The Girl Who Dared to Love the King~

The halls of the Victoriano estate were too quiet for a home so drenched in power.

Stone-cold marble stretched endlessly, echoing every footstep like the ghosts of old kings whispered back with each step. Chandeliers glittered like frozen tears above, casting fractured light on walls lined with portraits — men of war, men of power, men who died gripping their legacy tighter than their own sons.

And at the center of it all stood Don Victoriano Michelle, the youngest and most feared king of the underground empire.

He was just twenty.

But the world already bowed.

He didn’t blink when bullets grazed his cheek.

Didn’t flinch when men begged on their knees.

Didn’t smile. Didn’t soften. Didn’t love.

They called him Il Re di Ferro — the Iron King.

Because no one had ever touched his heart.

Not even his mother.

Especially not a woman.

Not until you.

Isabella Romanov...you were fifteen then.

A tempest in white lace, barefoot on the garden stones, always laughing too loud, running too fast, tripping on your own feet — and yet, he always noticed when you fell.

You were the daughter of his father’s best friend.

Brought to the estate for protection.

Left behind like a forgotten rose in a field of knives.

And still—every day, without fail—you chased him.

Through the libraries.

Through the garden.

Through the places even shadows refused to linger.

“Victoriano,” you’d call, panting, cheeks flushed, voice like honey over broken glass.

“Walk slower. I can’t keep up.”

He wouldn’t look back.

Not at first.

But his steps always slowed.

Just enough for you to believe you’d caught up.

You never really did.

One evening, the sky turned grey with thunder.

The estate stood like a silent cathedral beneath the clouds.

And you, in your fragile little dress, soaked in rain and grief, barged into his office —

bleeding.

A fall. A cut.

A wound that wouldn’t stop crying.

His guards tried to stop you.

But he raised one hand, and the entire room froze.

You stood before him, soaked, shivering, lips trembling with something not quite fear.

Something like heartbreak.

“I’m tired,” you whispered.

“Of chasing you. Of pretending you don’t feel it too.”

He didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

The storm outside cracked against the windows.

“I love you,” you said.

Soft.

Ragged.

Too young to carry that kind of sorrow in your voice.

He turned away.

Not because he didn’t feel it.

But because he did.

“Go,” he said, cold as steel.

“Before I say something crueler than the silence you’re already drowning in.”

But you didn’t go.

You stepped forward, stood on trembling toes,

and kissed him.

Soft. Wet. Salted with tears.

Your lips brushed his like a secret the world wasn’t ready to hear.

And he froze—

the first and last time anyone ever touched him without dying.

You bit him gently.

Not to hurt.

To mark.

And then you ran.

Blood on your lip.

Blood on his mouth.

You disappeared into the night like a dream tearing itself apart.

He stood there—silent, unmoving,

tasting your name like ash on his tongue.

He thought you’d return the next day.

Then the next week.

Then the next month.

You never did.

Five years passed.

And not even he knew,

that the girl who once dared kiss a king…

Was dying in silence.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***