Leo's POV
The shovel hit the dirt with a sound that made my teeth hurt.
I stood there watching them bury the woman I was supposed to marry in three days. The workers moved fast, throwing dirt on top of Alessia's white coffin like they wanted to forget she ever existed. Each thud of earth made something twist inside my chest.
"Mr. Cavalcanti, we should go." My bodyguard Marco touched my shoulder. "The rain is getting worse."
I didn't move. Couldn't move. The cemetery was empty now except for us. Everyone else had left after the priest said his words. They went home to their warm houses and hot dinners while Alessia lay in that cold box six feet under.
"Sir?"
"Two more minutes," I said.
The rain was coming down hard now, turning the dirt into mud. My expensive suit was getting soaked, but I didn't care. Money couldn't bring her back. Money couldn't fix this.
Three days ago, Alessia had been laughing at something I said. She was making plans for our wedding. She was alive and warm and mine. Now she was nothing but silence and a hole in the ground.
"The car accident wasn't your fault," Marco said quietly.
I turned to look at him. Marco had been with my family for ten years. He was like a brother to me, but right now I wanted to punch him in the face.
"I know that," I lied.
But deep down, I knew it was my fault. I should have been with her that night. I should have driven her home myself instead of letting her take that car. The car that crashed into the river. The car that killed her.
"The police said the brakes failed," Marco continued. "These things happen."
"No," I said. "They don't."
I had checked that car myself the week before. Everything was perfect. The brakes were new. The tires were good. Someone had messed with it. Someone had wanted Alessia dead.
But who? And why?
Thunder crashed overhead, and lightning lit up the sky. The workers were finishing up, packing their tools. Soon there would be nothing left but a headstone and my broken heart.
"We really should go," Marco said again.
"You go. I'll walk."
"In this storm? That's crazy."
Maybe it was crazy. Maybe I was crazy. Nothing made sense anymore. The world had turned upside down, and I was falling through it with no way to stop.
Marco sighed but didn't argue. He knew better than to push me when I was like this. "I'll have the car follow you," he said, then walked away.
I was alone with her now. Just me and the fresh grave and the rain.
"I'm sorry," I whispered to the dirt. "I'm so sorry, Alessia."
The wind picked up, making the trees dance like ghosts. I pulled my coat tighter and started walking toward the cemetery gates. Each step felt like walking through thick mud, even though the path was stone.
Halfway there, I stopped. Something was wrong. The feeling hit me like a punch to the gut. I turned around and looked back at Alessia's grave.
The dirt was moving.
Not from the rain. Not from the wind. Like something was pushing up from underneath.
My heart started beating so hard I could hear it over the storm. I ran back to the grave, my shoes slipping on the wet grass. The dirt was definitely moving, making a small hill in the middle of the flat ground.
"What the hell?" I dropped to my knees and started digging with my bare hands. The mud was cold and slimy, getting under my fingernails and staining my clothes. I didn't care. I had to know what was happening.
My fingers hit something hard. Not the coffin. Something smaller. I pulled it out of the dirt and held it up to the lightning.
It was a white envelope, sealed with red wax. The kind of envelope rich people used for important letters. But this one was covered in blood. Fresh blood that was still wet despite the rain.
My hands shook as I broke the wax seal. Inside was a single piece of paper with words written in black ink:
"She knew too much. You're next."
The paper fell from my fingers like it was on fire. I stared at it lying there in the mud, the words already starting to blur from the rain. But I had read them. I knew what they said.
Someone had killed Alessia because she knew something. And now they were coming for me.
I grabbed the bloody envelope and shoved it in my pocket. My mind was racing, trying to make sense of what was happening. Who would want to hurt Alessia? She was sweet and kind and never hurt anyone. She spent her days working at the animal shelter and reading books. What could she possibly know that was worth killing for?
Lightning flashed again, and in that bright moment, I saw something that made my blood turn to ice.
A figure stood at the edge of the cemetery, watching me. Too far away to see clearly, but close enough to know they were there. Waiting. Watching.
I stood up fast, my heart pounding like a drum. "Hey!" I yelled. "Hey, you!"
The figure turned and ran into the darkness between the trees. I started to chase them, but my feet slipped on the wet ground. By the time I got to the edge of the cemetery, they were gone.
I stood there breathing hard, rain dripping from my hair into my eyes. The bloody envelope felt heavy in my pocket, like it weighed a thousand pounds. Alessia was dead, and someone was threatening me. But why? What had she known? What had she discovered?
I pulled out my phone and called Marco. "Pick me up," I said when he answered. "Now."
"Where are you?"
"Cemetery gates. And Marco? We need to talk."
"About what?"
I looked back at Alessia's grave one more time. The dirt was flat now, like nothing had happened. Like I had imagined the whole thing. But the envelope in my pocket was real. The blood was real. The threat was real.
"About how my fiancée really died," I said.
"Leo, we've been over this. It was an accident."
"No," I said, watching the darkness for any sign of movement. "It wasn't."
I hung up and waited in the rain, my hand on the gun hidden under my coat. Someone had killed the woman I loved. Someone was threatening me. But they had made one big mistake.
They had made me angry.
And when Leonardo Cavalcanti got angry, people died.