For days, Alex moved like a ghost in her own skin.
She woke up early, left for university before anyone else stirred, and returned only after the sun dipped behind the skyline. She didn’t speak unless she had to, didn’t sit for dinner, and definitely didn’t bring up the offer hanging over her like a storm cloud. If she saw Luca’s silhouette in the hallway, she turned the other way. If Nova peeked through her cracked door, she pretended to sleep.
The silence was easier than confrontation.
But not easier than the guilt.
Because no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, the thought kept looping in her head—like a song she didn’t even like but couldn’t stop humming.
It wasn’t just about the marriage.
It was about what came with it.
The company. Her dream. Everything she had ever worked for, fought for, ached for. A life of purpose and power with her name on the glass doors. Alexandra Steel, Director. CEO. Heir.
It was all within reach—if she signed her life away on a dotted line.
Even if it was just on paper, marriage wasn’t nothing. Especially not when love wasn’t part of the equation.
And Michael…
She hadn’t spoken to him since the alley. Hadn’t replied to his texts. Hadn’t looked at him across campus, even when she felt his eyes following her between buildings. Every time Brenda asked what was wrong, Alex brushed her off with a tight smile and a flat “I’m fine.”
No one bought it.
But no one pushed either.
Maybe they were waiting for her to crack.
She nearly did—more than once. In the library, clutching her pen too tight. In the café, staring blankly at her laptop. In the bathroom mirror, where her reflection looked like a stranger trying too hard to stay composed.
It was a Thursday when everything changed.
Alex came home late again, hair messy from wind, blazer crooked, shoes soaked from a puddle she didn’t see. She sighed as the elevator doors slid open, ready to beeline for her room and disappear.
But Luca stood there, waiting in the hallway.
He was dressed casually—sweater sleeves pushed up, jacket in hand. Not a trace of boardroom formality.
Alex stopped in her tracks. Her heart ticked faster. “If this is another speech, I—”
“It’s not,” Luca said, cutting her off gently. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
She blinked. “What kind of surprise?”
“You’ll see.”
He turned and started walking toward the front door.
Alex hesitated.
Then followed.
The car ride was quiet. She sat in the back beside her father, staring out the window as the city blurred past. Luca didn’t try to fill the silence with small talk. He just watched the skyline with that same unreadable calm he always carried.
Even the driver seemed to sense the tension—his hands stiff on the wheel, eyes locked on the road.
When the car slowed in front of the warm glow of a familiar stone building, Alex straightened, surprised.
The smell hit her first—rosemary, truffle, the faint aroma of firewood.
She looked up.
It was her favorite restaurant.
The one she’d loved since she was thirteen. Where she ordered the same pasta every time. Where she once spilled red wine on her dress and Luca covered it with his napkin so Nova wouldn’t see.
Luca opened the door and stepped out. “Come on.”
Despite the icy knot still lodged in her chest, Alex followed.
Dinner was… surprisingly normal.
They sat in the far corner, beside the fireplace, their usual spot. The same waiter greeted them, already memorizing their orders like always. Luca didn’t mention business. Didn’t bring up the company. He just sipped his wine and talked about the food, the weather, a funny article he read about someone trying to breed hypoallergenic horses.
Alex barely touched her plate.
Finally, she set her fork down.
“Dad,” she said, her voice tight, “what’s going on?”
Luca paused.
Then sighed.
“Alex,” he said, “you’re my daughter.”
Her stomach clenched. Here it comes.
“As much as your mother and I approve of this arranged marriage idea, I need you to know something clearly: I’m not going to force you into anything. That’s not who I am. And it’s not who we raised you to be.”
Alex swallowed hard.
Luca leaned forward. “I want us to be okay. That’s the priority. Not the company. Not some deal. Not an alliance. Us. Always.”
Her throat tightened as he spoke.
He wasn’t angry.
He wasn’t pressuring her.
He was... letting her choose.
And somehow, that made it worse.
Alex turned her face away for a moment. Blinked up at the lights overhead. Her heart swelled with guilt, her chest too full to breathe properly.
They did care. Even when it hurt.
Her mind flashed to—
—middle school, when she punched a boy for calling her a spoiled brat. Nova had grounded her, but Luca had found her in the garage, handed her a juice box, and whispered, “Next time, use your elbow. Less damage to your knuckles.”
—her first visit to Steel HQ, sitting wide-eyed in Luca’s office chair. Nova had winked and said, “Feels right, doesn’t it?” before sneaking her a real espresso.
—the summer camp disaster. She had begged to go, only to hate every second. Called home in tears. They came the next morning—suits still on, meetings rescheduled, no questions asked. Just a quiet “We missed you too, baby.”
Her hands curled into fists beneath the table.
They always showed up.
Even when she pushed them away.
Even when she didn’t deserve it.
“I don’t want to disappoint you,” she whispered finally.
“You couldn’t,” Luca said simply.
Alex looked at him. His face was worn at the edges, older than it had seemed a year ago. But his eyes—those same steel-gray eyes—were still steady.
She just nodded slowly, and murmured, “Okay.”