His Queen,Their War

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Alessia's POV

The streets of Sicily always felt like a canvas to me. Every corner painted with colors, every passerby draped in textures that told their own stories. I walked slowly, letting the cobblestones guide my steps, my eyes catching on the shop windows filled with fabrics, mannequins, and delicate designs.

Fashion wasn’t just clothing,it was life, breathing through stitches and hems, whispering through folds of fabric. Ever since I was a little girl, I dreamed of creating pieces that would make people pause, turn their heads, feel something. Not just beauty, but emotion. The kind of dresses that could turn a moment into a memory. I guess Dad and Mom don't care about my dreams.

But dreams often felt fragile, like thread slipping through my fingers. Money was scarce, opportunities even scarcer. I was still just a girl with a sketchbook full of designs, working late nights, hoping one day someone would see me,believe in me and madly support me.

The crisp autumn air carried the faint aroma of roasted chestnuts and espresso from the cafés around the piazza. My hands were tucked into my coat pockets when I stopped suddenly, my eyes pulled to a display.

There it was.A dress.

Displayed on a mannequin in the window of a small boutique, the kind of shop I usually only admired from outside. The fabric shimmered faintly in the light, a deep emerald green with intricate embroidery that traced along the bodice like vines reaching for sunlight. My breath caught.

I had seen beautiful dresses before, but something about this one made my heart skip. The stitching was precise yet alive, the texture rich. It was as if the designer had taken a dream and sewn it into reality.

Almost without thinking, I pushed open the glass door. The bell above chimed softly as I stepped inside.

The shop smelled faintly of lavender and new fabric, the walls lined with racks of dresses and bolts of material stacked neatly. I walked straight toward the mannequin, unable to resist, drawn like a moth to flame.

Reaching out, I let my fingers brush the fabric. It was softer than I expected, smooth yet firm, the embroidery delicate under my touch. I imagined myself behind a table, stitching with that same precision, creating something just as breathtaking. My pulse quickened.

But as I traced the patterns, my nail snagged on a loose thread.

I gasped, trying to pull back quickly, but it was too late. The movement tugged hard at the embroidery, unraveling a small section. A sharp sound tore through the air—the unmistakable rip of fabric.

My stomach dropped.

“No… no, no, no…” I whispered under my breath, staring in horror as a line of stitches came undone, leaving an ugly gap across the design. The dress was ruined.

I froze, panic rising. My fingertips hovered above the damage, trembling. The vibrant, flawless piece that had captured me seconds ago now looked wounded, marred by my careless touch.

Heat flooded my cheeks. My mind spun with excuses, with apologies, but all that came out was silence. I glanced around, praying no one had seen.

The boutique was quiet, the hum of Sicily’s streets muffled beyond the glass. For a heartbeat, I thought maybe,just maybe,I could step back, pretend nothing had happened. I hope no one saw that.

But deep inside, I knew. Mistakes have a way of following you.

And as I stood there, staring at the ruined dress, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that this one would cost me more than I could imagine.

I slowly pulled back but I guess luck wasn’t on my side when the shop worker appeared beside me.

“What have you done?” she gasped, her eyes dropping immediately to the ruined embroidery. Her voice rose sharply, drawing attention. “Dio mio! You’ve destroyed it!”

My cheeks flamed. “I—I didn’t mean to—” I stammered, hands trembling as I tried to step back. “It was an accident, I swear, I just touched—”

Another worker came rushing over, his face twisted with irritation. He grabbed the mannequin and turned it toward him, examining the tear as if it were a crime scene. His glare cut back to me. “Do you know how much this costs?”

I swallowed hard, shaking my head.

“Ten thousand euros,” the woman snapped. “And now it’s worthless.”

My knees nearly buckled. Ten thousand? My entire savings couldn’t cover a fraction of that. “Please… I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to—”

But my words fell uselessly into the air. The man stepped closer, his hand clamping down on my arm. Not harsh enough to hurt, but enough to hold me in place. My pulse raced.

“You’ll have to pay for it,” he said coldly.

“I can’t,” I whispered, panic building in my chest. “I don’t have that kind of money—”

The woman scoffed, tugging the mannequin away. “Then you can explain it to the authorities. We’ll have you arrested.”

Arrested.

The word hit me like a blow. Fear surged through me, not only because of the law but because of what it would mean for the people secretly shadowing me every day. Except… not today. Matteo would never let me out of the house again if he heard this.

My heart sank as realization struck.

I had slipped away while walking,ducked through side streets, quickened my pace until the familiar presence of my quiet guards disappeared. I’d wanted freedom, just for an hour. A chance to breathe without feeling eyes on my back.

And now, when I needed them most… they weren’t here,and it's my fault.

The man tightened his grip when I tried to pull back. “You’re not leaving until you pay.”

“I don’t have it!” My voice cracked, desperation leaking out. “Please, listen to me—it was an accident!”

The commotion drew others from the back, whispers circling like vultures. A woman crossed her arms, muttering something about “irresponsible youth,” while another shook her head in disgust. The humiliation burned worse than the fear.

Then the manager arrived.

He was tall, silver-haired, his suit pressed sharply, his expression carved in stone. His eyes swept the scene before settling on me with cold disdain.

“What is this nonsense?” he demanded.

The worker shoved me slightly forward. “She ruined the emerald embroidery, sir. Claimed it was an accident.”

The manager’s gaze dropped to the damaged dress. His jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring. When he looked back at me, his voice was icy. “You will pay, or I will personally see to it that the police take you away in handcuffs.”

My throat closed. I wanted to scream, to beg, to run,but my feet wouldn’t move. My dream of designing dresses, of being someone in this world, felt crushed beneath the weight of this single mistake.

“I don’t…” My voice broke. “I don’t have it.”

The manager stepped closer, his presence suffocating. “Then prepare yourself. Ruin my merchandise, and I’ll ruin your life.”

Tears stung my eyes, but before I could answer, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Annoyed, he pulled it out, pressing it to his ear without taking his eyes off me.

“Pronto?” he snapped.

Then… silence.

I watched the color drain from his face. His hand trembled slightly as the voice on the other end spoke. I couldn’t hear the words, but the change was instant, terrifying. His arrogance melted into fear. His back straightened.

“Y-yes, of course,” he stammered. “No… no, she will not be touched. I… I understand.”

The workers exchanged confused glances. The manager swallowed, beads of sweat forming at his temple. His eyes flicked to me again, this time wide with something close to dread.

When the call ended, he slipped the phone back into his pocket with a shaky hand. Then, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, he stepped toward me.

“Signorina,” he said softly, almost reverently now, “there has been a misunderstanding. You are free to go.”

I blinked. “What?”

He gestured to the mannequin, his voice faltering. “In fact… please, take the dress. A gift, for the inconvenience.”

The room went silent. The workers stared at him as though he had lost his mind. My own breath caught, disbelief flooding me.

“No,” I whispered quickly, shaking my head. “I—I can’t accept that. I don’t want it.” I lied. But this felt weird.

He nodded furiously, as though agreeing too quickly might save his life. “As you wish, signorina. Please,go.”

I didn’t wait. Heart pounding, I brushed past the stunned employees and pushed out onto the street. The cool air hit me like a wave, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside me. My legs carried me forward, fast, almost running, as I tried to process what had just happened.

I pressed my hand against my chest,my heart racing.Who had called him? Why did fear crawl up in his face when he answered the call?And why did the voice sound so familiar?