ALESSIA'S POV

I used to think marriage would feel different. Not perfect, not magical, but at least warm.

When I married Thiago Vasquez three years ago, I knew he wasn’t the kind of man who loved easily. Everyone knew that. Thiago was cold, controlled, and painfully devoted to his work. He was the type of man who walked into a room and made people nervous without even trying. Powerful men respected him, weaker men feared him, and women admired him from a distance because he carried himself like someone completely untouchable.

I knew all of that before I married him. What I didn’t know was how lonely it would feel standing beside someone who never truly wanted me there.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror while the sounds of the gala downstairs echoed faintly through the mansion. Music drifted through the halls along with laughter and conversations, blending into the usual atmosphere of wealth and perfection the Vasquez family loved presenting to the world.

Everything about this family was polished—the marble floors, the crystal chandeliers, the expensive paintings hanging across the walls. Even the people themselves looked carefully arranged, like every smile and every conversation had been rehearsed beforehand. And somehow, despite living here for years, I had never truly become part of it.

A soft knock interrupted my thoughts. I already knew it wasn’t Thiago before the door even opened.

“Mrs. Vasquez,” one of the maids said carefully after stepping inside, “Mr. Vasquez asked me to let you know the guests have arrived.”

I gave a small nod. “Thank you.”

The maid disappeared almost immediately, leaving the room quiet again. I looked back at my reflection. The silver gown I wore fit perfectly against my body, elegant enough for the occasion without looking too attention-seeking. Lucia had personally chosen the jewelry for me earlier that evening, insisting the diamonds matched the dress beautifully.

“You should wear brighter colors more often,” she had told me.

I remembered smiling at her then, even though I knew colors didn’t really matter anymore. Nothing did. Not when the man I married barely looked at me unless cameras were around.

I picked up my clutch purse and headed downstairs slowly. The moment I stepped into the ballroom, I felt it immediately—the attention. Not admiration. Recognition. People always noticed members of the Vasquez family.

The ballroom glowed beneath golden chandeliers while politicians, business partners, celebrities, and socialites filled the space with expensive perfume and carefully practiced smiles. Waiters moved between guests carrying champagne while photographers lingered near the entrance, waiting for opportunities to capture important faces.

My eyes found Thiago almost instantly. They always did. He stood near the center of the ballroom dressed in a black suit that looked like it had been made specifically for him. Calm confidence radiated from him naturally, pulling attention without effort. Men twice his age listened carefully when he spoke, and women watched him when they thought nobody would notice.

Thiago looked exactly like the kind of man people wrote about in magazines—untouchable, powerful, perfect. And standing beside him was Ivana Laurent.

Of course.

Something tight twisted inside my chest the moment I saw them together. Ivana looked beautiful in dark red silk, her hand resting lightly against Thiago’s arm while she smiled at something one of the investors was saying. She fit beside him effortlessly, like she belonged there in a way I never truly had.

The painful part wasn’t even their closeness anymore. It was how normal everyone acted around it. Nobody questioned why Ivana was always beside my husband. Nobody found it strange that she attended family events like she already belonged to the Vasquez family. At some point, people had simply accepted her place beside him. And maybe Thiago had too.

I walked toward them quietly, forcing myself to ignore the uncomfortable feeling building in my chest. Ivana noticed me first.

“There you are,” she said warmly, smiling as though we were close friends instead of two women silently tearing each other apart. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming downstairs tonight.”

Her tone sounded sweet enough to fool anyone listening nearby, but I knew Ivana too well. Every word she spoke carried intention behind it.

“I was getting ready,” I answered calmly.

Thiago finally looked at me. His expression barely changed.

“You’re late.”

That was it. No greeting. No compliment. Nothing.

I swallowed the familiar disappointment before replying softly. “The gala only started twenty minutes ago.”

Ivana’s gaze swept over my dress before she smiled again. “Silver suits you. It makes you look softer.”

Softer. Fragile. Forgettable.

I forced a polite smile anyway. “Thank you.”

Before anything else could be said, one of Thiago’s business associates approached him quickly.

“The mayor just arrived,” the man informed him.

Thiago nodded once. “I’ll be there shortly.”

And just like that, he walked away without another glance at me. The same way he always did. Like standing beside me was an obligation he tolerated rather than something he wanted.

Ivana watched him leave before turning back toward me slowly.

“You should stop looking surprised every time he walks away from you,” she said quietly.

I tightened my fingers around my purse. “I’m not surprised.”

Her smile deepened faintly. “That might actually be worse.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke. I had learned long ago that reacting emotionally around Ivana only gave her exactly what she wanted. And Ivana always wanted proof that she could hurt me.

She stepped closer, lowering her voice enough that nobody else would hear. “Do you know what I think?” she asked softly.

I looked at her silently.

“I think you keep hoping Thiago will eventually love you properly.” Her eyes held mine calmly. “But men like him don’t suddenly change, Alessia.”

I forced myself to stay composed even though the words stung more than I wanted to admit. “And yet you spend an awful lot of time around a man who doesn’t change,” I replied.

Ivana smiled slowly. “The difference is that Thiago actually wants me around.”

The words landed exactly where she intended them to. Still, I refused to let her see any reaction. A few seconds later, she walked away gracefully toward another group of guests, leaving me standing there alone. Again.

I reached for a champagne glass from a passing tray mostly to give myself something to hold. Across the ballroom, Thiago was already deep in conversation with politicians and investors, completely comfortable in the world he ruled so easily. Sometimes I wondered if he had ever wanted this marriage at all. Even on our wedding day, he had looked more composed than happy. Maybe I should have understood the truth back then.

“You look miserable.”

Lucia’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up to find her standing beside me holding two glasses of champagne.

“You always know exactly what to say,” I murmured dryly.

She handed me one of the glasses before glancing toward her brother across the ballroom. “You should stop watching him like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re still waiting for him to become someone else.”

I looked away quietly. Lucia sighed softly beside me. Out of everyone in the Vasquez family, she was the only person who had ever treated me kindly. Maybe because she understood better than anyone what it felt like to live inside a family where power mattered more than emotions.

Before I could answer her, the atmosphere inside the ballroom shifted suddenly. Conversations softened. People turned toward the entrance. And a second later, I understood why.

Nikolai Ricci Bellucci had arrived.

Even among people this wealthy and influential, Nikolai carried a presence that immediately changed the energy of a room. Tall, sharply dressed, and completely unreadable, he moved through the ballroom with calm confidence while guests greeted him carefully. Some people respected him. Most feared him. The Bellucci Syndicate controlled enough wealth and influence to rival even the Vasquez family, and everybody knew the tension between Nikolai and Thiago went far beyond ordinary business competition.

I had only spoken to Nikolai a few times before. Brief conversations. Formal interactions. But there was something unsettling about him. Something dangerous beneath the calmness he carried so naturally. As though he noticed far more than he ever revealed.

Almost as if he felt my gaze, Nikolai suddenly looked directly toward me. Our eyes met across the ballroom. And for reasons I couldn’t explain, my stomach tightened unexpectedly. Not because the look felt flirtatious. Because it felt observant. Like he was studying me.

I looked away first. Beside me, Lucia exhaled quietly. “Well… this should be interesting.”

Across the ballroom, Thiago had already approached Nikolai. The tension between them was immediate. Both men shook hands. Neither smiled. Photographers rushed toward them almost instantly, eager to capture two of the most powerful men in the city standing in the same room together. Business rivals. Enemies pretending to be civil.

I watched silently until something unexpected happened. Nikolai looked toward me again. This time, his gaze lingered longer. And strangely enough, it unsettled me more than Ivana’s cruel comments ever had. Because unlike everyone else in this family, Nikolai Ricci Bellucci looked at me like he actually saw me.

A few minutes later, Thiago returned. “I need you beside me for the press photos,” he said flatly. Not a request. Never a request.

I nodded quietly and followed him toward the photographers. The moment I stepped beside him, cameras immediately began flashing around us.

“Closer together.”

“Perfect.”

“Look at your wife, Mr. Vasquez.”

Thiago rested a hand lightly against my waist before finally looking at me. To everyone watching, we probably looked perfect together. Powerful. Elegant. Untouchable. But all I could feel was distance. Even the way he touched me felt cold. Practiced. Empty.

And suddenly, standing there beneath the flashing cameras, a strange feeling settled heavily inside my chest. Something wasn’t right. I couldn’t explain it. But deep down, I felt it clearly. Like something terrible was already beginning.

Then I noticed one of the household staff hurrying anxiously toward Thiago’s head of security near the staircase. The man whispered something urgently into his ear. And instantly, the color drained from the security chief’s face.

My stomach tightened painfully. Because whatever had just happened… somehow, I knew it had something to do with me.