VIN’S POV

Walking along the road, I tilt my head slightly and look up at the skyline of downtown Frankfurt. The tall buildings stretch endlessly toward the sky, their glass surfaces reflecting the soft morning light. The weather today is beautiful—perfect, almost suspiciously so. Not sunny enough to burn the skin, not windy enough to ruffle coats and scatter papers through the streets. Just pleasantly mild, the kind of weather most people would enjoy while strolling with friends or loved ones.

For me, it is simply another ordinary day.

I walk this road every day.

It has become a silent routine I follow without fail, something that grounds me in a world that often feels too loud, too overwhelming. I have heard countless stories about wolves—how they love running freely through the forest, feeling the wind through their fur as they sprint beneath towering trees and across endless land. It is supposed to be in our nature.

Yet I prefer walking.

Slow, controlled, and deliberate.

Perhaps the only thing wolves and I truly have in common is our aloofness. Wolves run alone, and I walk alone. There is a strange comfort in that solitude. I enjoy blending into the busy streets, surrounded by strangers who do not know who I am and do not care to find out.

It allows me to disappear.

That is exactly what I want—to be unnoticed, to remain distant from everyone. My dark shades and long overcoat do a good job of hiding my identity, shielding me from curious glances and unnecessary conversations.

And thankfully, Nate—my wolf—has never complained.

Deep down, I know he must have wanted something different. Wolves crave freedom. They crave the thrill of shifting and running through forests with wild abandon, feeling alive in a way humans rarely understand. Nate must have wanted that.

But I never allow it.

Somehow, I have never liked shifting.

It is not because of the pain—although the first few times nearly tore me apart. Over the years, I have grown used to it. Pain, after all, becomes easier to endure when it is familiar.

No… the real reason lies deeper than that.

I think a part of me simply wants to run away from the reality of being a wolf.

My steps come to a halt when I notice my car parked at the corner of the road. The sleek black vehicle stands quietly beside the curb, and Ronny, my driver, waits patiently near it.

He always does.

It is part of our daily routine.

Every morning, we leave my manor together. Ronny drives me toward the office, but he never drops me directly in front of the building. Instead, he stops a few blocks away, allowing me to walk the rest of the distance.

No matter the weather.

In fact, extreme weather oddly brings me comfort. Rainstorms, cold winds, heavy snow—those days are the best. Fewer people are out on the streets, fewer eyes watching.

Fewer people to judge me.

Ronny nods respectfully when he sees me approaching and quickly opens the car door. I slide into the back seat without saying much.

Honestly, I would have preferred walking the remaining distance to the office.

But Valerio—my business partner and best friend—strongly opposes that arrangement.

According to him, people like us must maintain a certain image, a certain status. Company owners should arrive in style, not wandering through streets like ordinary pedestrians.

Sometimes I want to laugh at his ridiculous logic.

Yet, unfortunately, the world agrees with him.

With paparazzi constantly lurking around, searching for gossip or scandals involving wealthy entrepreneurs, I have little choice but to comply. Drawing attention is the last thing I want.

I am the Managing Director of Dream Scrapers Inc., a company founded by my two closest friends and me.

All three of us graduated from Oxford. Back then, we were just young men with ambition and ideas that felt too big for the world we lived in.

In the beginning, things were far from easy.

Mostly because of me.

People tend to have a peculiar reaction when they meet me. Some stare too long. Others avoid me completely. Their expressions often hold the same silent question—why?

Why does he exist?

Our small company began in Brussels, within the boundaries of our estate. At first, it was nothing more than a dream shared between friends. But slowly, project by project, we grew into something far greater.

Still, success never erased the way people looked at me.

I was never truly welcomed in our social circle.

Whenever I entered a room, the atmosphere subtly shifted. Conversations quieted. Eyes followed me cautiously, as if I were something unnatural, something that should not exist.

And honestly…

I cannot entirely blame them.

I do not know why my parents—more precisely, my mother—chose to bring me into this world when she knew how my future would unfold. Perhaps she was blinded by the overwhelming joy of becoming a mother. Perhaps she believed love would somehow protect me from everything else.

Sometimes I wish she had stopped for a moment and truly thought about what she was stepping into.

But despite everything, I cannot bring myself to hate her.

My mother is the best mother anyone could ask for.

She is kind, patient, and endlessly compassionate. Even when the world turned its back on me, she never did. She raised me alone, carrying the burden of both parents without ever complaining.

My father was never truly there for us.

Yet my mother always made sure I did not grow up hating him. She protected his image in my eyes, convincing me he was simply busy, simply distant.

What she forgot was that I would not remain her innocent little boy forever.

One day, I would grow up.

One day, I would see the truth for myself.

Sometimes, I wish I had remained that small boy—too naive to understand the cruelty of this world.

As time passed, I began to realize something important.

Perhaps none of this was truly anyone’s fault.

Perhaps it was simply destiny.

Maybe God wrote my fate on a day when he was in a particularly sour mood because hatred is the emotion I have received most in my life.

At least two things are clear to me now.

People hate me.

And in return…

I hate the world.

“Sir, we are here.”

Ronny’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I blink and realize the car has already reached the basement parking of our building.

He steps out quickly and opens the door for me.

I walk toward the elevator and press the button for my private floor. This lift is accessible only to three people—Valerio, Waldo, and me.

Waldo is our third partner. He manages our main branch in Brussels, our home country. Valerio and I handle the Frankfurt office, focusing on expanding the business internationally.

“Vincenzo.”

The moment I step out of the elevator, I hear Valerio calling my name.

He stands near the reception area, clearly waiting for me. His hopeful expression immediately tells me something is coming.

I already feel the urge to roll my eyes.

“Speak,” I say flatly.

He clears his throat awkwardly.

“Ahem… you have to go to Germany tomorrow.”

I stare at him.

He nervously chews the inside of his cheek because he already knows what I am thinking.

First, I hate traveling.

Crowds irritate me.

Second, I dislike one-on-one meetings. I prefer working behind the scenes where strategies are created, not presented.

Most meetings are handled by Valerio and Waldo. They serve as CEOs of their respective branches, while I focus on the analytical side of the business.

But every position comes with responsibilities.

Being the Managing Director means that sometimes, when they cannot attend important meetings, I must step in.

They always try their best to avoid putting me in that position.

Still, there are moments when they have no other choice.

I close my eyes and release a slow breath through my nose.

“Send me the details.”

Before he can say anything else, I walk toward my cabin.

Behind me, I hear Valerio whispering dramatic words of gratitude to God, which only makes me roll my eyes again.

Inside my office, Isa Carlo—my assistant—enters quietly behind me.

The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the room, and a hot espresso sits neatly on my desk.

I am grateful to have Isa around.

She is disciplined, efficient, and incredibly hardworking. She is currently pursuing her MBA while working here full-time. Despite attending several classes each week, she manages both responsibilities flawlessly.

Twice a week she leaves early for her lectures, but she always finishes her work beforehand.

I admire that level of dedication.

She is equally admirable on a personal level.

Isa is not overly talkative and always maintains professional boundaries. Her clothing style reflects the same personality—modest, elegant, and appropriate.

We share a respectful working relationship.

She respects my privacy, and I respect hers.

Most of what I know about her comes from Valerio’s endless chatter. Sometimes I suspect he has feelings for her.

Though strangely, he behaves the exact opposite.

He often teases her or criticizes her unnecessarily. Once, I had to scold him, reminding him that she works directly under me and he has no right to disrespect her.

He refused to speak to me for the entire day afterward.

Later, however, I found him sitting quietly in my office, sulking like a child.

Truthfully, the two of us cannot stay angry at each other for long.

“Sir, this is the file for the Berlin project,” Isa says, handing it over.

She raises an eyebrow as if she already knows I have agreed.

“I knew you would say yes,” she adds. “Mr. Valerio and Mr. Waldo both have prior commitments. That leaves only you.”

She shrugs lightly.

“You may leave, Miss Carlo,” I say as I open the file.

“Thank you, sir. And one more thing—I have informed Angelica’s aunt about your trip. She will prepare your luggage since you are leaving tonight.”

I nod.

Angelica Aunty used to work at my grandfather’s house, but she was always close to my mother. When my mother left after her marriage, Angelica chose to go with her.

She never wanted my mother to be alone.

Now my mother has sent her here so that I will not feel alone either.

But people often forget something important.

Loneliness does not come from empty houses.

It lives deep inside the heart.

And no one can truly remove it.

After finishing my work and reviewing the documents, I glance at the clock.

Two o’clock already.

Time passes strangely fast inside this office.

I walk toward the large glass window overlooking the city. From this height, the people below look like tiny ants moving through endless streets.

My thoughts drift toward the upcoming trip.

For some reason…

I feel uneasy.

I press a hand against my chest.

My heartbeat feels irregular, slightly faster than usual. A strange restlessness spreads through my body like an invisible warning.

It is not work.

Work has never unsettled me like this.

Inside my mind, Nate is restless too.

My wolf paces back and forth without direction, as if sensing something I cannot yet understand.

I do not know why…

But my instincts—my sixth sense—are screaming at me.

Something is about to happen.

Something important.

Something that will change everything.

But the question remains…

What?

**

VIN’S POV

By the time I reached the hotel, the night had already settled heavily over the city. The streets outside were glowing under rows of streetlights, and the glass walls of the tall buildings reflected the quiet elegance of the late evening.

My driver stopped at the entrance, and the moment I stepped out, the doorman greeted me politely and opened the large glass doors.

The lobby was extravagant—far more than I had expected.

Marble floors reflected the golden chandelier light above, and the air smelled faintly of expensive perfume mixed with fresh flowers placed carefully on every table. Soft piano music floated through the air, creating an atmosphere of calm luxury.

I sighed internally.

Valerio.

Only he would think it necessary to book a place like this.

I checked in at the reception and took the key card from the receptionist before heading toward the elevator. Within minutes I reached my floor and walked down the long hallway until I found my room.

The executive suite.

Sliding the card into the lock, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The moment I entered, I paused and slowly looked around.

The room was huge.

A spacious living area opened in front of me, decorated with modern furniture, a large glass window overlooking the city, and a bedroom further inside separated by elegant sliding doors. Everything in the room screamed luxury—from the plush carpet beneath my shoes to the soft ambient lighting along the walls.

I shook my head in disbelief.

“Seriously, Valerio?” I muttered under my breath.

Why spend this much money on a hotel room when a normal one would have been perfectly fine?

I was never someone who cared about luxury.

A bed was a bed.

A room was a room.

But Valerio always insisted on maintaining “standards.”

Huffing quietly, I placed my phone on the side table and loosened the collar of my shirt.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

When I opened the door, the bellboy stood outside with my luggage. I stepped aside to let him in, and he placed the bags neatly near the wardrobe before giving me a polite smile.

“Anything else you need, sir?”

“No,” I replied, handing him a generous tip.

He thanked me and left.

Once the door closed again, silence filled the room.

For a moment, I simply stood there, staring at nothing.

The exhaustion from the flight slowly began creeping into my body.

Since it was already late, I decided not to waste time. I walked straight to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and let the warm water wash away the fatigue of the journey.

The hot water relaxed my stiff muscles, and for a few minutes, I simply stood under the stream, letting my thoughts drift aimlessly.

When I stepped out of the shower, I changed into comfortable clothes and grabbed my laptop from my bag.

Even though I was tired, work always came first.

Sitting on the couch, I opened my emails and began checking them one by one. Several messages from different branches had arrived during the flight, along with updates from the Frankfurt office.

My meeting was scheduled for seven in the morning.

Which meant I needed proper rest.

After replying to the important emails and reviewing a few documents, I finally shut the laptop.

My eyes drifted toward the large bed in the bedroom.

Soft.

Comfortable.

Inviting.

It felt like the bed was practically calling my name.

Since I had already eaten dinner during the flight, I did not need to order anything. So without wasting another moment, I turned off the lights and slid beneath the covers.

Within minutes, sleep claimed me.

________________________________________

The next morning arrived far too quickly.

I woke up to the faint sunlight slipping through the curtains.

After getting ready and dressing for the meeting, I stood in front of the mirror, buttoning my vest coat while adjusting the collar.

Just then, my phone rang.

A small smile formed on my lips the moment I saw the caller ID.

Mama.

I picked up immediately.

“Hey, Mama.”

“Hello to you too, Vincenzo. How are you, my son?” she said warmly.

Hearing her voice after three days felt… comforting.

“I called you yesterday,” I complained lightly. “You didn’t pick up.”

“I know,” she replied with a cheerful laugh. “I was busy with my friends. You know we came to Via Brabançonne, and Vincenzo, it is so beautiful here. I wish you were here with me.”

I could practically imagine the small pout on her lips.

My mother was forty-five years old.

But sometimes she sounded like an excited teenager discovering the world for the first time.

She had conceived me when she was only eighteen.

And somehow…

I have always pitied her.

Her youth had been stolen from her because of a single night—one incident that changed the lives of several people forever.

And I was the result of that night.

She always says I am the best thing that ever happened to her.

But deep down…

I know that is not true.

Because of that pregnancy and the sudden marriage that followed—a marriage that existed only in name—she never completed her studies.

My maternal grandfather knew the truth.

He knew my father never accepted the relationship.

So, before he passed away, he ensured my mother would never depend on anyone. He gifted her a beautiful house where I grew up and left her his school to manage.

That school became her entire life.

She buried herself in work there.

And raised me alone.

But even after all these years…

She still blames herself.

I have seen her cry when she thought no one was watching.

She believes she destroyed her sister’s life.

That night, my uncle had given juice to both my parents—juice laced with drugs.

Under the influence, they committed a mistake that none of them could undo.

My mother still believes she is the homewrecker of her own sister.

And in a twisted way… she is not entirely wrong.

Because when I was born, my father was forced to divorce my aunt—my mother’s elder sister—and marry my mother.

But the marriage meant nothing.

My father left the country soon after.

Like a coward.

Leaving behind a pregnant wife and a broken family.

My mother fought every battle alone.

And I grew up watching her struggle.

She shaped me into the man I am today.

But she could never teach me how to remove the darkness that kept growing inside my heart.

Outwardly, I learned how to smile.

How to act normal.

But inside…

My wounds never healed.

They simply spread.

Slowly.

Quietly.

Like poison.

That is why I stay away from people.

Relationships only bring pain.

The only people I allow close to me are my mother, Valerio, and Waldo.

And… Lorenzo.

My elder brother.

Technically, he is not my real brother.

But in every way that matters, he is.

We were never very close while growing up, but we never hated each other either.

Everything changed when the truth came out about my uncle.

When Lorenzo discovered who had truly ruined our family.

After that day, he began treating me differently.

Warmer.

Kinder.

He openly declared his love for me and never missed a chance to show his affection.

Sometimes it feels strange.

But also… comforting.

He is one of the few people who has ever made me feel that my existence is not a mistake.

Even though I rarely return his calls, he still checks on me from time to time.

I know he is trying to fix the broken bond between us.

But I do not know if I am capable of that.

“Vincenzo, you should get married,” my mother suddenly said.

There it was.

The same topic again.

“I will always need you, Mom,” I murmured softly.

It hurt whenever she said I did not need her anymore.

Because the truth was the opposite.

She was the only person I wanted around me.

But she sighed.

“You need a woman in your life now, my son.”

Guilt twisted inside me.

Once, during an argument, I told her I had rejected my mate.

It broke her heart.

But it also stopped her from asking questions.

Because the truth is simple.

If I ever find my mate…

I will reject her.

Without hesitation.

“Mom, I have a meeting in fifteen minutes,” I said gently. “I will call you later. Love you.”

Before she could continue the conversation, I ended the call.

Taking one last look at myself in the mirror, I left the room.

________________________________________

The meeting went surprisingly well.

The client seemed pleased with the proposal, and by the end of the discussion, he invited me for drinks that evening.

Which I absolutely hated.

Social gatherings.

Crowds.

Pointless conversations.

But he was an important client.

So, I agreed.

Back in my room later, I packed my bags since I planned to leave right after the drinks.

When I reached the hotel bar, however, they informed me that the group had moved to the club owned by the hotel.

Great.

Clubs.

Exactly what I needed.

The moment I stepped inside, loud music slammed into my ears, and flashing lights illuminated the crowded dance floor.

And then—

A scent hit my nostrils.

Sharp.

Sweet.

Overpowering.

Nate instantly stirred inside me.

Restless.

Uneasy.

I frowned slightly and looked around, trying to locate the source.

But the club was too crowded.

People were everywhere.

Dancing.

Laughing.

Drinking.

The atmosphere was suffocating.

Crowds have always irritated me.

My calm control can easily snap under too many people.

And Nate was not helping either.

Still, I somehow managed to keep my composure while entertaining the client.

Honestly, I almost wanted to reward myself for that level of patience.

While sipping my drink, my eyes scanned the room.

Couples danced together under the neon lights.

They looked happy.

Too happy.

I often wondered what they talked about.

What made them smile like that.

Because most of it was probably fake.

Yet… something unexpected happened.

Amid all the chaos…

A voice reached my ears.

Soft.

Calm.

Soothing.

Nate instantly focused on it.

And strangely…

So, did I.

Something about that voice pulled at me.

Every instinct inside me wanted to find its owner.

But I could not leave the client.

Meanwhile, the mysterious scent kept hitting my senses like a missile.

My hands trembled slightly.

Sweat formed on my palms.

The only thing keeping me calm was the alcohol.

So, I had two more drinks.

Throughout the night, I felt something strange.

Someone was watching me.

I could feel it.

A constant gaze.

Every time I turned to look—

Nothing.

No one suspicious.

Yet the feeling never disappeared.

Strangely, for the first time in a crowded place…

I was not completely irritated.

Something was calming me.

Maybe the alcohol.

Maybe that voice.

Maybe… something else.

Finally, I stood up and said goodbye to the client.

Nate protested instantly.

For the first time, he did not want to leave.

But I was done.

My mind had already checked out hours ago.

So, I ignored him.

I walked out of the club.

But the moment I stepped outside…

An unexpected emptiness spread through my chest.

Like something important had just slipped away.

I frowned slightly.

“What is this feeling…?”

*

GIA’S POV

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I let out a long, sleepy yawn while staring at the stack of photographs resting in my hands. The pile felt endless, each glossy picture representing yet another “perfect” man chosen carefully from different packs around the world.

Handsome faces.

Perfect physiques.

Charming smiles.

Every single one of them looked like someone women would easily fall for.

But strangely… my eyes refused to linger on any of them.

With little interest, I kept flipping through the photos one after another, the glossy paper sliding between my fingers as if they meant nothing at all. My eyelids felt heavy, and another tired yawn escaped my lips. My eyes watered slightly from the exhaustion that still clung to my body.

I had returned from my world tour only last night, and the fatigue of traveling from one city to another had finally caught up with me.

All I wanted right now was sleep.

Deep, peaceful sleep.

“Just a few more…” I muttered softly to myself as I hurried through the remaining photographs.

The faces blurred together.

None of them stirred anything inside my heart.

Speeding up, I tossed most of the pictures aside carelessly and walked toward my favorite place in the world—my large, comfy, fluffy bed. The soft mattress practically called out to my tired body.

Without hesitation, I jumped onto it, landing on my stomach as the mattress dipped slightly under my weight.

A soft sigh escaped my lips as I hugged the pillow beneath me. In my hand, I still held a few remaining photographs of these so-called heartthrobs that my father had carefully selected for me.

My eyes lazily skimmed through them.

One.

Two.

Three.

Then suddenly—

My hand froze.

My eyes had already moved to the next picture when something inside me stirred, making me pause. A strange feeling tugged at my chest, forcing me to go back.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, I reached out and picked up the picture I had just skipped.

I placed the others aside and brought the photograph closer to my face.

For a moment… everything around me felt still.

It felt like he was staring directly into my soul.

My breath caught in my throat.

A strange sensation washed over me, as if someone had suddenly reached into my chest and stolen the air from my lungs.

There was nothing extraordinary about the picture itself. No dramatic pose. No forced smile.

But his eyes…

Those eyes held something I had never seen before.

They carried a depth of emotions that words could never explain.

Longing.

Loneliness.

Pain.

And something else… something I could not quite name.

They looked like the eyes of someone who had seen too much of the world but had never spoken about it.

My fingers tightened slightly around the photograph.

Why was I feeling this?

Why did this stranger’s eyes make my heart react this way?

I had seen countless men throughout my life—handsome Alphas, charming princes, powerful warriors.

Many had approached me.

Many had tried to win my attention.

But none of them had ever managed to make my heart react the way this simple photograph just did.

Not once.

I have never entered a relationship before.

Not because I disliked the idea of love… but because I had never truly felt connected to anyone.

Something had always been missing.

But today…

Today something felt different.

For the very first time, my heart whispered a possibility.

Maybe… just maybe… it had found the person those longing eyes were searching for.

“If he is meant for me,” I murmured softly, tracing the edge of the photograph with my finger, “then God will guide me to him.”

And strangely enough…

I believed it.

A small smirk slowly formed on my lips as I continued staring at his handsome face.

“Will you be my man?” I whispered playfully.

The one I want to touch.

The one whose touch I want to feel.

The one whose eyes I want to understand.

Without another thought, I tossed the remaining pictures onto my side table.

They no longer mattered.

Only one picture remained in my hand.

His.

Leaning back against the headboard, I rested my head on the pillow behind me while continuing to gaze at his face.

My eyes slowly began to grow heavier.

The exhaustion I had been fighting all morning finally began to win.

I do not even remember when my eyes closed.

The last thing I remember seeing…

Was his face.

And then I drifted quietly into dreamland.

________________________________________

“Gia.”

A distant voice slowly reached my ears through the fog of sleep.

I stirred slightly under my blanket.

“Gia, sweetheart.”

My father’s gentle voice pulled me further out of my dream.

“Papa…” I mumbled drowsily, my voice barely audible. “Let me sleep a little longer.”

A soft chuckle escaped him.

“Darling, look at the time. It is already two in the afternoon.”

His warm hand gently stroked my hair, a familiar gesture that had comforted me since childhood.

Slowly, I opened my eyes.

The first thing I saw was my father’s loving gaze.

“Good morning,” I said lazily, smiling at him.

My father.

Otello Bianchi.

The Alpha of our pack.

Our pack is known as one of the strongest in the world, and my father is respected not only as a powerful leader but also as one of the kindest Alphas anyone could ever meet.

And me?

I am Gia Bianchi.

His daughter.

His entire world.

“Do not look at me like that,” I said softly when I noticed the faint sadness hiding behind his eyes.

I knew that look very well.

He must be thinking that I had rejected all the boys again.

But this time…

Things were different.

My father raised me single-handedly.

My mother passed away while giving birth to me, and since that day, it had always been just the two of us against the world.

My grandparents believed I was a bad omen for the family.

They blamed me for my mother’s death.

But my father never once believed that.

To him, I was not a curse.

I was his miracle.

His blessing from heaven.

“You like him?” Papa suddenly asked.

His eyes sparkled with curiosity as he noticed the photograph lying on my bed.

I followed his gaze.

The same picture was still resting beside me.

I nodded slowly, a playful smirk appearing on my lips.

“Now would you like to tell me who he is?” I asked, leaning comfortably against the headboard.

My father glanced at the photograph again before answering.

“He is Vincenzo Accardi,” he said calmly. “Brother of King Lorenzo Accardi.”

I nodded thoughtfully.

But then I noticed his smile fading slightly.

Lorenzo Accardi was not a stranger to our world.

He was the Alpha of the Red Moon pack and one of the most respected leaders across the werewolf world.

Everyone admired him.

Being part of royal bloodlines, I had met him a few times during gatherings and ceremonies.

We were not close, but I knew enough to understand that their family valued privacy more than anything.

My father was a werewolf.

But my mother had been human.

Which meant…

I was human too.

At least mostly.

I had inherited a few werewolf traits, but when I failed to shift on my eighteenth birthday, it confirmed what everyone had already suspected.

I would never have a wolf.

I remember seeing the brief disappointment in my father’s eyes that day.

But it lasted only a moment.

Soon after, he hugged me and told me he was relieved.

Relieved that I could live a peaceful human life away from pack politics.

My father always found light in every situation.

He was the most positive person I had ever known.

“What?” I asked when I noticed his serious expression.

“Sweetheart,” he said gently, “there is something you should know before we proceed with this alliance.”

I nodded for him to continue.

“He is Lorenzo’s brother… but not from the same mother.”

He paused briefly before continuing.

“He is his stepbrother.”

I remained silent, waiting.

“He lives in Frankfurt,” Papa explained. “And he does not like royal life at all.”

His voice softened slightly.

“And… he did not have an easy childhood.”

Something tightened inside my chest.

“We do not know the entire story,” my father continued. “Their family protects their privacy very carefully. But from what little we know… it was not easy for him.”

Hearing that made my heart ache unexpectedly.

What had he gone through?

Why did life treat him that way?

“Lorenzo and Vincenzo share a good relationship,” Papa added thoughtfully. “At least… I believe they do.”

“But Papa,” I said gently, “why does that matter? I am marrying him, not anyone else.”

He smiled faintly.

“What I mean is,” he explained, “most girls dream of marrying an Alpha or a prince… living a royal life filled with luxury and power.”

He looked at me warmly.

“I have never forced you into anything, Gia. I just want you to think carefully.”

And in that moment…

I understood him.

This man sitting in front of me had given his entire life for me.

He had been both my mother and my father.

There were moments when I needed a mother.

Like the day I got my first period.

I had run to him in panic, thinking something was terribly wrong.

But he had not panicked.

Instead, he sat beside me calmly and explained everything with patience and care.

He even taught me how to use sanitary pads.

He had done everything for me.

Everything.

I might not be fully ready for marriage yet…

But I knew one thing for sure.

It was my father’s dream to see me settled.

And I would do anything to make him smile.

“Papa,” I said softly, meeting his eyes, “you know me. I never cared about royal life.”

He listened quietly.

“I have always fulfilled my responsibilities, but if I ever get the chance… I would prefer a peaceful life away from all the politics.”

I glanced down at the photograph again.

“I want to meet him.”

A warm smile slowly spread across my father’s face.

“I like him very much,” Papa admitted. “He is hardworking and respected. He built his own reputation.”

His eyes softened.

“I would be proud to see you two married.”

“Then arrange the meeting,” I said with a grin before he could continue giving a long lecture.

He laughed softly and stood up.

“Freshen up and come downstairs,” he said. “Let us have lunch together. Meanwhile, I will speak with the Alpha.”

As he left the room, I leaned back against the pillow and picked up the photograph again.

My eyes slowly traced his face.

“Let’s see, Vincenzo Accardi…”

A small smile curved my lips.

“What destiny has planned for us.”

**