Rain slammed against the windows of the De Luca estate like an omen — sharp, merciless, and cold. Thunder cracked above the mansion like the sky itself was splitting in two.
Alessia stood barefoot on the marble floor, the storm soaking her from the midnight escape she hadn’t planned. Her dress clung to her like second skin, heavy and cold, but it was the fire inside her that made her tremble.
Across the room, Lorenzo sat behind his massive desk, his tailored shirt stained with dried blood and ash. His hands were steady, his expression cold. Only his eyes betrayed him — a flicker of guilt, of darkness, of something so old and twisted it didn’t have a name.
“You used me,” she said finally, voice raw.
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. “I gave you exactly what you wanted. Freedom. Purpose. Po
