A Dangerous Peace

The morning after felt too still.

Emilia lay awake in Alessandro's bed, the soft sheets tangled around her bare legs, the scent of him clinging to her skin like a warning. He was already gone — slipped out before sunrise like a ghost in his own empire.

And yet his presence lingered in every corner of the penthouse.

She should feel ashamed. Afraid. But instead, all she felt was... changed.

Last night hadn't been soft or romantic. It had been wild, chaotic — a collision of everything they weren't supposed to be. And it only left her with more questions.

Who was she now?

What was she to him?

She rose slowly, wrapping a silk robe around her as she wandered into the kitchen. Breakfast waited for her — delivered silently, luxuriously, like everything else in his world. Next to the tray sat a folded note:

"Rest. Don't run. — A."

She rolled her eyes, but her stomach still flipped at the sight of his handwriting.

Moments later, her phone buzzed.

A message from her mother.

"Come home. We need to talk. Now."

The drive back to Rosefield felt like waking from a dream into a memory. Emilia stepped into the quiet house, only to find her mother already waiting — tense, pale, holding a newspaper.

The front page made Emilia freeze.

MORETTI HEIR STRIKES BACK — Blood Returns to Blood

Below the headline, a blurred photo of Alessandro. And beside it — her. Caught mid-step outside the penthouse.

"They know," her mother whispered. "They know you're with him."

Emilia sat down, the room spinning.

"You said we left this life. That we were safe."

Her mother's voice broke. "We were. But love has a way of dragging you right back into the fire."

"I didn't plan this."

"No one ever does."

For a long moment, silence stretched between them. Then Emilia asked the one question she feared most.

"Did you love my father?"

Her mother's eyes welled with tears. "I loved who he was... before the war turned him into a monster."

Emilia closed her eyes.

And all she could see was Alessandro.

Back in the city, Alessandro stared at the same newspaper headline, his jaw clenched.

She was exposed now.

Which meant she wasn't just under his protection anymore.

She was officially at war with her last name.

And in his world... that meant blood.