The silence in Lorenzo’s study was deafening, the kind that wrapped around your throat and squeezed. Alessia stood like a statue near the grand window, arms crossed tightly over her chest, while Lorenzo paced like a caged predator, every step echoing across the cold marble floor.
“You lied to me,” he said finally, voice low, sharp. “Again.”
Alessia didn’t flinch. “I protected myself.”
“From me?” He stopped pacing, turning toward her. “After everything—”
“You’ve been lying too, Lorenzo.” Her eyes met his, dark and gleaming. “Don’t act like I’m the only one with secrets.”
His jaw clenched. The air between them was too thick with tension, pain, and something more volatile. Betrayal lingered like smoke after a fire—bitter, choking, impossible to ignore.
“You knew who I was,” he said, sof
