Chapter 63 Truth

Chapter 63 Truth
Lucia’s POV

The number of times I’ve caught Giovanni gazing intensely at Alessia like he forgot where he was is something to think about. 

She’s my bestfriend. There’s a part of me that constantly wants to protect her from everything. But another part of me just wants her to experience this.

My mind drifts back to Nico. He was standing too close when I almost slipped. Dante watched without saying anything. And the thought of that lingers longer than the rest

I pull a dry shirt over my head and pause when I hear a knock on my door.

I already know before I open it. And when I do, I am correct.

Nico is standing there. Not in the way he stood at the pool, not in front of people, not surrounded by noise or distraction, but fully present in a way that makes the air feel slightly heavier than it should be.

My hand tightens on the edge of the door.

“What are you doing here?” I ask immediately, because there is no reason to pretend this is normal.

His eyes move briefly over my face, then past me into the room before returning.

“We need to talk.”

I let out a short breath through my nose. “No, we don’t.”

His expression shifts into recognition. Like he knew I was going to resist

“I think we do,” he says simply.

I step slightly into the hallway, closing the door behind me with more control than I feel.

“There is nothing left to talk about.”

“You say that a lot for someone who still reacts when I call you princess.”

My jaw tightens immediately. “Don’t start that again.”

He watches me for a second longer than necessary.

Then he exhales, slow, almost tired. “You haven’t changed.”

I glare at him. “That is not an insult.”

“It wasn’t meant to be one,” he replies.

The hallway feels too narrow suddenly, like it is forcing proximity that neither of us asked for.

I fold my arms. “If you’re here for Dante, then go to Dante.”

“I already did,” he says.

That stops me slightly. My brows pull together.

“Then what do you want?”

For the first time, something shifts in his expression that I cannot immediately read.

“We should not be in the same space like this,” he says.

I let out a quiet laugh before I can stop it. “That is your concern now?”

“It should have been your concern a long time ago.”

The words land differently than I expect. I step closer without meaning to.

“You disappeared,” I say, voice lower now, controlled in a way that takes effort. “Years. No explanation. No warning. Nothing. And now you appear in my house and decide what should or should not be my concern?”

His gaze holds mine. “You think I had a choice?”

“You assume people come into your life because they want to,” he says. “Sometimes they come because they were told to.”

The words do not register immediately.

I stare at him. “What are you talking about?”

“What i’m about to say will hurt you, Princess.” He says matter-of-factly.

I narrow my eyes at him, trying to decipher what he could possibly want to say.

Then he says it. “I was hired.”

Silence. Absolute silence.

My throat tightens slightly before I even understand why.

“Hired,” I repeat slowly, like the word doesn’t belong in this sentence.

He nods once. “To meet you.”

For a moment, I actually laugh. It comes out sharp. Disbelieving.

“That is not funny.”

“I am not joking,” he says.

The way he says it stops the laughter immediately.

My hands drop slightly from my arms.

“No,” I say quietly, already shaking my head once. “No, that doesn’t make sense. We met in school.”

“Yes.”

“And we—” I stop, because the memory tries to rise all at once. “We dated.”

Another pause. “Yes.”

The silence that follows feels different now.

He continues, voice lower. “Everything was structured.”

My breathing changes without permission. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” he says carefully, “I was given instructions. A profile. A target timeline. A goal.”

My stomach tightens. “No,” I say again, firmer now, like repetition can undo it. “No, Nico, you don’t get to say things like that.”

His expression does not change. “That is the truth.”

My voice rises slightly despite myself.

“So every moment,” I say, stepping closer now, anger replacing disbelief, “every place you took me, every conversation, every time you—”

I stop. Because my voice breaks slightly at the edge of it.

He doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t defend himself.

So I continue anyway, quieter now. “You proposed.”

“Yes,” he says.

My hands curl slightly at my sides. “I wore your ring.”

“I know.”

“I thought—” I stop again, jaw tightening. “I thought we were real.”

Something flickers in his expression then. It wasnt guilt or denail

But it disappears quickly.

“It wasn’t supposed to go that far,” he says.

That sentence lands worse than anything before it.

I stare at him. “…What?”

He exhales slowly. “You were not the original objective,” he continues. “You were meant to be information access. Proximity. Influence. Nothing permanent.”

My voice drops. “Who hired you?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. And that silence is answer enough.

I take another step back without realizing it. “You’re telling me,” I say slowly, carefully, “that somebody hired you to date me.”

His jaw tightens slightly.

“Yes.”

“And you accepted.”

“Yes.”

My chest tightens. “And you almost married me.”

Another pause.

“Yes.”

For a moment, I cannot speak. Not because I don’t have words. Because I have too many.

When I finally do, my voice is low. “Why are you telling me this now?”

His gaze holds mine. “Because I didn’t want you finding out the wrong way.”

I let out a short, disbelieving breath. “There is no right way to find that out.”

I step forward again, voice sharper now. “So what am I supposed to do with that?”

His expression finally shifts slightly.

Not softer.

Just more controlled.

“Nothing,” he says. “That is not why I’m here.”

I laugh once, but there is no humor in it anymore.

“Then why are you here, Nico?”

A pause.

Longer this time.

Then, carefully:

“Because I needed to make sure you weren’t still in danger.”

My eyes narrow immediately.

“From who?”