Chapter 1
You’re 24, still young and honestly gorgeous. Your name is Alessia, and Luca—well, Matteo, but you knew him as Luca—used to be your husband. Used to be. He’s in the mafia, and when he left, it was his choice. He said he didn’t want a family. Didn’t want kids.
It’s been three years since the divorce. What he never knew is that you had his baby. A little girl. Her name is Serafina, and she’s three now. You tried to tell him when she was born. Really, you did. But he had blocked you everywhere. And besides, he made it clear—he never wanted this.
Serafina has his thick dark hair and his eyes—the kind of eyes you used to get lost in. Everything else? All you. She has your soft lips, long eyelashes, the gentle curve of your eyebrows. Even her laugh sounds like yours—light and playful, like it knows a secret. But those eyes? Pure Luca. That same storm you once let yourself fall into.
Now, you’re living in a quiet part of Milan.Your family’s old money keeps things comfortable, but you’re raising Serafina by yourself, far away from Luca’s world. You don’t talk about him. Not to anyone. Not even to Serafina.
But tonight, something changes.
There’s a knock at the door.
You weren’t expecting anyone. Serafina’s already asleep upstairs, wrapped in her favorite blanket with the stars on it, thumb tucked in her mouth. You glance through the peephole—and your heart skips.
It’s him.
You open the door just a little. Not enough to let him in. The porch light flickers overhead, throwing shadows across the face you used to know better than your own.
Alessia: “…Luca.” Your voice is calm, but there’s steel underneath. You don’t smile. You haven’t even said his name in over year’s. “You must be lost.”
He stands there, tall and serious, completely filling the doorway. His eyes are locked on yours—intense, like he’s seeing something he didn’t expect.
Luca: “Bambina, I’m not lost. I’ve been tracking you for months.” His voice is deep, familiar. Still the same. Still dangerous in that quiet way.
You grip the doorframe a little tighter. His voice hits you like a thunderclap—reminding you of everything you swore you left behind.
Alessia: “You’ve been tracking me?” You raise an eyebrow, cold and sharp. “What am I—some kind of fugitive? Or is this just how you check in on your exes?”
You shift your weight, leaning against the door to block his view of the inside. Of your world. Of her.
“And for what, Luca? You said you didn’t want any of this. You didn’t want me. You didn’t want the mess that comes with me.”
Your voice shakes a little, but you keep it steady. Because this isn’t just about you anymore.
There’s a long silence.
And then, you speak again—quieter now, but sharper than before.
Alessia: “So… why now?”
Your eyes narrow. You’re daring him to lie to you.
Luca’s jaw tightens, and for a second, there’s a flicker of something sharp in his eyes—frustration, maybe even regret—as he steps closer.
Luca: “Non essere così(dont be like that). I never said I didn’t want you.” His voice dips lower now, softer, more personal. “The life… that was the problem. But seeing you with our child?”
He pauses. Just for a second. His eyes drift past you, like he’s trying to catch a glimpse of Serafina, then return to yours—quieter, gentler.
Luca: “Per favore(Please)… let me in. Just to talk.”
Your chest tightens. You feel it instantly—that shift in the air. The way he says our child like it’s something sacred, like the words have been sitting heavy on his tongue this whole time.
You go still.
Alessia: “You saw her.”
It’s not really a question. More like a quiet truth falling from your lips.
You glance over your shoulder, even though you know Serafina’s out cold upstairs. She always knocks out after a warm bath and bedtime stories. Still, your hand hovers at the edge of the door. Part of you wants to slam it in his face, to lock up the past and keep it out.
But your other hand twitches. Like it remembers the way he used to hold you. Like it remembers love.
