Chapter Five: The Weight of Protection
The morning arrived slowly, with a pale London sun pressing faint light through the curtains of Elena's room. She had hardly slept. Every time she closed her eyes, images from the past days returned in fragments. The masked intruder. The studio attack. Luca's voice telling her marriage was the only way to keep her safe. His touch as he checked the bruise on her arm. His retreating footsteps down the hall.
Her life had shrunk into a space ruled by silence, security protocols, and the steady presence of a man she did not fully understand.
When she finally stepped into the hallway, the estate felt different in daylight. Uniformed staff moved discreetly. Security screens glowed in quiet corners. The entire place breathed watchfulness. It was a world built on discipline, one she had never imagined herself entering.
As she neared the kitchen, she saw Luca at the long table, already dressed in dark attire, clean and precise as always. A few files were spread out before him, but he had paused his work to drink his morning coffee. His posture was straight, his shoulders tense, as if ready for whatever danger might appear at any moment.
His eyes lifted as she stepped in.
"Good morning, Elena," he said.
His voice was calm, but she sensed something beneath it. I'm tired. A heaviness he hid behind control.
"Good morning," she replied softly.
He motioned toward the chair across from him. "Sit. You should eat before we begin the day."
A quiet breakfast was already prepared. Toast, fruit, tea. It felt strangely intimate, sharing a table with him like this, yet the distance between them remained.
As she settled, he closed the folder in front of him and rested his hands on the table.
"We need to discuss your schedule," he said. "I have reviewed your upcoming commitments."
Elena sighed. "I suppose most of them are impossible now."
Elena looked down at her hands. She had fought her whole life to build her independence, and now every piece of it seemed to slip through her fingers. The weight of that loss pressed against her ribs, but Luca studied her calmly, as though he already knew what she was thinking.
"Not impossible," he said. "Just… adjusted."
She let out a breath. "Adjusted is another word for controlled."
His jaw tightened for a moment before he answered. "Protected. That is the word I am using. And I intend to keep using it."
The firmness in his voice both reassured and unnerved her. He spoke like a man accustomed to taking responsibility for everything within his reach. Even her. Especially her.
She pushed a piece of fruit around her plate. "I don't want my entire life to be rewritten because someone decided I was a target."
Luca leaned back slightly, watching her in a way he rarely allowed himself. "Elena, I didn't ask for this situation either. But we are already in it. I would rather you blame me for being strict than let you walk into danger unprepared."
She met his gaze for a few seconds. It struck her how tired he looked behind the calm exterior. How the shadows beneath his eyes hinted at the strain of the past week. She wondered if he had slept at all.
"What happens now?" she asked.
He opened the folder again and slid a printed page toward her. "Today, you have a mandatory briefing with the security team. They will teach you the new protocols. After that, you may go to your studio, but only under escort."
She frowned. "My studio? It's still a crime scene."
"They cleared it early this morning," he said.
"It's safe for you to visit, but only briefly."
Her chest tightened. The idea of returning there sent a tremor across her nerves, but part of her needed to see it. I needed to reclaim it. She nodded slowly.
"And after that?"
He hesitated. Elena rarely saw him hesitate.
"This evening my family is hosting a private dinner. Only a few members of the inner circle will attend. They need to meet you."
A knot formed in her stomach. "Meet me? Why?"
"Because by the end of the week," he said quietly, "you will officially be tied to my name."
Elena looked away, absorbing the reality that kept growing around her. She wasn't sure whether to feel grateful or trapped. Maybe both.
Luca rose from his seat and collected the files. The movement broke the fragile calm between them. She sensed he was about to leave, but something within her reached before her thoughts caught up.
"Luca," she called softly.
He stopped and turned.
For a heartbeat, neither spoke. She could not find the right words for the storm inside her, so she said the only thing that felt true.
"Thank you… for trying."
His expression shifted slightly, as though her words had cut through armor he didn't realize he still wore. He held her gaze a second longer than necessary.
"It's not trying," he said. "It's my responsibility."
Then he stepped out of the room, leaving her alone with her untouched breakfast and a day filled with decisions she had never asked to make.
But for the first time since everything started, Elena felt the smallest flicker of something lighter. Not comfort. Not trust. Something in between. A fragile awareness that danger had forced them together, yet there was more beneath Luca's silence than power or control.
The morning light shifted across the table, warming her hands. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, steadying herself for the hours ahead. Whatever came next would reshape her life, but she refused to face it as a helpless shadow of herself.
She would go to the studio. She would confront what happened there. And she would meet Luca's world with her head held
high.
Because even if fear chased her footsteps, she would not let it define her.