His to Break

Ana didn't sleep.

Not after what she saw in that file.

She sat on the velvet chair in the corner of the penthouse bedroom, the city still glowing outside the glass walls. Her hands trembled as she held the envelope, the weight of her bloodline pressing down on her like a collar she hadn't known she wore.

Her father wasn't Alexander Nicholas.

Not biologically.

The medical report confirmed it—DNA results from an anonymous source cross-matched with her birth records. Hidden paternity. Covered up by money, sealed with silence.

And that name…

She whispered it aloud now.

"Valerio."

The name burned her tongue.

According to the file, Enzo Moretti's former business partner, Matteo Valerio, had an affair with her mother a year before Ana was born. The resemblance—she'd always wondered why she looked nothing like the Nicholas side.

Now she knew.

Hayden stirred in bed, the sheets rustling.

She slipped the folder under the chair cushion and stood, her breathing uneven.

"Ana?" His voice was low, groggy.

She turned. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

He sat up, watching her. Eyes alert now. "You've been out. You're hiding something."

She didn't answer.

He rose, walked toward her in nothing but sweatpants. His hand reached for her chin.

"I know that look," he murmured. "It's the same one I wore for years. The moment the truth rewrites you."

She looked up at him, eyes glossy.

"Then don't ask."

But he did.

"What happened?"

She didn't speak.

Couldn't.

So he tried something else.

He kissed her.

Fierce. Gentle. Hungry.

Not to possess—but to ground her.

When they parted, she rested her forehead against his chest.

"I'm not who I thought I was," she whispered. "Everything I hated. Everything I blamed. It was built on a lie."

"Then we burn the lie," he said. "And we build something true."

Ana looked at him with something between awe and grief.

"I don't know if there's anything real left inside me."

"There is," Hayden said. "I've touched it. I've heard it moan my name."

Her lips twitched, almost smiling.

He slid his hand under her shirt, warm and steady. "Let me remind you."

---

They didn't undress quickly.

They unwrapped each other like secrets—careful, reverent, as if the truth was buried between their skin.

Ana lay back, eyes locked with his as he worshipped her inch by inch. No restraints. No games.

Just flesh and fire.

His mouth moved slowly down her stomach, across her hip, as if reclaiming every inch he'd once tried to own.

She guided him with her hands, moaning softly, arching to meet him.

It was slow.

Devastating.

And when he entered her, their bodies moved like they were remembering something ancient. As if this—this—had always been the truth, not revenge, not lies.

Just them.

Afterward, they stayed tangled in silence.

Breathing.

Rebuilding.

But Ana's mind didn't stop.

Because one thing was clear—

If Matteo Valerio was her biological father… then she was Moretti blood-adjacent.

And that meant someone else in this war might have a claim on her life.

---

The next morning, Ana left the penthouse before dawn.

Hayden didn't try to stop her.

But he did watch her go.

He'd felt the shift last night.

The sex hadn't been desperate. It had been goodbye.

---

Ana returned to the burned-out estate in Milan. This time, she wasn't afraid.

Luca Bianchi was waiting again.

"You read it?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then you know your life was never yours."

"No," she said. "But it is now."

He grinned. "You're not curious? About your real father?"

She glared. "He was a coward who never claimed me. That's all I need to know."

"But others know now. Matteo Valerio's people. And they don't believe you'll stay quiet forever."

Ana folded her arms. "Are you threatening me?"

"No. I'm offering protection. When they come—and they will—you'll need friends."

She walked past him. "I already have one. And I sleep beside him every night."

Luca laughed darkly. "Hayden's not a shield. He's a weapon. And weapons get pointed at everything. Even you."

Ana stopped. Turned.

"I've survived being a target before."

"Not like this."

---

That night, Hayden stood in the security room of the Moretti tower, reviewing footage.

Ana's car.

The estate.

A man meeting her.

Not once.

Twice.

The image paused on Luca Bianchi's face.

Hayden's heart sank.

Then hardened.

He pressed a button.

"Rafa," he said into the comms. "Prepare the car. We're going to Milan. No guards. No warnings. No mercy."