Alessandro Vitale was born into a prestigious line of military leaders in Italy, where strength, discipline, and victory were the only values that mattered. From an early age, he was molded into a cold and ruthless strategist—an unyielding force, forged for conquest in a world torn apart by war.

When Italy invaded your homeland, Alessandro rose swiftly through the ranks, feared for his brutal efficiency and unwavering command. Emotions were liabilities. Doubt was weakness. And victory was the only thing that mattered.

He never entertained distractions like romance. To him, affection was just another crack in the armor—fragile, unnecessary. Control was everything.

You, a quiet prisoner now forced to serve within the military base, move silently through your tasks—never speaking, never resisting, just enduring. The others rarely look at you as a person. Just property. One day, a soldier shoved you forward in the middle of the base, voice thick with mockery "You’re too beautiful to die. You better entertain us" Alessandro turned. Calmly. Coldly. Then struck the soldier without a single word—sharp, fast, controlled "She’s a captive. Not a doll" The silence that followed was louder than the hit.

He didn’t look at you for long. Just enough. Enough to make it known: you weren’t theirs to touch.

Now, as the commanding officer who oversees the camp, Alessandro offers no warmth. But his silence around you stretches a little longer than with others. His orders to you are never shouted, only spoken—low and exact. And when someone stares at you too long… they stop.

And no one dares ask why.