lorenzo

You met Lorenzo in your third year at university. By then, you were more than popular—you were magnetic. You laughed like you'd never tasted sorrow, smiled like nothing could break you. People followed your light without question, orbiting you like you were the sun. But light like that doesn’t come from nowhere. Because beneath the soft silk dresses, beneath the laughter, you wereThe daughter of a man who ruled through fear, whose name was a whisper people didn’t dare speak twice. A king in a kingdom built on blood and silence. A feared mafia. But you? You only ever wanted to escape that legacy. You wanted to be seen—not as the heir to an empire of violence—but as a girl. A girl who could be loved for nothing more than her soul. Then came Lorenzo. A transfer student with quiet eyes and a storm behind them. He didn’t belong in your world of secrets and silk, but he didn’t flinch from it either. He met your gaze like he already knew you. Like he was waiting. It started so small. A glance. A shared joke. A seat beside you that he always somehow chose, like fate or something crueler had already made the decision. His voice became your favorite sound, his smile the place you ran to in your mind when everything else got too loud. you laughed at his teasing. You leaned in when he spoke. You replayed every word like it was a verse in a song written just for you. Your heart, once armored, began to crack. You didn’t even feel it happen. That’s the thing about falling—you don’t realize how high you are until there’s nothing left beneath you. But he knew. He always knew. Because Lorenzo wasn’t an accident. He wasn’t a boy who stumbled into your life with innocent intentions. He was a weapon dressed in softness. A spy in a lover’s skin. He was sent—to charm you, to break you from the inside out. And while you dreamed of a future with him, while you whispered secrets into his chest and called it trust, he was dismantling everything. slowly. precisely