POV: Emilia Conti
I didn't mean to eavesdrop.
That was the truth—clean and simple. I wasn't hiding behind doors or pressing my ear to walls like someone in a cheap thriller. I was doing exactly what I'd been allowed to do: walking the permitted corridor, following the boundaries Alessio had set as if they were lines drawn in chalk instead of steel.
The study door was ajar.
Just slightly.
Enough to let sound leak through.
I slowed without thinking, my steps instinctively quiet. Years in hospitals had trained me to move softly when something serious was happening behind closed doors.
Alessio's voice reached me first. Low. Controlled.
"You're overreacting."
Luciano's reply came smooth and measured, carrying the confidence of someone who believed he was being reasonable. "I disagree. I think you're underreacting."
I stopped completely.
The glass wall beside me reflected my face—composed, alert, not panicked. I stayed where I was, breath shallow, pulse steady.
"This isn't about her," Alessio said.
"Everything is about her now," Luciano replied. "Whether you like it or not."
A pause followed. Not empty—weighted.
"You're allowing sentiment to cloud judgment," Luciano continued. "That's not like you."
"She saved my life," Alessio said. "Twice."
"And now she's costing you authority."
The words landed sharply, even from a distance.
"You've made her visible," Luciano added. "Publicly. That sends a message."
"That I protect what's under my roof."
"That you can be pressured," Luciano countered calmly. "You don't shield liabilities by placing them at the center of attention."
Alessio's tone cooled. "Choose your words carefully."
Luciano chuckled softly. "You see? That's right there. You're already defensive."
I felt something tighten in my chest—not fear, not yet. Recognition.
This wasn't a warning.
It was positioning.
"She's not a liability," Alessio said.
"She's an unknown," Luciano replied. "And unknowns are dangerous when enemies are watching."
I leaned slightly closer to the glass, careful not to cast a shadow.
"You've frozen her debts," Luciano went on. "Restricted her access. Increased her proximity."
"That was necessary."
"Or possessive," Luciano said lightly. "Which one do you think the council sees?"
Silence stretched.
Then Alessio spoke again, slower this time. "What are you suggesting?"
Luciano didn't answer immediately.
When he did, his voice was calm enough to be chilling.
"That you formalize the situation before someone else does."
My stomach dropped.
"Formalize how?" Alessio asked.
"There are precedents," Luciano said. "Political solutions. Alliances. Commitments."
A cold understanding settled over me.
Marriage.
"You're rushing," Alessio said.
"I'm preventing chaos," Luciano replied. "If she remains undefined, she becomes exploitable."
"And if I define her?"
"Then she becomes contained."
Contained.
I exhaled slowly, careful not to make a sound.
"You don't trust her," Alessio said.
Luciano's voice softened, feigning concern. "Trust has nothing to do with this. Power does."
"And you think she threatens mine."
"I think," Luciano replied, "that you've already allowed her to change how you operate."
Another pause.
"Gianna agrees with me," Luciano added casually.
That landed like a final nail.
Alessio didn't respond right away.
When he did, his voice was sharp. "Gianna doesn't decide for me."
"No," Luciano agreed. "But she does influence the council."
Silence again.
Then footsteps.
I moved.
Not fast. Not frantic. Just enough to put distance between myself and the door before it opened further.
I reached the end of the corridor and turned just as Alessio stepped out of the study. His gaze lifted immediately—and locked onto mine.
Too sharp.
Too aware.
"How long were you standing there?" he asked.
I didn't lie. "Long enough."
Luciano followed him out, expression smooth, eyes flicking to me with polite curiosity.
"Dr. Conti," he said. "I hope we didn't disturb you."
I met his gaze. "I was just walking."
"Of course," he replied. "That's what corridors are for."
Alessio watched me closely. "Did you hear anything you shouldn't have?"
I considered him for a moment.
Then answered honestly. "I heard enough."
Luciano smiled faintly. "Honesty. Refreshing."
Alessio's jaw tightened. "We're finished here."
Luciano inclined his head. "For now."
He paused beside me, voice low enough that only I could hear. "You see? Even the walls have ears in this house."
Then he walked away.
The silence he left behind felt heavier than before.
Alessio turned back to me. "You shouldn't have been there."
"You left the door open," I replied.
"That wasn't an invitation."
"No," I said. "It was a mistake."
His gaze darkened. "This is exactly why isolation exists."
"No," I countered. "This is why you're losing control."
The words hung between us, dangerous and true.
"You heard talk of containment," he said quietly.
"Yes."
"And you're angry."
"I'm calculating," I replied. "Just like everyone else in this house."
A muscle in his jaw flexed. "You don't understand how quickly this can turn."
"I understand perfectly," I said. "They're not protecting me from the world."
He waited.
"They're protecting you from uncertainty," I finished.
Silence.
"You're not wrong," he said finally.
"That's the problem," I replied.
I stepped past him then, walking back toward my suite with steady steps.
Behind me, I felt his gaze linger—heavy, conflicted, unreadable.
Luciano hadn't threatened me.
He hadn't warned me.
He'd done something far more dangerous.
He'd named me as a problem.
And in this world, problems didn't stay unsolved for long.