The room was quiet, too quiet. Alessia sat by the window, staring at the fading sky. The sunset bled gold into crimson, painting the walls with a soft warmth that didn't reach her heart. Her hands trembled slightly as she held the white ribbon between her fingers — his ribbon.
She shouldn't be thinking about him.
She shouldn't even care.
But she did.
Every time she closed her eyes, she could still hear his voice — calm, deep, and annoyingly gentle. "Don't trust your uncle," he had said before leaving. Those words echoed in her mind like a warning wrapped in care.
Why did he protect her? Why did he look at her like that — like she was someone worth saving?
He was her father's enemy. He was supposed to destroy her family, not keep her safe in his mansion.
She clenched the ribbon tighter, trying to silence the guilt crawling through her chest.
"Get a grip, Alessia," she whispered to herself. "You can't fall for a man like him. You're a Romano. You were raised to fight, not to feel."
But no matter how many times she said it, her heart refused to listen.
She remembered how he stood between her and danger, how his eyes softened when he called her queen. It was just a game to him, wasn't it? Another way to confuse her, to make her trust him. Yet, why did it feel real?
She pressed a hand against her chest — her heartbeat was fast, stubborn. "This isn't love," she told herself. "This is madness."
Still, her mind betrayed her, replaying every moment — his calm smile, his patience, his voice when he said he doesn't hurt what he values.
He values me.
Tears gathered in her eyes before she could stop them. Alessia never cried, not since her mother's death. But something about Lorenzo broke through her walls without even trying.
"I hate him," she whispered shakily. "I hate that he made me smile."
Her phone buzzed suddenly, pulling her back to reality. Her heart jumped. It was the private number again.
Unknown: Are you thinking about me, my queen?
Her breath caught. She didn't reply.
Another message followed seconds later.
Unknown: Don't fight it. You feel it too.
She threw the phone onto the bed, angry at herself — angry because he was right. She did feel it. Every word, every look, every memory of him burned through her like wildfire.
She stood up, pacing the room, fighting her own heart. "No… I won't let you win," she muttered, half to herself, half to the ghost of him in her mind.
But deep down, in the silence that followed, Alessia knew the truth.
The enemy she feared most wasn't Lorenzo.
It was her own heart.