They said a king had no need for waiting.
But Victoriano Michelle had waited every day for you.
Not like a lover.
Not like a man.
But like a sinner waiting for heaven to open again.
He never said your name aloud.
Never touched another.
Never let a woman lay a finger on him without punishment.
Not because he was pure.
But because he was already owned.
By the memory of a girl who once kissed him with rain-soaked lips,
bit him to bleed,
and disappeared before he could understand what love actually tasted like.
He searched.
Years of it.
Quietly. Ruthlessly. Through files. Through blood trails. Through whispers in underground markets.
But nothing.
Not even your shadow.
And still, he remained untouched.
Five long years.
Until that night.
🌑 The Lie begins
He hadn’t slept in three days.
A shipment was ambushed.
His men were bleeding out in Sicily.
His hands were covered in war again.
Lorenzo tried to stop him..
Alexio offered sedatives.
But Victoriano—never the one to surrender to weakness—kept going.
Until his body gave in.
Until, in the middle of the grand hall, the marble cracked beneath his knees—
and the Don collapsed.
Darkness.
Nothing but silence.
No dreams.
No pain.
No you.
When he awoke, the world had already changed.
Donna was at his bedside.
Eyes red.
Hair disheveled.
Lips bitten raw.
He sat up immediately, confused, the heaviness in his bones unnatural.
He had been drugged.
“What happened?” his voice was razor-edged.
Donna looked down.
Perfect. Timid. Guilty.
“We… crossed a line,” she whispered.
“You don’t remember. But it happened.”
He stared at her like she was an insect.
Unmoving.
Unblinking.
“You’re lying.”
She flinched.
Tears welled up.
A show, but a convincing one.
“I didn’t mean to. You were vulnerable. I—”
She reached for his hand.
He didn’t let her.
Victoriano stood, slowly, like a god coming back from the dead.
“Get out.”
There was no room left for any argument
But the next day Donna came to his office..
forcefully entering there..
“I think I’m pregnant.”
The words landed like shrapnel.
He turned.
Stared.
No rage. No fear.
Just... cold.
🧬 The Papers
Two days later.
Medical results.
Positive.
Pregnant.
Signed. Stamped. Confirmed.
His name listed as the father.
He didn’t fight it.
He didn’t want to fight it.
Because in the corner of his mind, that awful voice returned:
> "If you hadn’t made her run... Isabella might still been alive.”
So he accepted the lie.
He let Donna exist but never near him.
Let her be the woman the world thought owned his heart.
But in truth—
he never touched her.
Not once.
Not a kiss.
Not a look.
Not a moment of softness.
Because no matter what the world believed—
Victoriano Michelle’s body belonged to one woman.
His heart, to one ghost.
His soul, to a girl who bit his lip and ran.
And he knew it better than anyone that it will never betray her even if she is nowhere to be found.
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