Alessia Romano didn't let distractions slow her down. The office was buzzing with meetings, contracts, and financial reports, but she moved through it all like a storm — sharp, precise, unstoppable.
Then, her phone buzzed. A private number.
"Hope you love the flowers I got for you, my lovely queen."
Alessia froze, reading it twice. Flowers? Nobody sends me flowers.
Curiosity prickled at her, but she shook it off. She left her office in a rush, papers and files abandoned on her desk, and stormed down the marble staircase.
"Attention!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the chatter of employees. "Did anyone see anyone drop flowers for me? Did anyone deliver anything?"
Silence.
Her eyes narrowed. "I said, did anyone?"
A young office boy, barely twenty, stepped forward hesitantly. "Yes… ma'am. But your father's brother took it from me. He said you don't need such things."
Alessia's eyes flared with fury. "How dare he take what belongs to me!" Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
And yet… as she stood there, she felt something strange — a flutter, a warmth she hadn't expected. Why am I worried about flowers? she thought. I'm Alessia Romano. I don't need flowers.
But for reasons she didn't want to admit even to herself, she felt that she deserved them. Even a strong, fierce woman like her deserved a little softness.
She marched angrily toward her uncle's office, her heels echoing like gunshots against the marble.
"Where are the flowers?" she demanded, her voice sharp as a whip.
Her uncle raised his hands defensively. "I… I thought it wasn't important. I didn't want—"
"It's none of your business!" Alessia cut him off. "Whatever anyone sends to me belongs to me. Understand?"
Her uncle swallowed hard. "I… I'm sorry, Alessia. I… I trashed them."
Alessia's jaw dropped. "You did what?!"
Her chest burned with anger, but beneath it, she felt something else — irritation mixed with a strange disappointment, as if the universe had teased her just enough to show that even she, the unstoppable Alessia Romano, could have a soft spot.
She stormed back to her office, pacing. Why did a simple bouquet of flowers make her pulse race? Why did she even care?
A little voice in her mind whispered — perhaps, even the strongest women deserve a touch of tenderness…
Somewhere, far away, a shadow smiled silently. Mission accomplished — and yet, the game had only just begun.