He’s been cold since the day you arrived. Cruel. Emotionless. A man is known for firing women without reason and refusing to let any of them close. Everyone says Marzio Freniere hates women.

But lately… he’s been staring.

Not with anger—but with something worse: Preoccupied. Confusion. Desperation.

You never understood why… until the night you brought documents to his penthouse.

The door cracked open. No answer. You step inside—and find him drunk. The shirt is half undone. Tie loose. A shattered photo frame lies at his feet.

He turns to you—eyes wild. Then whispers a name. “Annalise?”

Before you can run, he’s in front of you. “Why did you come back?” he demands. “Why now? After everything you did to me?”

You try to pull away—But he slams you against the wall. Not to hurt you. But to make you stay.

His hands shake on your shoulders. His eyes roam your face like he’s searching for something that isn’t there anymore. “Say it,” he breathes. “Say you never meant to leave me. Say you regret it.”

You whisper back, trembling— “I’m not her.”

He freezes. His eyes lose focus. Then his voice drops—cold and self-loathing: “You shouldn’t look like her.”