CHAPTER 108: THE PRICE OF CONFESSION

Alessia didn’t move.

The blood in her veins was no longer ice water, but molten lead, heavy and suffocating.

Her mind, however, was suddenly, frighteningly clear.

She had walked into a trap, not of adultery, but of grand-scale deception.

The possessiveness, the tests, the distance—it had all been a carefully orchestrated ballet to keep her focused on their marital discord while a deeper, more lethal game was being played.

"Angel is a name," Luca repeated, his voice now a low, menacing current, "and they just received the final order to take care of all loose ends."

"Loose ends?" Alessia’s voice was a ragged whisper, a final shred of disbelief catching in her throat. "The baby is a loose end?"

Luca’s expression didn’t soften. "The situation is a loose end. You were supposed to leave tonight, convinced I was the monster. Convinced you had failed. If you had, you would have vanished with the child, and my father’s operative... Angel... would have considered the matter contained."

He emphasized the word with cold finality. "But now... you know too much, and you have proof I’m planning to leave the country. That makes you a liability."

The brutal clarity of his words was worse than any lie.

He hadn’t been testing her loyalty to him; he had been testing her will to survive.

She finally turned from the door, the small, silent ’click’ of the voice recorder app being stopped on her phone a microscopic defiance against the Don.

"You’re protecting me by making me believe you hate me?" she demanded, a laugh bubbling up, a sound half-hysteria, half-fury. "You were willing to destroy your own child’s sense of self, my sanity, to make me run into the night, thinking I was escaping a philandering husband? You’re not a husband, Luca. You’re a manipulator."

"I am the Don," he corrected, his posture radiating lethal authority. "And you are the only weakness I cannot afford to show. Angel’s mission was to neutralize any threat to the transition of power, and an unloyal wife with an unborn heir is a significant threat to my father’s old guard." He took a step toward her, closing the distance, and the terrifying possessiveness returned to his eyes. "But I won’t let them touch you. I need you to understand that everything I did tonight was to make you safe from the game, even if it meant making you hate me."

He lifted a hand, and Alessia flinched. Not a cower of fear, but a visceral rejection of his touch, the flinch spoke volumes.

Luca’s expression tightened, a swift, sharp spasm of pain.

He dropped his hand.

"I have done what I needed to do to survive.

Now, I will do what I need to do to protect what is mine," he stated, pulling out his own phone and dialing a number with swift, practiced efficiency.

He didn’t look at her as he spoke, his voice low and commanding.

"Get Xavier... Now, Tell him the perimeter is red. I need him here in ten minutes, in my office. No one is to see him enter.

And put a full communications blackout on this wing until I lift it. Go." He ended the call, crushing the phone call on her with his authority, but the residual tension in the air was thick with her silent, unwavering condemnation.

"You’re bringing someone here?" Alessia asked, her voice dangerously quiet. "Another one of your ’loyal operatives’ to watch the loose end?"

"No," Luca said, his eyes finally meeting hers, a dark, desperate sincerity in their depths. "I’m bringing the only person I trust more than myself to stand between you and the inevitable backlash. Xavier is ex-military, not part of the Family. He answers only to me, and he’s the best shield money can buy. He won’t leave your side, Alessia. Not for a second. His job is to protect you from everyone, including me, if necessary. You needed extra protection.. For I see what’s coming which you don’t. "

********

Ten minutes later, the air in the library shifted again.

A man who seemed to materialize from the shadows stood framed in the doorway.

He wasn’t wearing an expensive suit like the men sent after Daisy; he wore a simple, dark combat shirt and tactical trousers that seemed to absorb the light.

His build was lean but powerful, his movements utterly silent.

This was Xavier.

He was younger than Luca, perhaps early thirties, with close-cropped dark hair and a clean-shaven, almost ascetic face. But it was his eyes that held Alessia captive a shade of pale, icy blue that was utterly devoid of judgment, yet simultaneously piercing, scanning the room for threats she couldn’t even perceive.

He didn’t offer a greeting, a bow, or a flicker of recognition for the Mafia’s wife. He was an implement, honed and ready.

Luca stepped forward. "This is Alessia, my wife. You will not leave her side. You will eat when she eats, sleep when she sleeps, in the room adjoining hers.

Your mission is simple: keep her alive.

No one enters her orbit without your knowledge. No phone calls, no outside contact. She is to be treated as a protected asset until I give you a direct order otherwise."

Xavier’s gaze finally settled on Alessia, his eyes lingering on her face for a fraction of a second before dropping to the slight swell of her abdomen.

A barely perceptible nod acknowledged the command.

His voice, when he finally spoke, was a low, gravelly baritone that vibrated with suppressed energy.

"Understood, Sir. Where is her safe room?"

Luca pointed down the hall. "The master suite. The panic room code is 1-0-2-3. Commit it to memory."

"Already done," Xavier replied, his eyes sweeping back to Luca. "And your position, sir? What is your status on the threat matrix?"

Luca took another sip of his amber drink, his expression hardening. "My status is simple. I am the bait. I will draw the fire while you ensure the exit. Now, go. I have work to do."

Xavier gave a final, stiff nod, then turned to Alessia.

He didn’t offer a hand or a reassuring word.

He simply gestured toward the door with a tilt of his chin, an unspoken, "Move."

Alessia, shaken by the new guard’s cold professionalism, found herself obeying.

As she walked past Luca, he grabbed her wrist, his grip surprisingly gentle.

"Trust him, Alessia," he murmured. "And trust this: I haven’t lied to you about my feelings since the night we met.

But I have lied to protect you from the truth of what I am."

*****

Over the next week, the estate became a gilded cage.

Alessia was surrounded by guards, but Xavier was the wall.

He was a silent, unmoving presence, often standing in the periphery of a room or sitting at the edge of the terrace while she read.

He never intruded, never asked a personal question, but she felt his constant, unwavering attention. A shield of pure, focused vigilance.

Initially, Alessia was resentful, treating him like an irritating piece of furniture.

But as the days bled into one another, she started to notice the little things.

One afternoon, she was struggling to open a new, complicated jar of a special imported tea blend she liked. Xavier, without a word, was suddenly beside her.

Not touching her, but his hand hovered near the jar.

"Twist and press down," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the hallway, his posture still one of alertness. "The lid is child-proofed."

He didn’t take the jar, didn’t show off his strength.

He just gave the instruction, solving the problem with quiet efficiency.

Another time, she awoke from a nightmare, crying silently in the dark. A faint light snapped on in the adjoining room. He didn’t rush in. Instead, the small, leather-bound Gideon Bible that always sat by her bedside was quietly placed on her nightstand, a bookmark set near Psalm 23. He had been listening, and he had offered the only comfort he had, not a personal touch, but a universal, silent acknowledgement of distress.

Alessia found herself starting to observe him as well. She noticed the way he drank his coffee black, always lukewarm.

The way he meticulously cleaned his sidearm every night, the rhythmic snick-snick of the slide the only break in the oppressive silence.

He was a creature of routine, discipline, and a quiet, profound loneliness that resonated with her own.

One evening, Luca was still absent, "drawing the fire," and Alessia was sketching in the library (now one of her designated safe zones). Xavier was, as always, near the door.

"You miss him," Alessia stated suddenly, her pencil scratching softly on the paper.

Xavier didn’t move. "I miss my orders, Ma’am. They give me purpose."

"No," Alessia countered, lifting her eyes to his. "You miss him. Luca. The man who pays you. You look like a man without his compass."

Xavier turned his head, his icy eyes meeting hers. "The Mafia is an excellent leader. He is also a burden. I serve him because he is the only man who knows how to wield me without breaking me. That’s not love, Ma’am. It’s mutual utility."

"And what about me?" Alessia pressed, her voice soft. "Am I a burden, too?"

A long silence stretched between them, thick with the unsaid. Xavier finally shifted his weight, his gaze dropping to the floor. "You are my order, Ma’am. And I follow my orders with absolute loyalty."

It wasn’t a compliment, but it was the most honest thing anyone had said to her in weeks. A tiny, perilous tendril of respect, and something achingly close to comfort, began to weave itself around her heart.

She realized, with a shocking jolt, that she was starting to see the man behind the machine.

A man who was fiercely loyal, not to a title, but to a person and now, that person was her.

*********

Meanwhile, a thousand miles away, in a cheap, neon-lit motel room, Luca sat in a chair, his face drawn with exhaustion, staring at a small, silver USB flash drive resting on a coffee table.

The air around him was heavy with the smell of cheap perfume and stale regret.

He hadn’t been in the room long.

Only long enough to conduct the grim transaction that had led to this.

The flash drive had been given to him by his secretary.

The same secretary whom bianca had thrown herself at him repeatedly, thinking it was luca.

Her body was the price for his trust, for her promotion.

She had mistaken Luca for him.

Bianca had slept with his secretary, believing it was Luca, and in a twisted act of ’loyalty’ and self-sacrifice, she had finally delivered the key secrets of the conversations she had with seraphina and lorenzo.

Luca reached out, his hand shaking, and picked up the drive.

He plugged the drive into his secured laptop.

The screen flashed, and a single folder appeared: "Loose Ends - Final Cut."

He opened it, and the file inside wasn’t a document.

It was a video.

Luca clicked ’play.’ The low, crackling static of a hidden camera filled the Lorenzo dark creepy cave.

The video recording showed seraphina and bianca having a discussion with Lorenzo.

On a table, scattered among documents, were photos. Photos of Alessia, followed by a photo of Daisy.

Then, the voice of seraphina , cold and definitive, filled the room.

He had listened to all their conversation and their new plans.

Luca’s hand clenched around the desk, his knuckles white.

Luca picked up his phone, his eyes blazing with a cold, terrifying resolve.

"Fredo," he growled into the phone. "New orders. The threat is not external anymore. It’s inside the walls. seraphina has a new plan, keep a close eyes.

The next few hours were a blur of frantic action.

Luca’s call had been interrupted by the sound of glass shattering and a scream that sounded impossibly like Alessia’s.

He couldn’t reach Xavier, the line suddenly dead.

He had to assume the worst. He packed his bag, tossing the laptop, the flash drive, and his sidearm inside.

He had to fly back to the estate, but first, he had one last, desperate call to make.

He didn’t call the police. He didn’t call his security detail. He called the one person who could protect Daisy while being an enemy to the Family.

"Romeo," Luca said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "You owe me a life. I need you to find Daisy, but first... you need to go back to the estate.Daisy maybe in danger, Find her and protect her. If anything happens to her, I will spend the rest of my life hunting you down..."