Venice slept under a blanket of rain.
But inside the Volkov villa, fear refused to rest.
Ariana sat in the dim light of her room, the white rose still lying on her nightstand like a curse.
Her hands wouldn't stop trembling. Every time she blinked, she saw the note again
We found her. You're next.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
She didn't know who "we" was or what they wanted but every instinct screamed she was in danger.
The quiet shattered with the roar of an engine.
Moments later, the heavy front doors burst open.
Alexander stormed in, rain dripping from his coat, his eyes burning with fury and fear.
"Where is she?" he barked at the guard, striding up the staircase two steps at a time.
Before the staff could answer, Ariana appeared at the top of the stairs pale, shaken, still in her night robe.
Their eyes met.
For a heartbeat, everything went still.
Then he was beside her, grabbing her shoulders, scanning her face like he needed to see for himself she was alive.
"What happened?" His voice was rough, sharp with worry.
Ariana swallowed. "Someone was here. They left a note and a rose."
She handed it to him.
Alexander's jaw clenched as he read the message. The paper crumpled in his fist.
"Who else knows you're here?"
"No one," she whispered. "Except your staff and"
She stopped, realizing what she'd said.
His gaze hardened. "And who else, Ariana?"
She hesitated, afraid to speak the truth that she wasn't the woman he thought she was.
He turned away, running a hand through his hair. "This isn't a random threat. Someone knows more than they should."
Then, more quietly: "You should have called me."
"I tried," she said. "But your phone"
He looked back at her, eyes dark and unreadable. "Next time, you don't wait. You call me first. Always."
Something in his tone made her chest tighten. It wasn't a command.
It was protection.
Later, Alexander met with Rafael in the study, while Ariana listened from the corridor.
"The rose means something," Rafael said grimly. "In the underground circles it's a message from the White Circle. A syndicate that deals with disappearances, identity swaps, and ransom plots."
Alexander's eyes flickered. "Connected to Aria?"
"Possibly. There are whispers she got involved with one of their agents before she vanished."
A sharp silence followed.
Then Alexander said coldly, "Find them. I don't care what it takes."
When Rafael left, Alexander stood by the fireplace, lost in thought.
The flickering light caught his face the perfect mask of a billionaire but beneath it, cracks were forming.
He couldn't understand why this woman the one pretending to be his wife had begun to matter.
Why the thought of losing her burned deeper than betrayal itself.
That night, he knocked on her door.
Ariana opened it, surprise flashing in her eyes.
"Can't sleep?" she asked softly.
"No," he said. "Neither can you."
He stepped closer, the air between them thick with unspoken tension.
"You're not safe here," he murmured. "I'm moving you to the Milan estate tomorrow. More security. Less exposure."
She nodded, but her eyes searched his. "Why are you doing this for me?"
His hand brushed against her cheek, gentle yet possessive.
"Because whoever's after you" his voice dropped, low and dangerous "will have to go through me first."
Her breath caught.
For the first time, Ariana saw something in his eyes that wasn't cold control
but raw, unguarded fear of losing her.
As he turned to leave, lightning flashed, illuminating the rose still lying on the table.
The petals had started to wilt, turning crimson at the edges as if dipped in blood.
And beneath it, unnoticed by both, was a new note slipped under the door.
She's not who you think she is.