Chapter 23
The first message, I ignored.
Then the second.
Then the third.
Every time my phone vibrated, my stomach tightened but I never let my fingers hesitate. Delete. Block. Forget.
But they kept coming.
No matter how many numbers I blocked, how many messages I erased before I could fully register the words, Nico found a way. It was like he had endless numbers, endless ways to reach me, slipping through the cracks just when I thought it had stopped.
At first, I convinced myself it was nothing. A desperate attempt from a man who couldn't handle rejection. That was all it was, right? A delusion. A fantasy he had built in his head.
I never answered. Not once.
But the silence didn't stop him.
You were wearing white the first time I saw you. Do you remember? The lace one. You looked like a fucking angel.
I knew then, Alessa. You were meant to be mine.
A chill crawled down my spine as I read it.
My fingers trembled as I blocked the number, pressing delete like it would erase the feeling of being watched.
It didn't.
The next one came late at night.
Luca was next to me in bed, his breathing steady, his arm casually draped over my waist. The room was dark, illuminated only by moonlight filtering through the curtains.
I should have ignored it.
But my fingers twitched and before I could stop myself, I reached for my phone.
My pulse pounded beneath my skin, a slow, sick rhythm of dread as I read the text.
I turned my phone over, setting it facedown on the nightstand but I didn't sleep after that.
Not really.
I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of Luca's arm over me.
And for the first time I wished he would wake up. Because suddenly being alone in my own head felt too dangerous.
?????
I had started carrying my phone everywhere.
Not because I wanted to read the messages. But because the idea of leaving it unattended made my stomach twist.
What if Luca saw one?
What if Nico sent something worse?
What if-
Another buzz.
Does he touch you the way you deserve? Or does he just take what he wants?
I swallowed hard, the words making my stomach churn.
Delete. Block.
?????
Luca noticed.
Not the texts. Thank God. But the way I was acting.
"You are quiet." he said one night, watching me from across the living room.
I was curled up on the couch, pretending to watch TV but I could feel his eyes on me.
I shrugged, keeping my face neutral. "Just tired."
He didn't look convinced. "You have been saying that a lot lately."
I forced a small smile. "Maybe I need to start going to bed earlier."
Luca studied me for a long moment. Then he exhaled and set his phone down. "Come here."
I hesitated.
His voice dropped. "Alessa"
Slowly, I got up and crossed the room.
The moment I was close enough, Luca reached for my hand, tugging me between his legs. My back pressed against his chest, his arms caging me in.
His arms wrapped around me, his chin brushing the top of my head.
"If something is wrong, you should tell me." he murmured.
My throat tightened.
For a second, I almost told him.
But I could already picture his reaction. The accusations. The anger.
So instead, I shook my head and whispered, "Nothing is wrong."
His grip on me tightened slightly, like he didn't believe me.
But after a moment, he sighed, pressing a kiss in my hair. "Okay."
?????
The texts only got worse.
I clenched my jaw, my hands gripping the edge of the sink as I stared at my reflection in the mirror.
Luca and I weren't perfect but he wasn't the monster Nico was trying to paint him as.
Right?
Days passed, each one carrying the same routine.
Wake up. Delete the messages. Block the number. Pretend nothing was wrong.
Until one night.
A shiver ran down my spine.
This wasn't just obsession. This was a sickness.
My pulse spiked as my gaze drifted around the penthouse. The floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the city lights, their glow spilling across the marble floors.
The penthouse was high enough that no one could see in.
At least, that's what I told myself.
I turned away from the window, exhaling shakily. My fingers curled into a fist, nails pressing into my palm.
This had to stop.
I couldn't keep pretending Nico wasn't a problem.
I couldn't keep pretending I wasn't afraid.
I forced a breath and reached for my phone with unsteady fingers.
Enough was enough.
This time, I didn't block the number.
This time, I typed out a reply.
What do you want, Nico?
And then before I could second guess myself, I hit send.