(Aria)
I didn’t wait for Luca’s footsteps to fade completely before I followed him.
I didn’t even think about it.
Something inside me snapped the moment he said, “Staying alive is your responsibility.”
Like I was a task… a burden… a locked door he needed to guard.
I wasn’t furniture.
I wasn’t fragile porcelain.
I wasn’t some collectible relic from the Romano family he was obligated to preserve.
And I refused to live like that.
I found him halfway down the hallway leading toward his study. His broad shoulders were tense, his hands curled into fists by his sides. He wasn’t calm—not like he pretended.
Good.
“Luca,” I called out.
He stopped instantly.
But he didn’t turn.
I walked up behind him until I was close enough to smell the faint remnants of his cologne and the sharper und
