Alessio
Alessio Moretti does not believe in coincidence, not when he has the power to create one himself.
He stood by the windows of his penthouse office, with the sun setting behind him. He put one hand in his pocket, the other twirling a crystal glass of whiskey, untouched.
"I want the dean's assistant on the phone," he said without turning.
Alex, his right-hand man, barely blinked. "Which school?"
"Bellrose College of Medicine."
Alex gave a subtle nod. "On it."
"Make a donation to the school while you are at it."
"You want it in your name or the foundation's?"
Alessio sipped the whiskey. "Mine. No hiding."
"Okay Sir."
"Arrange for me to give a speech during the event."
He wasn't the kind of man who gave speeches, care about people or smiled politely in photos. But, because of Aria, he will go it just to see the expression on her face when she sees him.
"She won't see it coming," he muttered to himself, chuckling.
Alex raised a brow. "You sure you want to go this route? A public appearance? Cameras? Students? That's a lot of eyes."
"That's the point," Alessio said. "I want her off balance. She's been too quiet since the hospital. I want to see her in her world. Where she feels safe. I want to see how she reacts when that world isn't as untouched as she thinks."
Alex exhaled, clearly holding back a smirk. "You want her rattled."
"I want her real," Alessio corrected. "The version without the fake smiles and polite small talk."
"I want a stage, a speech, and five minutes with her after," Alessio continued. "Alone."
Alex blinked. "You're not going to hurt her, are you?"
Alessio's jaw ticked. "I don't even know if I want to kiss her or crush her."
"She might already be in too deep," Alex said carefully. "You saw what we found. Her dad, the debts. You think she's part of something or a spy?"
Alessio's eyes narrowed. "That's what I plan to find out."
He turned fully now, his tone hard.
"Get me on that stage. I want her to see that she's not the only one playing a game."
---
Aria
She didn't want to go to school. Her shift had ended late. Her legs ached. Her mind was fogged from barely four hours of sleep and even less peace. But Valentina had insisted.
"Attendance is compulsory," she'd said, waving a perfectly manicured hand. "Besides, the speaker is someone big. Mafia-big."
Aria had laughed it off then, thinking it was one of Valentina's many exaggerations.
But the moment she walked into the auditorium, her heart stopped.
Because there, on stage, standing like he owned the damn school, was Alessio Moretti.
Not a lookalike. Not a hallucination.
Him.
Black suit, no tie. Hair slicked back. Eyes so dark that it looked like midnight, scanned the crowd with that calm, confident arrogance that comes from being so successful at a young age.
Aria stopped mid-step. Students filed past her, murmuring and whispering.
"…heard he owns like five hospitals…"
"…isn't he into real estate too?"
"…some say he's mafia-connected."
If only they knew.
Her pulse thundered as she slid into a seat near the back, her fingers ice-cold. What was he doing here?
She never expected him to come to her school to give a speech.
He hadn't spoken to her since the hospital.
No calls. No texts. Just… silence.
But now he was here. On her campus. Speaking at her school. Standing exactly where she couldn't avoid him.
Aria's phone buzzed in her pocket.
Valentina:
> Told you he'd come.
She looked up, scanning the crowd. Val was sitting three rows ahead, legs crossed, lips curled in a smug little smirk. She didn't look surprised. She looked like she knew this would happen.
Of course she did.
Valentina always knew.
Aria typed quickly.
Aria:
> What is he doing here??
Valentina:
> Giving a motivational speech. To future doctors. About investment, discipline, and saving lives. Cute, right?
Aria:
> This isn't normal. Do you think he might be here for me?
Val didn't reply.
On stage, Alessio adjusted the mic, and the room fell into an eerie silence, his voice smooth and low echoing through the room, holding that kind of command that made people listen—not because he raised it, but because they were afraid to miss what he might say.
"I'm not here to inspire you," he began bluntly, scanning the room.
The audience let out a confused ripple of laughter. But his expression didn't shift.
"I'm here because sometimes, life isn't about following dreams. It's about surviving them."
That silenced them.
Aria tilted her head, studying him. His words were personal—too personal. She sensed the sharp edge beneath every syllable, the weight of something unspoken. And then he looked at her again.
Dead in the eyes.
It wasn't subtle. It wasn't casual.
It was deliberate.
And her heart stopped beating in her chest
She sat up straighter, her fingers clenching her pen. Why was he looking at her like that? Does he recognise her?
He continued. "People often ask me what drives me. Power? Legacy? Revenge? But the truth is, I don't need a reason. I need results."
"I won't take much of your time," he said. "I'm not a doctor. I'm not here to talk about anatomy or diagnosis. I'm here because people in power—whether it's through medicine or money—shape the world."
"You all chose to save lives," Alessio continued. "I chose to own the rooms where life-and-death decisions are made. Different paths. Same pressure. Same war."
Students clapped. Aria didn't move.
She didn't hear the rest of his speech. Just the drumbeat of her heart. The burn of his gaze.
He was watching her.
Studying her.
And when the applause rang out minutes later, he stepped off the stage.
Aria immediately tried to look for the exit closest to her.
This was no coincidence.
He came here for her, and she was not ready.
Not yet.