Chapter 8 - He Gave Up the Throne Before He Asked for Her Heart
Enzo spent the next month dismantling his own empire.
Not destroying his companies.
Changing them.
Illegal operations were shut down.
Dirty partnerships ended.
Men who refused were paid, removed, or handed to prosecutors when evidence justified it.
Marco called it corporate exorcism.
Luca called it a nightmare.
Alessia called it Tuesday.
She refused to move into Enzo’s villa.
She refused the car he bought her.
She refused the credit card.
When he sent groceries to her apartment, she sent half back.
“This is exhausting,” he complained.
“You’re welcome.”
Eventually, Enzo stopped trying to solve her life with money.
Instead, he began appearing at her door with coffee.
Sometimes Nona let him in.
Sometimes she made him wait.
“She enjoys this,” Enzo said.
“Very much.”
Matteo remained in protective custody awaiting trial.
Alessia visited once.
She did not forgive him.
Not yet.
But she listened.
That was enough.
One evening, Enzo took Alessia to Vieri Tower.
The repaired elevator waited.
She stopped outside it.
“No.”
He smiled.
“Afraid?”
“Yes.”
The answer surprised him.
Alessia looked inside.
“I spent weeks pretending that night didn’t affect me.”
Enzo’s humor vanished.
“We can take the stairs.”
Thirty-two floors.
She laughed.
“You’d survive?”
“Questionable.”
She entered.
Enzo followed.
The doors closed.
He stood on the opposite side.
Deliberately giving her space.
The elevator began moving.
At floor twelve, Alessia’s breathing changed.
Enzo noticed.
He did not touch her.
“Look at me.”
She did.
“You’re safe.”
She nodded.
“Still want me over here?”
After a moment, she shook her head.
Enzo held out his hand.
She crossed the elevator herself.
Their fingers joined.
When the doors opened on the top floor, Alessia realized she had been smiling.
The old executive suite had been emptied.
“What happened here?”
“I’m converting it.”
“Into what?”
“A foundation.”
She stared.
“For workers injured or exploited by companies connected to my family.”
Alessia turned toward him.
“Why?”
“Because money should occasionally do something useful.”
“That sounded painful.”
“It was.”
He handed her a folder.
She refused to take it.
“What did you buy?”
“Nothing.”
Suspicious, she opened it.
A job offer.
Not from Enzo.
From an independent board.
Community liaison and worker advocacy coordinator.
Salary listed.
Benefits.
Training included.
She stared at him.
“You did this?”
“I suggested your name. They interviewed six candidates without telling me who they chose.”
“You expect me to believe you didn’t threaten anyone?”
“I threatened Marco not to interfere.”
“That counts.”
“Barely.”
Alessia laughed.
She accepted the job two weeks later.
Their relationship changed too.
Slowly.
Enzo learned how to ask.
Alessia learned that accepting help was not surrender.
They fought.
Often.
Usually because Enzo still had the emotional instincts of a fortress.
Once he assigned security to her without telling her.
She discovered it when a guard followed her into a grocery store.
She sent Enzo twelve photographs of increasingly ridiculous vegetables with the caption:
Your spy and I are choosing zucchini.
Enzo arrived personally.
She made him carry the groceries.
Nona made him cook.
He was terrible.
For one almost ordinary evening, the most feared man in Milan stood in a tiny kitchen being insulted by an eighty-year-old woman over tomato sauce.
Alessia watched him laugh.
She realized she loved him.
The realization terrified her.
Three nights later, Enzo arrived at her apartment.
His expression told her something was wrong.
“Matteo escaped custody.”
“What?”
“He didn’t escape alone.”
Security footage showed someone helping him.
Bruno.
Alessia’s former supervisor.
Bruno had worked for Rosa for years.
The cleaning company had provided access to dozens of corporate buildings.
Including Vieri Tower.
Alessia understood.
Her employment there had never been random.
Bruno had placed her deliberately.
“Why me?”
Enzo’s face was grim.
“Because Rosa believed Matteo would eventually contact you.”
Her entire job had been surveillance.
Every shift.
Every building.
Every coincidence.
Manipulated.
Then her phone rang.
Matteo.
“Alessia, I need you to listen.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m fixing what I started.”
“What does that mean?”
A pause.
Then:
“Carlo wasn’t the only person I poisoned.”
Her stomach turned.
“Papa—”
“I poisoned Stefano too.”
Enzo grabbed the phone.
“When?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
They heard Matteo breathing.
May you like
Then a gunshot.
The line went dead.
