Ana woke up to silence.
For a moment, she didn't know where she was. The satin sheets beneath her skin, the soft golden morning light streaming through the vast windows, the subtle scent of cedar and smoke—it was all unfamiliar and intimate at the same time.
Then it hit her. Hayden.
Her chest tightened as memories of the night before crashed down on her like waves. His words. His touch. That quiet look in his eyes, the one that almost made her believe he could feel something real.
She pushed the blanket away and sat up. Her head throbbed with confusion. The emotional war inside her hadn't quieted—it had only grown louder.
He had manipulated her life, taken control of it without remorse. And yet there was something terrifyingly magnetic about him. Something she hated. Something she *craved*.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway just before Hayden appeared in the doorway, already dressed in a crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His gaze locked on hers the moment he stepped inside. There was no surprise in his expression, only cool calculation—and something else. Something unreadable.
"You're awake," he said, voice smooth, unshaken.
Ana's fingers clenched the edge of the sheet. "Do I get breakfast, or is that considered a privilege in your cage?"
A slow smile curved his lips. "You're sharp this morning. That's good. You'll need it."
She narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He walked to the window, hands behind his back, looking out over the city as if it belonged to him—and in many ways, it did. "Your father is back in Italy. He doesn't know you're here yet. But he will."
Ana's heart dropped. "What are you planning?"
Hayden turned, and this time the mask cracked—just slightly. "You already know the answer to that."
She stood up, letting the sheet fall away, uncaring of how vulnerable she looked. Vulnerability had no meaning anymore. "If you hurt him, you hurt me too."
He stepped closer, his voice low and calm. "And yet, it's him who destroyed you first. You just haven't let yourself see it yet."
"You don't get to justify what you're doing by blaming my father," she said, stepping closer to him. "Whatever happened between our families—*I* had no part in it."
He paused, his eyes locking with hers. "And yet you're the one who's going to pay for it."
His words were cruel, but they trembled at the edges, like a man reciting a lie he had to believe.
Ana exhaled sharply. "You want me to hate you, don't you?"
Hayden didn't move. "No," he said quietly. "I want you to understand me."
That stunned her into silence. The raw honesty of it. The vulnerability beneath the steel.
He walked past her toward the door. "Get dressed. We're going out."
She blinked. "Out? Like… a date?"
His smirk was sharp. "Something like that."
---
Twenty minutes later, Ana sat in the back of Hayden's sleek black car as it wound through the streets of Rome. The city was bathed in sunlight, life bustling around them, utterly unaware of the war waging in her heart.
She glanced at him. He was silent, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on his thigh. Tension radiated from him in waves, but not the kind that scared her anymore. It was familiar. Contained.
"What are we doing?" she asked.
"I told you. You need to see."
"See what?"
"The truth."
He drove into a quiet, worn part of the city. The buildings were older, graffiti curling around brick walls like veins. Eventually, he parked beside a gated orphanage with peeling paint and a faded sign. Ana stared at it in confusion.
"Why are we here?" she asked.
Hayden didn't answer. He got out and walked toward the gate, and after a moment's hesitation, she followed.
Inside, children's laughter echoed through the courtyard. A nun waved warmly at Hayden, and he nodded in return. He didn't smile—but he didn't have to. The way the children lit up when they saw him told her everything.
One of the boys ran up to him, throwing his arms around Hayden's waist. "Ciao, signore!"
Hayden knelt, ruffling the boy's hair. "Stai bene, Marco?"
The boy nodded quickly. "Grazie! You brought more books?"
Hayden handed over a small satchel filled with notebooks and colored pencils. "As promised."
Ana watched in disbelief as Hayden stood and gave instructions to one of the volunteers, his voice softer than she'd ever heard it. He turned back to her after a few minutes.
"This is where my mother used to volunteer," he said. "She used to bring me here when I was a kid."
Ana's throat tightened.
"She believed the world could be changed by giving people a second chance," he said quietly. "I didn't believe her. Not until I lost her."
And suddenly she saw him—*really* saw him. Not just the ruthless billionaire. Not just the cold heir of a mafia legacy. But the boy who lost his mother in a fire, whose heart had turned to stone just to survive.
She took a small step closer. "Why are you showing me this?"
"Because you think I don't feel," he said. "But I do. And this… this is the part of me no one sees."
Ana didn't respond. Couldn't.
Something inside her cracked, just like it had for him.