His sin, Her salvation

Chapter Twelve

Serena’s body burned with fever, her fragile form trembling under the heavy blankets. Her breath was shallow, her lips dry and cracked. The dim candlelight flickered against the stone walls of her prison, casting eerie shadows that danced with the rhythm of her labored breathing.

A soft knock on the door startled her, but she was too weak to react. The heavy door creaked open, and a servant cautiously stepped inside, their footsteps hesitant.

“Signorina… you must drink this,” the woman whispered, placing a cup of water on the bedside table.

Serena’s gaze remained unfocused. She felt hot and cold at the same time, her body betraying her in every way possible. The past days had been unbearable—constant humiliation, torment, and the overwhelming presence of him.

Alessio.

The monster who held her chains. The devil who enjoyed breaking her, piece by piece.

Her body ached, but it wasn’t just from the fever—it was from the bruises, the nights spent shivering on the cold floor, the cruel punishments whenever she dared to disobey. The collar around her neck was a reminder of her captivity, a leash she could never remove.

She closed her eyes, hoping—praying—for an escape. Even if it was through death.

---

Meanwhile…

Alessio leaned against his desk, swirling the whiskey in his glass, his dark eyes locked onto the flickering flame of the candle. A deep frown creased his forehead as he listened to Enzo’s report.

“She has a fever,” Enzo stated. “The servants said she barely ate today.”

Alessio’s jaw clenched. “And?”

“She might not last if this continues.”

A sharp silence filled the room. Alessio exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple. He had pushed her too far—but why did it matter? She was his. A possession. A pawn.

And yet… the thought of her dying unsettled him.

Alessio sat in his office, the air thick with the scent of whiskey and cigar smoke. The dim light from his desk lamp cast long shadows across the room, mirroring the storm brewing in his chest. His fingers tapped against the polished wood, his expression unreadable as he processed what Enzo had just told him.

She has a fever.

A fever. It shouldn’t matter. She was just another pawn in his game, a means to an end. Yet, the mere thought of her frail body lying in that cold room, trembling and weak, unsettled him in a way he didn’t understand.

He should have expected this. He had been relentless with her—breaking her defiance, bending her to his will. The nights of torment, the punishments, the chains that kept her bound to his world. She had suffered, but she had also fought, even when she had no strength left.

Now, her body was finally giving out.

Alessio scoffed, running a hand through his dark hair. Why should I care?

She was nothing but a spoiled little girl thrown into his world by the debt of her father. He had every right to destroy her. He had sworn to make her regret every second of her existence, to make her beg for mercy that would never come.

And yet, here he was, irritated by the idea of her being too weak to fight back.

He exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. Was it because she was mine to break? My plaything? Or was it because—

His thoughts cut off sharply, and he gritted his teeth.

No. It wasn’t that.

He wouldn’t allow himself to think otherwise.

He slammed his glass onto the desk. “Get the doctor. Now.”

Enzo hesitated for a moment.

“Get the doctor,” he ordered again, his voice cold, his expression even colder.

Enzo hesitated. “Should I move her to a better room?”

Alessio’s gaze snapped up, sharp and deadly. “No.”

She would recover where she was. She would suffer, and she would learn that even when she was weak, there would be no escape.

But deep down, a sliver of unease settled in his chest, one he couldn’t shake.

"understood boss" Enzo nods

As the door closed behind Enzo, Alessio sat back, his fingers tapping against the armrest of his chair. He didn’t understand why he cared. She was nothing.

Then why did the idea of losing her leave a bitter taste in his mouth?