The sound cuts through the tension like a gunshot.
Alessandro turns toward it, but I move faster, grabbing it before he can touch it. The screen lights up—an incoming message preview.
Miles:
Timestamp and headers attached. Email sent 1:13 a.m. Like you asked.
My pulse stops.
1:13 a.m.
I remember exactly where I was at 1:13 a.m.
Sitting in the hallway outside her room.
Watching her sleep.
Listening to her breathe.
I scroll down, open the message.
The proof is there—
an IP trace, metadata, everything that clears her.
I stare at it long enough for the fury inside me to shift into something colder. Something sharper.
“Let her go,” I say quietly.
Alessandro looks up, confused. “What?”
I lift my head, my voice a growl now. “I said,let her go.”
“Dante, youcan’t—”
“Now!” I roar, the sound shaking the walls.
He drops her arm instantly. She stumbles a step back, rubbing her arm, eyes wide.
I round the desk, every muscle in my body shaking with the weight of what I almost allowed.
“Never,” I snarl, pointing a finger straight at him, “fucking touch her again.”
Alessandro blinks, caught off guard. “She’s—”
“Out.”
“Dante—”
“OUT!”
The word cracks like thunder, and this time, he obeys.
He storms out without another word, the door slamming hard enough to rattle the pictures Sofia colored on the walls.
I stand there, breathing hard, the phone still in my hand, her gaze on me like heat.
For a long time, neither of us moves.
