Chapter 15 – The Untouchable Night

• The night air was cool, a sharp contrast to the turmoil churning inside Alina. She slipped quietly from the master suite, careful to avoid the subtle creaks in the wooden floor, and made her way to the terrace. The estate was vast, but she knew this was one place she could breathe—the open sky, the pale light of the moon casting a silvery glow over the manicured gardens and rolling hills beyond.
• The city’s distant hum was a faint whisper here, replaced by the chirping of crickets and the soft rustling of leaves stirred by a gentle breeze. She leaned against the cold stone balustrade, the weight of everything pressing down on her chest. Tonight, the luxury, the cage, the control—all of it felt suffocating.
• She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, willing the knot in her stomach to loosen. But the memories, the tangled web of lies and betrayals, clung stubbornly.
• From behind, footsteps approached softly, almost hesitant. Luciano.
• He stopped a pace away, the moonlight catching the sharp lines of his face—the strong jaw, the dark eyes flickering with something unreadable. For a moment, he said nothing. The silence between them stretched, heavy and charged.
• Then, quietly, he spoke.
• “I didn’t always have this,” he said, voice low, almost fragile. “The empire. The power. The control. I built it alone. Every scar on my body has a story.”
• He reached up, pulling his sleeve down to reveal a jagged scar tracing the curve of his shoulder. It looked old, a map of pain and survival.
• “Touch it,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.
• Alina hesitated. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached out, tracing the rough scar with the pads of her fingers. It was real, raw, a vulnerability she hadn’t expected.
• Their eyes locked, and for a heartbeat, everything else—fear, anger, the cage—dissolved.
• She could almost feel the warmth radiating from him, the promise of something deeper beneath the cold exterior.
• But then she pulled back sharply, stepping away.
• “You think owning me makes you worthy of my love?” Her voice was sharp, brimming with defiance and hurt.
• Luciano said nothing. He just turned and walked away, leaving her alone under the indifferent stars.
• Alina’s heartbeat thundered in her ears as Luciano’s silhouette disappeared into the shadows. She stood frozen for a long moment, the echo of his words—unspoken but loud—reverberating through her mind.
• The terrace, once a refuge, now felt like a stage for a cruel play she was unwillingly part of. The moonlight shimmered over the garden below, but her vision blurred with unshed tears and a rising tide of anger.
• How could he be so cold, yet so vulnerable all at once? The contradictions twisted inside her, making her dizzy with confusion.
• She turned, moving back toward the suite, her footsteps uneven, lost in thought.
• When she reached her room, the door was ajar. A soft glow spilled into the darkened space, pulling her forward.
• Her eyes immediately fell upon the easel standing by the window. The canvas was covered with a fresh painting.
• Alina stepped closer, breath catching in her throat.
• It was her—standing peacefully on the rooftop terrace, bathed in moonlight, eyes closed.
• The artist had captured every detail with haunting precision: the curve of her cheek, the tangled strands of hair, the relaxed but vulnerable posture.
• Her gaze fell to the signature at the bottom corner, a delicate flourish she recognized immediately.
• Luciano.
• The betrayal of intimacy struck her like a physical blow.
• He had watched her. Not just from a distance, but in her most private moments—silent, unseen.
• A shiver ran down her spine, a mixture of fear and something darker—intrigue? A dangerous fascination she didn’t want to admit.
• Alina closed her eyes, trying to steady her racing mind.
• This was no longer just a game of control or punishment. It was a battle for her soul, her will, her very identity.
• And she was losing ground.