Shadows of the Past (chapt.8)

Alessia's POV

"How did you get this?" I breathed, the picture still trembling between my fingers.

Sophia did not react right away. Her eyes flashed to the side, and I could feel her jaw locked. Something crossed her face—hesitation, even guilt. But it wasn't so much the photograph that haunted me. It was what it stood for. Him. Alive. Breathing. Real. That ghost I'd buried under a world of anger, loss, and shattered dreams.

"Soph," I barked, my voice tighter this time. "Where did you find this?

She regarded me, something enigmatic coursing through her eyes. "It's easier if I show you rather than tell."

The manner in which she said it sent a shiver through me. As if she knew already what it would do to me. As if she knew that when I saw what she had to share, I would not come back the same. And for a moment, I was going to say no. To keep the door closed. But curiosity—it's a cruel mistress. It winds around your neck until you're gagging on the truth.

Before I could dial her again, my phone rang.

Daniel.

I glanced at the screen, answering immediately. "Yes?"

"Boss…" He sounded tense. Alert. "There are men from Volkov's headquarters outside the office. They say it's urgent. They won't leave until they speak to you in person."

My gut twisted.

Sophia saw the change in my expression, sitting up straighter.

"Who are they?" I asked.

"They didn't inform me. But one of them gave me a name… said he's Nikolai's envoy."

The word "envoy" seemed to come out of the pages of a cold war thriller. I swallowed hard and nodded, though Daniel couldn't see me.

"I'm on my way."

Sophia rose without hesitation, already putting on her coat over her arms. We didn't say a word. Just looks.

Whatever storm had erupted tonight—this wasn't just about a company anymore.

It was personal.

The ride home was quiet, except for the hum of tires on rain-slick blacktop. Milan after dark smear-scrolled past the windows, neon seeping into the darkness like spilled secrets. The building loomed ahead, the lights still on even now, as if it did not rest, either.

Daniel met us at the door, his posture stiff.

"They're upstairs."

No hesitation, we rode in the elevator. Air within was too restricted, suffocating my lungs. Sophia had not made a sound, but I felt her energy—quiet, fiery. Something was different tonight. Something was. off.

The doors of the elevator opened, and the corridor felt abnormally quiet. Too quiet.

There was a single man waiting outside my office. Standing in a spotless slate-grey suit, spine straight, face unwavering. There was an aura about him that put people off before they approached.

"Miss De Luca," he said with a subtle nod of the head.

"CEO to you," I snapped back, voice icy.

He did not blink.

"This is for you." He handed me a sealed, black envelope.

I touched it tentatively, fingers slipping along the oily surface.

"Have this before the board of investors at ten a.m. sharp," he went on.

I glared. "What is it?"

"The formal submission. Mr. Volkov's people finalized the terms overnight. He sent for me to have it taken to you myself."

That prick. Always manipulating things behind my back.

I gestured curtly. "Inform him I received it."

The man nodded again before melting out of sight down the corridor without another word.

I looked down at the envelope. It was thicker than paper. Like it held tomorrow inside.

I thanked Daniel for his help tonight, then glanced at Sophia and smiled tiredly.

"I But… thank you. For being here. For always being here."

She tightened her grip on my hand. "Always, Ale. You know that."

"I'll see you in the morning."

"Call me if you need anything."

I saw her disappear down the hall before I walked towards the vehicle that would return me to the penthouse. My nerves were humming everywhere. I could sense myself needing to tear open the file, and no sooner had I reached my sitting room than that was exactly what I did.

Papers flowed, page after page filled with charts, estimates, property transfers, contractual provisions, and conditions that spun my head. The technical jargon was dense, and I couldn't tell whether this proposal would save the company—or kill it.

I tried reading it again, slowly. But nothing stuck. My mind was too tired. My emotions too tender.

And in contravention of all good sense, I took out my phone.

I shouldn't have.

But I did.

The phone rang once.

Twice.

And then his voice.

"Printsessa," Nikolai said, and damn him—he almost sounded amused. "Didn't think you'd call me so soon."

I hated the way my breath caught. Hated the sound of my name on his lips, silk gliding along a knife edge.

"I have the proposal," I said tightly.

"I know."

"There's a lot of it I don't understand."

He was silent for a beat. "That's not weakness, Alessia. That's honesty."

I blinked, taken aback.

"Would you like me to walk you through it?" he said, his voice softer now. Patient. As if he wasn't the man who'd tried to steal my business.

I hesitated… and then exhaled. "Yes."

And for half an hour, he stayed on the phone with me. Page by page. Clause by clause. His voice didn't rise. Didn't tease. He was patient. Focused. Professional.

And darn it, helpful.

I had no clue what game he was playing. Or whether this was some kind of manipulation that I couldn't quite pinpoint. But as soon as the call ended, I found myself staring at my phone, the quiet too deafening.

"Get some sleep," he had told me before he hung up. "You'll need it. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

I set the phone down on the table again, but my mind wasn't on the proposal anymore.

They weren't even on Nikolai.

It was on the photo.

On the impossible truth looking back at me in that photo.

He was alive.

My past.

My ghost.

The boy I loved before the world taught me how to bleed.

I curled up in the corner of the couch, knees drawn up to my chest, city lights pouring out below me. So much was unraveling all at once, and I was the one holding on to every fraying thread.

Tomorrow I had to meet with investors.

Tonight, I was forced to face myself.

And maybe…

The past I thought I had buried.