Days passed, and the messages didn't stop.
Every morning, Alessia Romano woke to a new text — always from the same private number, always written in that same confident tone that sent a shiver through her spine.
"You shouldn't work so late , my queen. Even the strongest need rest."
"I saw you smile tonight — it suited you more than the anger you wear for the world."
"One day, you'll know who I am. Until then, stay safe for me."
At first, she ignored them. Deleted them. Pretended they didn't matter. But then came the gifts — small, meaningful things that seemed to understand her in ways no one else ever had.
A rare orchid — her mother's favorite flower.
A silk ribbon, the same shade as the gown she wore at the gala.
A vintage book she had once mentioned in passing, years ago, during an interview.
No name. No note. Just quiet understanding.
It unnerved her. It fascinated her.
Each message was a line between intrusion and intimacy, and Alessia — for all her intelligence and caution — found herself waiting for the next one.
She tried to convince herself it was curiosity. A way to learn who dared to play games with her. But deep down, she knew it wasn't just that.
There was something about the words — the gentleness behind the boldness — that touched the parts of her she had long buried beneath power and armor.
And that realization unsettled her more than any threat ever could.
Late at night, she sat by her window, the little white dog asleep beside her, staring at her phone screen as another message arrived.
"You looked lonely tonight. I wish I could have been there."
Her fingers hovered over the reply button — but she didn't type. She couldn't.
Instead, she whispered into the empty room, "Who are you?"
No answer came. Only silence.
But outside, somewhere in the dark, someone was watching — close enough to see the light in her window, close enough to hear her soft voice call into the night.
And when Alessia finally fell asleep, the shadow stepped closer to the gates, leaving behind one final note tied to the bars with a crimson ribbon.
"Even queens deserve to be loved."