one of Silvio's shirts that hung loose over her thighs.
Silvio watched her from the edge of the bed, his shirt unbuttoned, chest rising and falling with quiet restraint. But the heat in his eyes betrayed him.
"You'll be the death of me, La Fiora," he muttered, voice like molten velvet.
She sauntered over, straddling his lap with a teasing smirk. "Wouldn't be the worst way to die," she whispered near his ear, letting her fingers trail down his chest. He groaned low and pulled her to him, kissing her hard, as if he could devour every part of her.
The night became a blur of heat and hunger. Their bodies moved with desperate rhythm, passion sharpened by trust and the edge of something unspoken between them. Every kiss was a promise. Every moan a surrender.
And yet, after, as she lay curled against him, something in her felt…off.
A flutter in her stomach.
A tightness in her chest.
When she rose the next morning, nausea crashed into her like a wave. She barely made it to the bathroom, gripping the sink as the world tilted slightly.
Silvio was beside her in seconds, supporting her without a word. His hand cradled the back of her head while the other rubbed soothing circles on her back.
"You're burning," he said gently, pressing a hand to her forehead. "You didn't drink last night. You didn't eat anything suspicious. What is it?"
Rose blinked up at him, lips parted.
"I—I don't know. I've been feeling strange lately. More tired. Sensitive."
His eyes darkened with dawning realization. "Rose… when was your last cycle?"
Her breath hitched.
"I—I don't remember."
A moment of silence passed between them, thick with shock. Then, as if time had slowed, Silvio's hand slid to her stomach. Gently. Reverently.
"You think…?" he asked, barely above a whisper.
Tears pricked her lashes. She nodded.
Silvio stood, immediately calling in his private doctor. The blood test confirmed it within an hour.
Rose was pregnant.
With his child.
He held her for a long time afterward, seated on the edge of the bed, arms locked around her middle. He didn't speak much. He just held her. As if she were the most fragile, precious thing he'd ever touched.
Later that evening, after one last quiet dinner on the beach—no champagne this time—they boarded his jet back to the city. The doctor had warned her of fatigue, and Silvio refused to let her lift even a finger.
She slept most of the flight, her head resting on his chest. His hand never left her body.
When they reached his estate in the hills, the atmosphere felt wrong from the moment the gates creaked open.
Too still.
Too quiet.
Silvio's jaw tightened as he led Rose inside, one hand on the small of her back.
They stepped into the bedroom—and froze.
Blood.
Crimson streaks stained the crisp white sheets of their bed. A single rose, blackened at the edges, lay on her pillow. Beside it, a note.
Silvio grabbed it before she could touch it. His eyes scanned the elegant cursive:
"You can't protect her forever, Don Mysterio. The past is still alive. And now… so is she."
Rose's stomach dropped. "Is it… Eleanor?"
Silvio's fingers crumpled the note into his palm. "No. Someone worse."
She looked at him sharply. "Who?"
His silence spoke volumes.
Rose stepped back, heart thudding. "Silvio—what aren't you telling me?"
But before he could answer, she swayed slightly. He caught her.
"No more questions tonight," he said firmly. "You need to rest. For both of you."
His hand came to rest again on her belly.
Rose leaned into his chest, heart torn between awe and fear. She was carrying his child. She had fallen in love with the man the world feared—and yet, someone else had just declared war. And this time, it wasn't just her life at stake.
As Silvio wrapped his arms around her and called in his top security team, Rose stared at the stained bed, heart pounding.
The past was alive.
But so was their future.
And someone clearly wanted to destroy both.