Becoming Alessia

The first rule of pretending to be someone else? Put on a damn good act. The second rule? Don't get too comfortable. I was already inside De Luca's mansion. And honestly, it was more than I had imagined. It was luxurious at its peak. Much bigger than Lorenzo's mansion in Germany. The heels weren't helping. It was exactly what Lorenzo said Alessia wore. You'll get used to the pain, he'd told me. I haven't yet. But I walked like I had. "Alessia." I turned quickly. An older woman hurried toward me—Martina. I remembered her from the files Lorenzo had made me study. She wore a black uniform, her grey hair neatly pulled back, and the moment her eyes landed on me, they filled with tears. She looked relieved. “You're finally back, Alessia,” she said, her voice soft and slightly shaky. “The house hasn't been the same without you.” Before I could react, she pulled me into a tight hug. For a second, I froze. Then I slowly wrapped my arms around her, forcing myself to relax. I pulled away with a small smile. “It's been a while.” She held my face between her hands, studying me carefully. “You look even more beautiful now, Alessia. And you've gained some weight too.” She smiled, turning me around as if she were a proud mother admiring her daughter. I blushed slightly and lowered my gaze, just like I'd been told the real Alessia often did whenever she received a compliment. It seemed to work. But then Martina started talking about things I had no idea about. Memories. People. The house. Things the files hadn't covered. I nodded whenever I needed to, smiled when she smiled, and prayed she wouldn't ask me anything I couldn't answer. Luckily, she kept talking. “Sir hasn't come home yet.” Sir. Cristian De Luca. My supposed husband. I bit my lips lightly. “Could you show me the way to my room?” I asked softly. “I still don't remember everything clearly since the accident.” Her expression immediately softened. “Of course, dear. Follow me.” We walked upstairs, and after a few moments, she stopped in front of a large wooden door. “Everyone's happy you're home,” she said before opening it. I forced a small smile. “I'm glad to be back.” “This is your room.” I stepped inside. The room was huge. Really, really huge. It looked like it had been designed for three people instead of one. My eyes swept across every corner, taking in the expensive furniture, the enormous bed, the elegant decorations, everything. Martina turned toward me and gently took my hands. “I understand that it must be hard for you to remember everything clearly right now,” she said. “I heard what happened to you from Mr. Lorenzo, and I must say, you're strong.” “Thank you.” I smiled lightly. She squeezed my hands before letting go. “If you need anything, don't hesitate to call me.” “Okay.” I nodded, keeping my voice barely above a whisper. Martina gave me one last smile before leaving. The moment the door clicked shut, I let out the breath I'd been holding. I collapsed onto the bed. For the first time since I'd entered the mansion, I allowed myself to relax. Then my phone vibrated. It was Lorenzo. How is it going? Have you met him yet? I stared at the message for a moment before typing. Not yet. Everything is going well. Which was obviously a lie. A few seconds later, his reply came. Always remember, you're my daughter. You're my family, okay? My eyes stung. I quickly blinked, but it was too late. A tear slipped down my cheek. Lorenzo was like the father I'd never had. He was frightening, ruthless, and sometimes impossible to understand. But he had given me something I'd never expected from anyone. A place to belong. I wiped the tears away and stared at his message again. You're my family. I smiled faintly. A loud sound echoed from downstairs. A car door slamming shut. It must be him. Cristian. Just then, Martina walked into the room. “Mr. De Luca is back,” she said. I nodded slightly. “Thank you.” She gave me a small smile before leaving. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my emotions. I adjusted my dress, ran a hand through my hair, and headed downstairs. The moment I reached the bottom of the stairs, my eyes met his. And for a second, I froze. Cristian De Luca. His eyes were brown—cold, intense, and strangely beautiful. I knew he was handsome. Lorenzo had shown me countless pictures of him while preparing me for this. But the pictures hadn't done him justice. Not even close. He was… breathtaking. The kind of man you would only see in movies, he had an expression that could make anyone feel unwelcome. But it wasn't his appearance that made my stomach twist. It was the way he was looking at me. Coldly. Almost as if he hated me. “Ma'am.” The butler's voice—Marcus—pulled me back. I blinked. Cristian was still staring at me. There was something dark in his eyes. Something that made me wonder what kind of relationship he'd had with the real Alessia. I bit my lower lip slightly, just as Alessia did whenever she was nervous. I smiled sweetly at him. “Cristian.” I walked toward him and sat beside him. And before I could think twice about what I was doing, I wrapped my arms around him. I hugged him. I was shocked. I pulled away, but kept looking at him, my hands still loosely wrapped around his neck. The butler cleared his throat. “We'll take our leave,” Marcus said with a nervous smile, gesturing toward himself and Martina. Then they left. Just like that, I was alone with him. I kept smiling at Cristian, pretending to be the happy wife who had finally returned home. Inside, I was f*****g terrified. He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes scanning my face as if he were trying to figure something out. Then, without a word, he gently removed my hands from around his neck. The moment his fingers touched mine, a cold shiver ran down my spine. I swallowed it down and refused to let my expression change. I had to stay in character. “You don't miss me?” I asked sweetly, biting my lower lip. His eyes dropped to my fingers. I hadn't even realized I was twisting them nervously. His gaze lingered there for a moment before slowly moving back to my face. Then he stood. I looked up at him, still smiling. He said nothing. Not a single word. He simply turned around and walked away. I waited until he disappeared from sight before finally releasing the breath trapped in my lungs. I finally inhaled fresh air deeply. I looked toward the direction he'd gone, my brows furrowing. Could it be . . . He was mute? Lorenzo had prepared me for everything. Cristian's habits. His temper. His likes and dislikes. Everything. So why the hell had he never mentioned that his supposed husband couldn't speak?