The night stretched over the Romano estate like silk threaded with danger. Alessia stood by her window, the curtains breathing softly with the wind. Below her, the courtyard slept under shadows — quiet, too quiet for a house that used to echo with laughter.
Her mind was restless, turning over every detail of the betrayal that had crawled into her family like poison. Her uncle's voice still rang in her head — the way he always said family first with a smile that never reached his eyes. Now she knew what hid behind that smile: greed, and an alliance with the one man her father swore was untouchable — Lorenzo's father.
Her heart clenched at the thought. The man who destroyed Lorenzo's childhood, who turned his son against him, was now reaching for her father's empire too. And she was done waiting for men to protect what was hers.
On the table lay an open ledger — not real, but close enough to fool anyone desperate for power. Every line, every figure had been rewritten by her own hand. A false record of money transfers, shipments, and names that led nowhere. It was bait, and she was the hunter.
She closed the book slowly, the leather whispering beneath her fingers.
"Let's see how clever you really are, uncle," she murmured.
By the time the clock struck midnight, Alessia was in the main hall, speaking quietly with the only person she trusted — Eliza, her loyal maid.
"If anyone asks," Alessia said softly, tying a ribbon around the sealed ledger, "you'll say this was delivered by one of father's men. Make sure my uncle finds it first. And Eliza…" She hesitated, her eyes hardening. "If anything happens tonight, stay out of the south wing. Promise me."
Eliza nodded, her lips trembling. "Yes, Miss Alessia."
As the maid disappeared into the corridor, Alessia stood there for a moment, letting the silence press around her. Her hands were steady now. She had learned something from Lorenzo — patience. The ability to play the long game even when fear gnawed at your chest.
Her mind drifted to him — the man who had once kidnapped her, the same man who now haunted her thoughts. She remembered his touch, his quiet strength, the way his voice softened only when he spoke to her.
Every queen needs a king… and you need me.
The memory burned through her. She had let him go because he needed time to think, but not a single night had passed without her wondering where he was.
And she didn't know that, at that very moment, he was closer than she thought.
Across the city, hidden by the shadows of the docks, Lorenzo watched through a pair of binoculars. His men waited behind him, dressed in black, blending with the night. The message he received from his informant was short — Movement from Romano house. Unknown delivery to the docks. Possibly a trap.
He didn't want to believe Alessia would act without telling him. But he also knew her too well now — her fire, her courage, her need to prove herself.
"She's making a move," one of his men whispered. "You want us to intercept?"
Lorenzo lowered the binoculars, his jaw tight. "No. We watch first. If she's in danger, we move."
His tone was calm, but the vein in his neck pulsed with tension. He wasn't afraid for himself. He was afraid for her — for the woman who somehow found her way into his heart despite the blood that stained both their families.
The wind shifted, carrying the scent of salt and diesel from the river. The docks were alive with faint lights, men moving crates, whispers of deals being made in the dark.
Then he saw it — a familiar car pulling up, and a man stepping out with the ledger in his hand. The uncle.
Back in the mansion, Alessia paced by the window again, watching the distant road that led to the city. She had sent her message. Now, all she could do was wait.
Her father had no idea. He thought she was asleep. If he knew she had set this plan in motion, he would have locked her in her room. But she couldn't risk another surprise attack, another betrayal. She needed proof — something that would end this war before it consumed them all.
Her thoughts tangled again with Lorenzo's name. She hated how much she missed him. How every small sound made her hope it was his voice.
The door creaked, pulling her from her thoughts.
"Eliza?" she called.
No answer. Only the sound of footsteps fading down the corridor.
A chill ran down her spine.
She reached for the small pistol hidden in her drawer. Her heart raced — not from fear, but from instinct. Something was wrong.
She moved quietly to the door and listened. Voices. Men's voices. Not her father's guards — these were lower, rougher, unfamiliar.
Her uncle's men.
She didn't wait. She turned and climbed through the balcony, landing softly in the garden below. The cold air bit into her skin, but she didn't care. She ran through the shadows, her heart hammering against her ribs.
At the docks, Lorenzo's phone buzzed once. A coded alert from one of his spies inside the Romano estate.
"She's out," the voice said. "Escaped from the house."
Lorenzo froze. "Where?"
"Heading toward the main road—"
The line went dead.
"Damn it," he hissed, throwing the phone to one of his men. "Get the car. Now."
The night exploded into motion. Engines roared to life.
Alessia's breath came in sharp bursts as she ran through the narrow path behind the estate. Her only thought was to reach the safe house near the chapel — the one Lorenzo once showed her. She didn't know why she trusted that place, only that it felt like him.
The sound of tires screeching made her stop. Headlights cut through the darkness.
She raised the pistol, her hand shaking slightly.
The car door opened, and her heart almost stopped.
"Alessia," Lorenzo said, stepping out slowly, one hand raised. "It's me."
For a second, all her fear melted away.
"Lorenzo…" she whispered, lowering the gun.
He walked toward her, his eyes scanning her for any sign of injury. "You shouldn't be here. You set a trap without backup—do you know how dangerous that is?"
"I had to," she said, her voice trembling but firm. "My uncle is planning something. I needed proof. I can't just stand by and let everyone die for their pride."
Lorenzo sighed and stepped closer. "You don't have to do this alone anymore."
She looked at him, tears glistening in her eyes. "Then don't leave me alone."
He wanted to promise her that he wouldn't, but before he could answer, the distant echo of gunfire broke the moment.
Both turned toward the docks, where the first shots of her trap had been fired.
Lorenzo grabbed her hand. "Stay with me."
And this time, she didn't pull away.
From a distance, the docks blazed with chaos — flashes of muzzle fire, shouts, and the sound of boots hitting metal. Alessia's trap had worked, but something else was moving beneath it — something neither of them had planned for.
As they reached the edge of the river, Lorenzo stopped, pulling her behind a truck. His eyes narrowed at the scene ahead — men from both sides, shouting, confused, turning on one another.
"This wasn't supposed to happen," Alessia whispered.
"I know," he said darkly. "Someone else joined the game."
She turned to him, her pulse racing. "Who?"
He looked at her, the truth sharp in his gaze. "My father."
The night burned with betrayal.
And for the first time, Alessia realized this wasn't just a war between families.
It was a war for their hearts.