The sky was still streaked with lavender when Nova opened the windows. A gentle autumn breeze slipped into the penthouse, stirring the sheer curtains just enough to make the silence feel alive. The apartment smelled of jasmine and something warmer—nostalgia, maybe.
Nova moved barefoot across the cool floors in her robe, tying it loosely at the waist. The kitchen light bathed the space in gold as she set the final touches. Tulips in a narrow vase. A linen napkin folded beneath Luca’s favorite ceramic mug—the one with the chipped rim he stubbornly refused to replace. No staff today. She’d sent them away. This morning had to feel personal.
The coffee brewed quietly behind her, cardamom and cinnamon steeping into the air as she stirred the oats gently on the stove. She sliced the apples thin—just the way he liked them. Sweet, but not too sweet. Warm, but not soft.
By the time Luca padded in, his shirt only half-buttoned and his hair tousled from sleep, the table was set. Candles flickered softly on the marble island, sandalwood scent curling through the air—his favorite, the same note her perfume carried.
He paused in the doorway, brows slightly raised.
“You didn’t hire a private chef behind my back, did you?” he muttered, rubbing the sleep from his face.
Nova didn’t even look up. “You wound me.”
He approached the table slowly, almost suspiciously, eyeing the whole setup like he expected a surprise hidden somewhere beneath the plate. Still, he dropped into the chair and accepted the mug she handed him. One sip. He paused.
“Damn,” he said.
“Told you,” Nova replied with a small smile. “I remember things.”
He lifted a brow but didn’t argue.
She joined him with her tea, quietly satisfied by how the atmosphere softened. No tension. No harshness. She didn’t mention work. She didn’t mention the argument with Alex. Instead, she filled the air with harmless chatter—light stories, small jokes, and a calmness she hoped would settle him.
It worked. For a while.
Then Luca set his cup down with a soft clink, leaning back in his chair.
“Nova, love,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement, “we’ve been married long enough for me to see through you.”
She looked up, carefully blank.
“I know when you want something.”
Nova exhaled, finally setting her cup down. “You’re not wrong.”
He said nothing, waiting.
“It’s about Alex,” she said.
His jaw twitched—not much, but enough.
“She’s burning herself out,” Nova continued. “Lonely. Overworked. She pretends she isn’t, but you and I both know the signs. She’s pouring all her energy into school and company documents she isn’t even supposed to have.”
“She’s fine,” Luca said, voice low.
“No, she’s not,” Nova said gently. “She’s twenty. And already drowning herself in expectations we didn’t even say out loud.”
“She’s strong,” he replied.
“She’s alone,” Nova said firmly. “Even with us here, she’s alone. Trying to fight the world without any of the tools to survive it.”
“She’ll learn.”
“She shouldn’t have to learn everything the hard way.”
Luca’s mouth set in a tight line, but Nova pressed on, voice calm.
“We both know we can’t keep her away from the company forever. It’s inevitable. She’ll join eventually, whether we like it or not.”
“And that doesn’t mean we drop her into it blind,” he said. “This world chews people up, Nova.”
She moved closer, setting her hand gently over his. “Then we give her protection. Support. A foundation.”
He looked at her, sharp-eyed.
Nova took a breath. “I want to arrange a marriage for Alex.”
The air in the room shifted instantly.
Luca froze.
She knew that look. Like a bomb had gone off just beneath his feet.
“I’m not joking,” she added quickly. “And I’m not saying we force her. Or trap her. I’m saying we guide her. We shield her. The same way our parents did for us.”
“You mean the same way we hated,” Luca snapped. “You cried for a week. And we bearly choked each other to death..”
“And yet here we are,” Nova said softly. “Still together. Still in love. More than I ever thought possible.”
He stood abruptly and walked to the window, tension lining every step.
“You can’t compare,” he said. “We were different.”
“Were we?” Nova asked, following him. “Weren’t we both raised in glass towers with steel expectations? Weren’t we both desperate for something real underneath the empire?”
He didn’t respond.
“I’m not saying we hand her off like a pawn,” Nova said. “I’m saying we find someone worthy. Someone who could love her, truly. Someone who will keep her safe—not because we ordered it, but because he wants to.”
Luca’s shoulders rose and fell in a silent breath.
Nova took a step closer. “You’re scared. I get that. But I’m scared too.”
She hesitated, then added, quieter now, “And we don’t have forever to keep her safe.”
Luca turned then. Slowly. His expression hardened, but his eyes—those dark, intense eyes—were laced with something far softer.
“You’re not dying.”
“I have dementia,” she said plainly. “Early-onset. The symptoms are increasing. You’ve seen it.”
He closed his eyes.
“I don’t want to leave her alone,” Nova whispered. “I need to know—before things get worse—that she has someone to hold her up when I no longer can.”
Silence stretched long between them.
Nova didn’t break it. She waited.
Finally, Luca spoke. “You’re asking me to pick a man for our daughter.”
“I’m asking you to protect her, Luca,” she said. “You’re the one who taught me that love isn’t just softness. It’s war. And you protect what you love.”
He didn’t reply.
“I know it’s unconventional. But think about it. If she marries the right person, she’ll be safe. Supported. She can still build her empire—but with someone beside her. Not behind. Not dragging her down. Someone strong enough to let her shine.”
Luca was silent for a long time.
Then he said, “I’ll think about it.”
That was more than she expected.
She stepped forward, kissed his cheek, and didn’t ask for more.
Later, after he left for work, Nova sat back down at the table and rubbed her temples. The headache hadn’t gone away. In fact, it had started pulsing behind her eyes.
But the conversation was a step.
One that might protect everything she loved, long after she no longer could.