All Chapters of The Glass Rose : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Alessia Moretti’s POVWeddings are every girl’s dream…a happy home, a loving husband and the never ending sexual appeal. Mine was a nightmare, but I wanted to see how bad it could get.*Whoever said that never married the devil to stop a war.“Smile, Alessia,” my father said under his breath, his eyes darting to the camera crew and glaring at me “The press are watching.”“I hope they get my good side,” I muttered.He didn’t laugh. Of course he didn’t. Francesco Moretti didn’t believe in humor, only in power, silence, and strategic alliances. And today, I was his most valuable asset. Imagine entering a gold and crystal-encrusted ballroom where the ambiance is as ostentatious and manufactured as the people clinking their glasses and whispering to each other behind their manicured smiles. What do I mean? Imagine a crowd full of people you know, each one a killer in high-end shoes, a thief in a tuxedo. Is it not unbelievable that they are all acting as though this wedding is more than a

Alessia Moretti’s POVThe thing about silence is it lies to you. It tells you you’re safe, alone, untouched.Until it breaks.And by then, it’s too late.I stared at the empty hallway Lucien left behind. The echo of his voice still clung to the walls like cigarette smoke.“Someone should be dead,” he said.Someone who left a note in my drawer. With Enzo’s name on it. With a warning I couldn't ignore.I clutched the envelope to my chest and whispered., “What are you trying to tell me, Enzo?”I didn’t sleep. Instead, I sat by the window, watching the grounds for movement. At some point, I changed out of the robe and into black jeans and a sweater. It felt more like armor than silk ever could.When the knock came at my door just after six, I didn’t flinch.I opened it.Giada stood there in jeans and a hoodie, her dark curls tied back, she didn't look like someone that slept. “You’re early,” I said.“You texted me at four in the morning with ‘come alone.’ I figured something was on fire.

Alessia Moretti’s POVThe last time I saw Lucien’s face that pale, there was blood on his hands.This time, it wasn’t his.“What is it?” I asked.He didn’t answer. He just stared at his phone like it had teeth.“Lucien.”He turned the screen to me.The video was shaky, grainy. A girl. Young. Gagged. Hands bound behind her back.She was crying. Not loudly. Not theatrically. Quiet tears. Real fear.“Who is she?” I asked.“My sister,” he said.My heart sank. “Lucien…”He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just replayed the video again.I touched his arm. “Talk to me.”“She was supposed to be in Paris. I moved her there three years ago. After my father…” He stopped. Jaw clenched. “I swore no one would ever touch her again.”“Who sent it?”“No number. No trace.”The voice at the end was what turned my stomach. Calm. Smirking. Familiar in a way I couldn’t place.“I hear you’ve been digging, Lucien. Time to bury what you love.”I looked at him. “This is about us. About what we found.”He nodded once

Alessia Moretti’s POV“I watched them bury her. I saw the coffin go into the ground.”Lucien didn’t look away from his phone. “Then explain why she’s texting my contact from the docks.”“That’s impossible.”“She’s not a ghost, Alessia.”“She’s not supposed to be anything. Isabella Romano died. Two bullets. Open casket.”Rafael crossed his arms. “You sure about that? Because dead people don’t usually run shadow ops.”I stepped back, heart pounding. “My father never mentioned anything. Not after she died.”Lucien looked at me. “What was she to him?”“A trophy. A way to rub it in people’s faces that he could still love after my mother. Or pretend to.”“Pretend?”“She used to smile like she owned the room. But it never reached her eyes. She hated me. And Enzo.”“Why?” Rafael asked.“Because we weren’t hers. And she wanted everything he had.”Lucien lowered his voice. “What if she got it?”I stared at him. “What do you mean?”“Isabella’s smart. Manipulative. Ambitious. If she faked her dea

Alessia Moretti’s POV“She has Matteo.”I looked at the words on my screen like they were fake. Like I hadn’t just heard them over the call.Lucien’s voice cut through the static. “Say that again.”“She took my brother. She’s got him.”“Where? When?”“I don’t know. The call was scrambled. Burner line.”He cursed and snatched the phone from my hand. “Rafael, trace that number.”“Already trying. The signal bounced through five countries in two seconds. Whoever she hired are professionals.”I turned, gripping the rusted rooftop rail so hard the metal bit into my palm. “She was never after me. She was after him.”“Why would she want Matteo?” Lucien asked.“He’s leveraged. She knew I’d never switch sides for her. But Matteo?”“He’s not in this life,” Lucien said.“He’s my blood,” I snapped. “That’s enough.”He stepped back. “I didn’t mean it that way.”“You never do.”Silence continued between us, thick and sharp.“Where was he last?” Lucien asked.“London. University. Studying finance.”R