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ELENA

“You need to leave. You’ve become my weakness.”

Valeris’s voice was low, steady, but her eyes betrayed her. They were darker than I had ever seen them. I saw the fear she tried to dress as control. She stood a few feet away from me, her hands clasped behind her back like she was holding herself together by force alone.

I laughed softly, because the alternative was breaking.

“Funny,” I said. “I didn’t realise I had that kind of power.”

She didn’t smile.

“That’s exactly the problem, Elena.”

The room smelled of rain, gun oil and something expensive I couldn’t name. Outside, the sound of thunder rumbled like a warning. Inside, my heart was beating too fast, too loudly like it was trying to escape my chest.

“I’m not asking,” she continued. “I’m telling you. Leave tonight. Before I forget why I should let you.”

I wanted to ask her what she meant by those words. I wanted to ask her why her voice quivered when she said my name. I wanted to ask why her idea of protection felt like a loss

But I knew the truth. Loving Valeria Moretti was dangerous.

A few months ago.

If you had asked me then, I would have told you my life was simple.

Not perfect. Just steady.

Marcus and I had been together since our college days. We met during our second year. He was perfect in every way. He, with his easy smile and endless plans, and I, with my books and quiet ambition. We grew into each other. Or that was what I believed.

That evening, I stood in front of the mirror of our apartment, adjusting the strap of my dress. It was adeep emerald green dress, Marcus’s favourite colour on me. He always said it made my eyes look brighter.

“Are you ready, baby?” he called from the living room.

“Two minutes babe,” I replied, smoothing the fabric over my hips.

It was a charity function, something about education reform and private funding as Marcus had explained. He said it was important to him. The networking, exposure, he said it was good for his business. Those were the usual words he used when he wanted me to attend events that made me uncomfortable.

When I walked into the living room, he stopped talking mid-sentence.

He was leaning against the couch, already dressed in his tailored black suit, his tie loosened just enough to look effortless. When his eyes landed on me, they softened.

I loved moments like this so much.

“Wow,” he said, straightening. “You look…spellbindingly beautiful.”

I felt my cheeks warm. Marcus always knew the right words to say.

“Spellbindingly,” I teased. “Is that your word for the day?”

He smiled and crossed the room, placing his hands on my waist. “No. That’s just the effect you have on me now.”

I smiled back, resting my hands on his chest. I loved him. I was sure of that. We had history together, we shared memories and comfort. Love didn’t always have to feel explosive, right? A quiet love was enough. Safer.

He kissed my forehead and grabbed his keys. “Ready?”

I nodded. I was.

Or so I thought.

At the venue of the event, everything was grand: high ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and soft classical music filling the air. People moved around in expensive suits and dresses, laughing loudly, sipping champagne like it was water.

Marcus’s hand rested at the small of my back as we walked in.

“Relax, my love,” he whispered. “Just smile.”

I smiled.

That was when the room shifted.

I didn’t see her at first. I felt her.

It was subtle, like there was a change in the atmosphere. Conversations became shallow, laughter quieter. My chest tightened for reasons I couldn’t name.

Then I saw her.

She walked like she owned the place, not too loud, not arrogant in any way. But with the kind of presence that drew attention toward her effortlessly. She wore a black suit instead of a dress, tailored perfectly to her body. Her dark hair was pulled back neatly, exposing her sharp jawline and eyes that seemed to see everything and nothing at the same time.

Valeria.

I didn’t know her name yet, but my breath hitched all the same.

“Marcus,” I whispered, my fingers tightening on his arm. “Who’s that?”

He followed my gaze and let out a low whistle. “That? That’s Valeria Moretti.”

Something about the way he said it made my stomach twist; half admiration, half caution.

:She’s a big deal,” he continued. “Investor. Shipping. Real estate. Tech. Name it. No one really knows the full list.”

I watched her as she moved through the room, people stepping aside, greeting her with polite smiles that didn’t hide their nervousness.

“She’s beautiful,” I mumbled before I could stop myself.

Marcus chuckled. “Yeah. She has that effect on people.”

I didn’t answer.

But my heart raced. Why? Why did my palms suddenly feel damp? Why did I feel this strange urge to leave and stay at the same time?

Valeria turned toward our direction. Our eyes met.

It felt like a mistake. The way her gaze settled on me, slow and deliberate. Not hungry, not rude, just intense. Like she was taking me in, piece by piece.

I swallowed hard.

Why was I holding my breath?

“Elena,” Marcus said softly. “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

I tried to protest but it was already too late. He was leading me toward her.

Up close, she was even more striking. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was commanding. Her presence was calm but heavy, like standing too close to deep water.

“Valeria,” Marzus said, with a wide grin. “Good evening. You look radiant as ever.”

She turned her attention to him. “Marcus, you’re late.”

“Traffic,” he said quickly. “I wanted to introduce you to my girlfriend. Elena.”

Girlfriend.

The word echoed in my head.

Valeria turned to me. “So,” she said in a smooth, controlled accent I couldn’t place. “You’re Elena.”

“Yes,” I replied, forcing a smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She extended her hand. When our fingers touched, A strange jolt ran through my spine, sharp and unexpected. I pulled my hand quickly, embarrassed.

Her lips curved into a small smile.

“Marcus tells me you’re an art curator,” she said.

I blinked. “I….um, yes. I am.”

“He talks about you often, now I see why,” she said.

Marcus laughed nervously. “Only good things, babe, I promise.”

“I’m sure,” Valeria said, though her eyes never left mine.

She stared at me like she was trying to read through my skin. It made me uneasy. But I felt seen, like I was the only woman in the room.

“You’re so beautiful, Elena,” she added.

The compliment was polite, simple. Yet my heart jumped like I had been caught doing something wrong.

“Thank you,” I said. “That’s kind of you.”

“Oh I can be more than kind, darling,” she said, biting her lower lip.

I turned my gaze away; my heart was pounding so heavily that one could hear it. Maybe it was just my nerves acting up. I told myself, noting more.

Valeria nodded once, stepping back. I’ll leave you lovebirds to it. Enjoy the evening.”

And just like that, she was gone.

The rest of the night blurred together. Marcus talked business with some clients whose names I couldn’t remember.

But my attention kept drifting.

Every time Valeria came into my line of sight, my chest tightened. I watched her laugh quietly with some guests, I watched her listen more than she spoke. Watched how people leaned in when she talked, as if her words carried weight.

“Are you okay?” Marcus asked at one point.

“Yes,” I said almost too quickly. “Just tired.”

He kissed my cheek. “We’ll leave soon.”

I nodded.

As we walked out later, I glanced back once more at the building.

Valeria was standing alone near the window, the city lights behind her like a crown of stars.

She looked up and our eyes met again.

This time, she didn’t look away.

I told myself that it meant nothing.

It was just a moment, just a woman, just a quick glance.

I went home with my boyfriend, fell asleep beside him and woke up to the usual life I always knew.

Little did I know that the woman with the calm eyes and dangerous quiet voice would one day look at me and tell me to leave because I was her weakness.