Chapter 3 Alessio Riccardo's POV

Alessio Riccardo's POV

If she shows up, she's brave.

If she doesn't, she's smart.

And either way

I'm screwed.

Midnight.

The old chapel sits at the edge of the estate like a forgotten promise-hollow, crumbling, and full of secrets.

The guards are off patrol. Cameras in this wing were disabled years ago. I never told my father.

He doesn't need to know everything.

Especially not about her.

I lean against the wooden doorframe, arms crossed, watching the shadows shift. She's late.

Smart.

Or cautious.

Or both.

Then....footsteps. Soft, measured.

Eva steps through the threshold like she's entering a battlefield. All black, hair tied back, eyes narrowed.

Good.

She didn't come dressed like a pawn.

"You came," I say.

She stops two feet away, posture straight, voice steady. "You left a note."

"I wasn't sure you'd follow it."

"Curiosity's a terrible habit of mine."

"And trust?"

She gives a sharp smile. "Even worse."

I study her under the stained-glass moonlight.

"Do you know where you're standing?"

She glances around. "An old chapel. Abandoned, by the looks of it."

"It used to be a place of vows. Mercy. Grace."

"And now?"

"Now it's a graveyard for things no one wants to admit existed."

A beat of silence.

Then she says, "You didn't bring me here to talk about theology, Alessio."

"No," I admit. "I brought you here because I don't like being lied to."

She tenses.

Good.

"Your file was forged," I continued. "Your background doesn't check. Even your accent is inconsistent."

Her eyes darken. "So you think I'm a spy?"

"I think you're something. But I haven't decided if I want to expose you... or protect you."

She doesn't move, but the air shifts.

"That depends on what you want from me," she says slowly.

"I want the truth."

She crosses her arms. "And if I don't give it to you?"

"I'll find it anyway."

"You're not as cold as you pretend to be," she says after a pause.

"I am," I lied.

"No. You're angry. But not heartless."

"You don't know me."

"I know you saved that girl today. The one who tripped. You moved before anyone else did."

"She was going to smash her face on the floor."

"Exactly. You cared."

"Don't confuse instinct with empathy."

She steps closer.

I don't move.

"Do you want this?" she asks. "This circus your father built?"

My jaw tightens. "It doesn't matter what I want."

"Of course it does. You're the heir."

"And that means I follow orders."

"You don't strike me as someone who follows anything."

"You'd be surprised."

Silence builds between us like static.

She breaks it.

"What's the point of all this, Alessio? Fifty women, fifty days, power plays and cameras? You're a Riccardo. You could marry anyone you wanted."

"This isn't about marriage."

"Then what?"

"Control. For him."

"Your father?"

I nod. "He's testing loyalty. Watching to see who breaks. Who begs. Who bleeds."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you being tested too?"

I look at her.

And for a second, I don't want to lie.

"Yes."

She exhales. Just once.

"I'm not who you think I am," she says softly.

"I know."

"But I'm not here to hurt you."

"Then why are you here?"

She opens her mouth.

Close it.

And that's when I know, whatever her reason is, it's big.

Bigger than the game.

Bigger than me.

A sudden creak in the wood behind her.

I snap to attention.

Hand to my belt...gun already halfway drawn.

She freezes.

"What is it?" she whispers.

I step past her, eyes scanning the dark.

Another creak. Then silence.

I move toward the back exit-past the pulpit, past the boarded-up confessional.

Empty.

But something's off.

The air smells wrong. Like oil and smoke.

"Eva-get down-"

A second too late.

The back wall explodes in splinters as a bullet punches through the old wood, narrowly missing her shoulder.

She drops. I dive.

Gun drawn.

Return fire-one, two shots into the trees beyond.

Whoever it was is gone before the echo fades.

"Are you hit?" I ask, kneeling beside her.

She shakes her head. "No. Just-just shook."

I pulled her up. "We need to move. Now."

She stumbles once, then straightens.

"Why would someone be watching the chapel?" she asks breathlessly.

"They weren't watching," I say grimly. "They were waiting."

We sprint across the lawn, ducking under hedges, weaving through shadows until we're at the east wing.

I disable the side alarm, punch the keycode. Door clicks.

We're in.

Safe. For now.

I lock it behind us.

Then I turn on her.

"You brought this on us."

Her jaw clenches. "You think I called a hit on myself?"

"You said you weren't here to hurt me. Doesn't mean you're not being followed."

"I don't have a tail."

"Then explain why someone just tried to shoot you."

She looks me dead in the eye.

And says-

"I think they were trying to shoot you."