Valerio POV

I stand at the main gate of the company, my patience slowly burning away with every passing second.

The winter air is cold, sharp enough to bite the skin, but the chill does nothing to cool the irritation simmering inside me. My eyes remain fixed on the entrance, watching every person who walks out, waiting for one particular girl.

Isa.

My jaw tightens.

I had told her-very clearly-that I would drop her to college today.

Yet the girl seems to have developed a habit of ignoring my words.

A dangerous habit.

My fingers curl slowly into fists inside the pockets of my coat.

If she leaves for college without listening to me today... she will learn exactly why people think twice before crossing me.

The lift doors slide open.

And there she is.

A slow smirk spreads across my face.

She walks timidly toward the main door, her head slightly lowered, eyes glued to the floor as if the tiles beneath her feet are more interesting than the world around her.

For some reason, the sight pleases me.

She is not looking at anyone.

Not at the men passing by.

Not at the people greeting her.

Her attention remains entirely on the ground in front of her.

Good.

The moment her eyes lift and land on my car, recognition flashes across her face.

She hesitates for a moment before slowly walking toward it.

She reaches the car.

And opens the back door.

My eyes close slowly.

A pulse of irritation runs through me.

"What do you think?" I ask coldly, my voice laced with sarcasm. "Am I your driver, Your Highness?"

She freezes like a child caught doing something wrong.

Realization dawns across her face almost instantly.

She quickly shuts the back door and rushes around the car before opening the passenger door and slipping into the seat beside me.

I start the car without another word.

The silence inside the vehicle is thick.

Heavy.

Every time I speak harshly to her, something inside me twists with guilt.

But when it comes to Isa... I lose control.

And I hate losing control.

The car fills with the loud, irritating beeping of the seatbelt warning.

It continues.

Louder.

More persistent.

Yet Isa sits beside me completely lost in her own thoughts.

She does not move.

Does not react.

Does not even seem to hear it.

My grip tightens on the steering wheel.

Finally, I slam the brakes.

The car jerks to an abrupt stop.

She gasps softly and looks at me in confusion.

First at me.

Then outside.

Then back at me again.

Her brows knit together as if she genuinely has no idea what just happened.

Unbelievable.

When she still does not understand, I lean toward her.

Her reaction is immediate.

Her eyes widen, and she presses herself back into the seat, startled by the sudden closeness.

A dark smile forms on my lips.

Oh... this is interesting.

Slowly-deliberately-I reach for the seatbelt.

Instead of simply fastening it, I pull it slowly across her body.

My arm brushes against her chest.

My breath grazes the delicate skin of her neck.

Her entire body goes rigid.

Her breath catches.

Her chest rises sharply, as if she suddenly forgot how breathing works.

For a moment, she stops moving entirely.

I can almost hear the frantic beating of her heart.

Satisfied, I click the belt into place and lean back into my seat.

"I didn't realize I had hired deaf staff," I say lazily as I resume driving. "Didn't you hear the seatbelt warning?"

Her cheeks flush instantly.

"I-I am sorry," she stammers. "I was just thinking about my final exams."

"Didn't you prepare?" I ask.

"No! No, sir. I did," she says quickly. "I just have... pre-exam jitters."

She fidgets nervously with the strap of her bag.

"I always get nervous before exams," she continues. "Do you ever get nervous before exams, sir? Oh... I am sure you do not."

She answers her own question quickly.

I glance at her.

This is the most I have ever heard her speak.

Normally she is quiet.

Reserved.

Careful with every word.

But today she is talking endlessly.

Her nerves are clearly unravelling her composure.

"You know," she continues softly, "I even tried for the Oxford entrance exam once... but I couldn't clear it."

She makes a small sad face.

Something tightens in my chest.

We reach the college shortly after.

I stop the car near the entrance.

She stares at the gate ahead of her like a soldier about to walk into battle.

Her fingers twist together anxiously.

She looks fragile.

Too fragile.

"Ahem... I think I should go?" she says softly.

"Isa."

She turns toward me instantly.

Those innocent eyes meet mine.

"Don't be nervous," I say quietly. "You'll do well."

"You think so?" she asks.

"Yes."

Without thinking, I take her hand in mine.

Her palm is warm.

Soft.

"I'll be here waiting," I say.

Her eyes widen slightly.

"You'll wait?"

"Yes."

Then, before I can stop myself, I lean forward and press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Good luck."

She leaves the car in a daze.

I watch her until she disappears inside the building.

A smile tugs at my lips.

The girl who once avoided even my shadow allowed me to kiss her today.

God.

This girl will destroy me one day.

________________________________________

My mind drifts back to the first time I saw her.

She was sitting at a desk, completely absorbed in her work when I returned from Kenya.

Her hair was tied neatly in a ponytail.

Her posture straight.

Her attention entirely on the papers in front of her.

She did not even notice me standing there.

Which irritated me.

"Who are you?" I asked.

She looked up calmly.

"And may I ask who you are here to meet?"

I stared at her.

"You don't know me?"

"I suppose not," she replied politely.

That stung.

"Valerio Barone," I said slowly.

Her eyes widened.

"Oh! I am sorry. I am new here."

She smiled.

And that smile-

God.

It was the most innocent thing I had ever seen.

Like a child.

Like something untouched by the ugliness of the world.

Mine.

The thought came out of nowhere.

I pushed it away immediately.

But the attraction had already taken root.

And it grew.

Every single day.

I tried avoiding her.

I insulted her.

I pushed her away.

But she kept smiling.

Somewhere along the way, her smile became my weakness.

Now if I do not see her for a single day, I lose my mind.

I even assigned one of my men to watch her.

To follow her.

To report every movement, she makes.

Sometimes I think I have become insane.

But the idea of not knowing where she is...

Who she is with...

What she is doing...

Drives me mad.

________________________________________

Students begin walking out of the campus.

And then I see her.

But she is not alone.

A man has his arm resting casually on her shoulder.

My blood turns to fire.

Rage explodes inside my chest.

Who the hell is he?

Why didn't my man report this?

She notices me.

Immediately she removes his hand and walks toward me.

The man follows.

"Sir... you're still here?" she asks.

I ignore the question.

"How was the exam?"

"I think I answered three questions wrong," she says sadly.

I scoff internally.

Three wrong answers.

"Don't worry. You will not fail because of three mistakes."

I sit in the car and look at her.

She is still standing outside.

With him.

"Do you need a special invitation?" I ask coldly.

"Umm... sir, I do not want to trouble you. He's, my friend. He lives near my house. He can drop me."

The idiot waves at me.

I ignore him.

"I don't like repeating myself," I say quietly.

My tone leaves no room for argument.

She quickly says goodbye to him and sits inside the car.

I start the engine.

And drive away.

But inside me-

A violent storm is already brewing.

Because now I want to know one thing.

Exactly who the hell that man was.

And why his hand was on my girl.

*

VINCENZO POV

It has been a few weeks since I last spoke to Mom.

I have tried calling her several times during these past weeks-sometimes in the morning, sometimes late at night when the silence feels heavier than usual-but every single time the result has been the same.

She avoids my calls like the plague.

At first, I convinced myself she must simply be busy. But after the fifth attempt... and the sixth... and the seventh, the truth became impossible to ignore.

She is deliberately avoiding me.

And I know exactly why.

Our last conversation still echoes inside my head like an unfinished argument.

The moment I told her I would not return to Brussels, the warmth in her voice had vanished instantly. The disappointment was so thick it had almost suffocated me through the phone.

She did not shout.

She did not accuse me.

She simply went silent.

And then she hung up.

Since that day, she has refused to speak to me.

A sigh escapes my lips as I stare at my phone for a long moment before finally dialing another number.

If Mom will not talk to me... then my brother will.

The phone rings three times before the call connects.

"Accept my greetings, brother."

For a brief second there is silence.

Then his familiar voice fills the line.

"Greetings to you too, champ. What a pleasant surprise."

His voice is exactly the same as always-warm, calm, carrying that quiet affection he has always shown me since we were children.

Just hearing it eases something inside my chest.

But I am not calling for pleasantries.

"Mom isn't taking my calls."

I get straight to the point.

There is no need to dance around the subject. If anyone knows why she is ignoring me, it is him.

I am certain she told him about our last conversation. The one where she hung up the moment I refused to visit Brussels.

"Vincenzo," he says gently, "she is fine. Don't worry about her."

His tone carries reassurance, but I can still hear the subtle shift in his voice.

He is avoiding the topic.

"But since you called, I need a favour from you."

My brows knit slightly.

A favour?

"Anything, brother. Just say the word."

Respect comes naturally when I speak to him. It always has.

There is a brief pause on the other end of the line.

Then his voice lowers.

"I have been having spinal cord spasms... and the doctors say I need surgery as soon as possible."

For a moment, I think I misheard him.

My body goes rigid in the chair.

"Bro-why didn't you tell me?" The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. "How long has this been happening? How are you feeling now? When is the surgery?"

Questions pour out of me one after another.

"Well..." he exhales softly. "I haven't scheduled the surgery yet."

My jaw tightens.

"What?"

"There are several important meetings lined up. I can't afford to make mistakes right now."

Even now.

Even when his own health is at risk.

He is still thinking about responsibilities.

"Moreover," he continues, "you know how Aria is."

A small smile tugs at my lips despite the tension.

Yes.

I know exactly how Aria is.

"She acts strong in front of everyone," he says quietly. "But if something happens to me... she becomes the weakest person in the world."

I close my eyes briefly.

"I know."

Silence lingers between us for a moment.

Then he speaks again.

"So I was hoping you could take a few days off and come here. I need someone strong to handle everything while I recover."

My chest tightens.

"And honestly," he adds softly, "I can't think of anyone better than you."

His words put me in a difficult position.

Part of me does not want to go back.

Brussels is not just a city.

It is a place filled with memories I would rather bury forever.

Memories of expectations.

Of judgment.

Of suffocating traditions.

But he is my brother.

My only real family.

If he needs me... there is no question.

"I will arrange the first available flight to Brussels," I say finally. "I'll send you the details as soon as I get them."

Relief fills his voice instantly.

"I'll be waiting."

The call ends shortly after.

But the faint happiness in his tone leaves a small smile on my face.

I pick up my phone again and dial another number.

"Ms. Carlo, please arrange the first available flight to Brussels for me."

"Yes, sir. Right away. I'll send the details shortly."

I can hear voices in the background.

And one voice in particular.

Valerio.

"Vincenzo, where are you going?" he asks next.

"Brussels," I reply casually. "My brother needs me."

"Is everything okay?"

His concern sounds genuine.

"Yeah... sort of."

Then I smirk.

"Come home once you're done with your 'important work.'"

I deliberately emphasize the last two words.

Because the voices I heard earlier made it quite clear what kind of "important work" he was doing.

There is a brief pause on the other end.

"Hmm... yeah. See you at home."

I chuckle quietly after hanging up.

I truly do not understand him sometimes.

If he likes Ms. Carlo... why doesn't he simply admit it?

Shaking my head, I lean back in my chair and close my eyes.

Brussels.

The name alone makes something heavy settle inside my chest.

The same people.

The same judging gazes.

The same expectations waiting to suffocate me the moment I return.

I do not know when I will finally be free from all of it.

________________________________________

The moment my feet touch the land of my birth, a strange wave of nostalgia washes over me.

The air feels different here.

Familiar.

Heavy with memories.

Part of me wants to turn around and board the next flight out.

But responsibility anchors me to the ground.

I take a slow breath before stepping forward.

"Your Highness, this way please."

A group of airport staff waits respectfully at the end of the passage.

For a moment, confusion crosses my mind.

But the way they address me makes it clear.

My brother arranged this.

Of course he did.

Without a word, I follow them through a private corridor.

"Right this way, Your Highness."

The man ahead opens a door.

I nod slightly and step outside.

And there he is.

My brother stands a few steps away, dressed in a perfectly tailored business suit. His sunglasses hide his eyes, and his arms are folded across his chest.

A rare smile rests on his face.

Sometimes I wonder how he manages to look so effortlessly composed all the time.

Elegance seems to flow through him naturally.

My eyes scan him instinctively.

Searching for any sign of weakness.

Thankfully... he looks fine.

But I know him well enough to understand the truth.

He is simply very good at hiding pain.

"Bro-"

Before I can finish, he closes the distance between us and pulls me into a tight embrace.

My eyes close automatically.

His warmth wraps around me like something I did not realize I needed.

His grip tightens slightly.

I hug him back just as firmly.

"How is my little brother?" he murmurs.

I can hear the happiness in his voice.

"I'm good," I reply quietly. "How are you?"

"Now that you're here... I'll be fine."

His words hit deeper than he probably intended.

They remind me once again that something is wrong.

I slowly pull away before my emotions betray me.

"Shall we?" he asks.

I nod.

I had booked a hotel earlier because I had no intention of staying at the palace.

But now that he is here... refusing him would be impossible.

The drive back is filled with light conversation about work.

Eventually, the enormous palace gates appear ahead of us.

Memories crash into me the moment I see them.

Bitter ones.

I close my eyes briefly.

Steady yourself.

When I open them again, something unexpected catches my attention.

Outside, in the palace gardens, life looks completely different.

The gardens stretch endlessly in every direction-perfect emerald lawns, fountains carved from white stone, and rows of roses swaying gently in the breeze.

And in the middle of all that elegance...

Chaos.

Pure, joyful chaos.

Laughter echoes through the air.

Zara is running after a rabbit with all the determination of a tiny warrior.

Suddenly she stumbles.

Before I can even react-

Lio moves.

Fast.

Precise.

He catches her mid-fall like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Zen rushes over immediately, examining her like a tiny doctor checking for injuries.

I watch Lio carefully.

Too calm.

Too composed.

Too controlled.

Just like his father.

Like father, like son.

He approaches me with a seriousness far beyond his years.

"Accept my greetings, Uncle."

He bows slightly.

I pull him into my arms instantly.

"God... I missed you."

"Phone calls don't count," he replies smoothly.

Smart kid.

I glance at the twins.

Four curious eyes stare back at me.

"Do you know who I am?"

They shake their heads.

The answer stings more than I expected.

"Well... I can't blame you," I say softly. "I never visit."

I kneel down to their level.

"I'm Uncle Vincenzo."

Recognition lights up their faces like sunlight breaking through clouds.

The next second, they jump into my arms with reckless excitement.

And for the first time since arriving...

I laugh.

A genuine laugh.

"Did you bring our gifts?" Zara asks seriously.

Of course.

Kids never forget the important things.

I silently thank Ms. Carlo for arranging last-minute gifts before my flight.

"Yes," I say. "But later."

My brother intervenes gently.

"Go play. Your uncle is staying."

Staying.

The word lingers in the air longer than it should.

The children nod obediently and run back to the garden.

Lio instructs one of the security guards to watch them before walking inside with us.

"They are adorable, brother," I admit. "I feel guilty for not visiting earlier."

Before my brother can respond, Lio speaks.

"Never mind, Uncle," he says with a small smirk.

"Now that you're here... I'm sure Dad has already planned something to keep at least one of your legs here permanently."

The boy's smirk grows wider.

And suddenly...

I have a very bad feeling about what he means.

**

VIN'S POV

"Lio," my brother warns sternly.

I was trying to decode the meaning behind Lio's words, but I could not quite grasp what he was implying.

Something was not right.

I made up my mind to speak to my brother alone at the first opportunity. There was something beneath the surface-something unsaid.

Did Bro lie to me about his health?

The thought struck me sharply. But I had seen him discreetly press his hand against his lower back more than once. The tension in his shoulders was not staged. The pain was real.

"What? I know how much you miss him. If you want him to visit more often, that is not too much to ask."

Lio's voice was calm, direct-too perceptive for someone his age.

My eyes shifted to my brother.

He was smiling.

A small, restrained smile.

The kind that carries history. The kind that forgives before being asked to.

And somehow, that made the guilt worse.

He knows why I stay away.

And I know he understands.

Yet the silence between us grows heavier with each visit.

The moment I stepped inside, a familiar scent wrapped around me-polished marble, aged wood, faint incense.

Royal.

Cold.

Unforgiving.

It seeped into my lungs and settled in my chest like a memory I had tried to bury.

Why does this place still suffocate me?

Why does my heart feel heavier here than anywhere else in the world?

My body reacts before my mind does.

Nate stirred inside me-uneasy, restless.

I ignored it.

We walked into the grand living hall.

Crystal chandeliers cascaded from the high domed ceiling. Sunlight streamed through towering arched windows draped in ivory silk. Gold-trimmed furniture sat in perfect symmetry over Persian rugs that had outlived generations.

This palace was breathtaking.

And yet-

I have never felt at home here.

Grandfather sat near the fireplace, scrolling through his phone with the seriousness of a statesman. He had recently discovered social media and now treated it like an intelligence network.

Father was seated with his newspaper, posture rigid as ever.

Nanny stood nearby-no longer merely a caretaker, but family in every sense. She had held me before I could even hold my own head.

And then-

Mom.

And Aunty.

Laughing together.

That sound did something to me.

Aunty-my brother's mother. My stepmother. But never once had she treated me as anything less than her own son. If anything, she compensated for what others failed to give.

I stepped forward.

"Greetings, everyone."

I bowed first to Grandfather, who pulled me into a crushing embrace.

"You've forgotten this old man," he complained.

If only forgetting were that simple.

I turned to Father next.

Our hug was brief.

Polite.

Controlled.

My response to his questions was equally restrained.

Some wounds do not bleed anymore.

They calcify.

He is the architect of mine.

And he knows it.

I then walked toward Aunty. Before I could bow, she pulled me into a warm, motherly hug. I smiled, feeling her affection.

"This is the only son who calls and visits me whenever he has time-not like others," she teased, looking at my brother.

I secretly felt pleased.

"Oh, Aunty, I would do anything for you," I exaggerated.

Brother rolled his eyes, knowing me well.

"Mom, you know how busy I am. But next time, I will make sure you have no reason to complain," my brother said.

"Mom, don't raise your hopes," my sister-in-law added, rolling her eyes at him.

"I'm not," Aunty replied matter-of-factly.

Brother slipped his hands into his pockets and remained silent with a stoic expression.

His gaze followed Sister-in-law, and I could tell he didn't like her not taking his side.

When I turned toward Mom, everything inside me softened.

She cupped my face the way she used to when I was a child-like I was still small enough to shield from the world.

When I turned toward Mom, everything inside me softened.

She cupped my face the way she used to when I was a child-like I was still small enough to shield from the world.

"How are you?" she whispered.

For a moment, I let myself lean into that illusion.

"I'm fine."

"You didn't call me," I said lightly, but there was truth beneath it.

The woman who once called me twice a day had gone silent.

"I was... busy," she said, shrugging.

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow.

Her composure cracked.

"Fine. I missed you," she huffed.

There it was.

The admission I needed more than I realized.

"I missed you too," I murmured, pulling her into a hug. "Don't punish me like that again."

I felt someone watching.

A gaze sharp enough to pierce through composure.

But for once, I didn't look.

This moment was mine.

"It's so good to see you, Brother," my sister-in-law said.

I turned and bowed slightly to greet her.

"You are making me feel old. Please do not do that," she laughed, holding my shoulder.

"Sis, I doubt you'll ever age. You don't look a day over twenty. Not like some people who already look fifty," I teased, glancing at my brother and winking.

Sister-in-law and I burst out laughing.

"I'll talk to both of you later. My way," Brother stressed the words my way, warning us.

Sister-in-law blushed hard, and I quickly looked away.

I understood his warning-to both of us.

The day went well, and eventually, I retired to my chamber.

Later that night, I stood in the room that had always been mine.

High ceilings.

Velvet drapes.

Mahogany furniture carved with ancestral crests.

Everything about it screamed legacy.

Power.

Belonging.

But how can I belong to a place where my mother never did?

That contradiction has defined my entire existence.

Next Day

When I woke, it was nearly ten.

Too late for breakfast.

Too late for family conversations.

Too late for pretending I fit effortlessly into this world.

Did I want to join them?

No.

Yes.

I don't know.

Being here is like pressing on a bruise just to check if it still hurts.

It does.

Always.

A tray waited by my bedside-fresh fruit, coffee prepared exactly the way I prefer.

Sister-in-law.

She notices everything.

I walked to the balcony after dressing, pulling the curtains aside.

Sunlight flooded the chamber.

But it could not reach the darker corners inside me.

The gardens below shimmered under morning light. The fountains sparkled like liquid diamonds.

Suddenly, A giggling broke my peaceful moment.

As if my eyes already knew where the sound was coming from, they moved toward the garden.

I saw a few carefree souls laughing and playing, lost in their own world, free from worries.

Their laughter drifted upward.

Carefree.

Unburdened.

Untouched by politics, expectations, betrayal.

For a moment-

I envied them.

Their innocence.

Their freedom from history.

I closed my eyes.

For the first time in months, there were no urgent calls. No board meetings. No strategies to calculate.

Just wind against my skin.

And silence.

But even in silence-

The past never truly leaves.

For a brief second, I felt jealous of their innocence.

But I quickly pushed the thought away and simply watched them.

**