ALESSIO

My phone buzzes in my pocket as I step out of the bar.

The night air is sharp, slicing straight through the haze clouding my brain.

I pull it out, thumb already swiping across the screen. And then I freeze.

Sophie’s name.

Her message.

You need to tell me everything.

My chest tightens.

Everything?

What the hell does she mean?

Is this about the fight? The pregnancy?

The women from the café?

Or something else I’m too stupid to see coming?

I call her immediately, heart hammering against my ribs.

Straight to voicemail.

Fuck.

I shove my phone in my pocket and take off down the sidewalk, practically sprinting toward the apartment. Every step feels heavier than the last.

When I finally burst through the door, Sophie’s sitting at the kitchen table, motionless.

Her face is pale. Her hands tight in her lap.

An envelope lies open beside her.

The air in the room feels wrong. Too still, too sharp.

"You need to start talking." Her voice is clipped but trembling.

My throat feels sandpaper dry.

I walk closer, slowly, like she might bolt if I move too fast.

"I’ve been getting notes. Anonymous. Threats. Stuff slid under doors. A few months ago... I thought someone was following me."

She flinches, almost imperceptibly.

"And the gala?"

I nod stiffly. "That wasn’t random. It wasn’t isolated. I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to—"

"You didn’t want to worry me. But you don’t get to decide what I can handle."

Her voice cracks on the last word, and it guts me worse than anything else could.

Because she’s right.

And I’ve been wrong in every way that matters.

I drag a hand through my hair, searching for words that don’t make me sound even more like a coward.

"It wasn’t about controlling you. It was about protecting you. The only way I knew how."

Her arms are crossed tight over her chest, but she doesn’t interrupt.

"I’ve made mistakes. I know that. But I didn’t want you to be dragged down by them… or worse."

Her mouth softens, but she doesn’t back down.

"I was already dragged in," she says quietly, fiercely. "I chose to be. That’s what love is, Alessio. Showing up for the storm, not just the sunshine."

We sit there for a long moment, the weight of it all pressing down.

Sophie breaks the silence first. "What do we do now?"

I scrub a hand over my face. "First, I need to figure out who’s behind this."

I pull out my phone and dial Nikolai.

He picks up on the second ring. "Problem?"

"Yeah. A big one."

The conversation is tense but productive. I lay it out, every note, every shadow that’s followed me.

"No one from our side’s broken protection code," Nikolai says without hesitation. "If this isn’t Bratva, then you’ve got a rogue player. And I’ll help you find out who."

We start going through the timeline together, me pacing while Sophie listens, arms folded but eyes sharp.

I recount every note. Every incident.

There’s a pattern.

Nothing concrete yet.

But it’s there.

And whoever’s behind this isn’t going to stop.

Later, Sophie insists on doubling the security around the apartment.

She doesn’t ask. She doesn’t negotiate.

She just tells me.

And for once, I don’t push back.

She makes the calls to James to set it up. Cameras. Extra patrols. Reinforced locks.

But even with all the precautions, the space between us feels bigger than ever.

She doesn’t ask me to stay in her bed.

I don’t try to force my way into it.

Instead, I crash on the couch, staring up at the cracked ceiling while the city hums far below.

I lie there, wide awake, thinking of every choice that brought us to this moment.

Every time, I thought protecting her meant keeping her in the dark.

Every chance I had to be better…and chose fear instead.

And somewhere in the pit of my stomach, I know the real battle hasn’t even begun yet.

My phone buzzes against the coffee table.

A new message.

Dad: We need to talk. Now.

I sit up straight, heart hammering against my ribs.

Before I can overthink it, I call him.

He picks up on the first ring.

"Alessio," he says, voice low but not harsh.

"What's going on?"

"I heard about the threats. James filled me in."

I lean forward, elbows on my knees.

Sophie must've told James about the new security, and James must've told Dad.

"I'm handling it."

"You're not handling it alone anymore. You need to come home. Back to Tuscany."

I open my mouth, but he cuts me off.

"This isn’t negotiable. You’re useless to Sophie if you’re dead. Besides, you coming home doesn’t mean giving up. It means making sure you live long enough to have something real. You’ve already built a life worth protecting. Don’t be stupid enough to lose it now."

I clench my jaw, the words sinking deep, scraping against every stubborn instinct in my body.

"You’re stronger with us behind you," my father says. "And so is she."

His meaning is clear. It isn't just about me anymore. It never was.

The line goes dead before I can even argue.

And I sit there in the dark, staring at my phone, certain that whether I’m ready or not, my life is about to change.