No flowers for the dead - Chapter 20: Chapter 20
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The email arrived without fanfare.
No subject line.
No sender Elias could verify.
Just one line of text:
“I never left.”
Attached was a photograph—grainy, taken from a rooftop across the city. It showed Elias and Alina walking through a narrow alley near the old cathedral, hand in hand. Smiling. Unprotected.
Too intimate for the press. Too recent to ignore.
Alina found him staring at the screen, jaw tight.
She didn’t need to ask. She saw the ghost in his eyes.
“Matteo.”
Elias nodded once.
She came to his side, her fingers brushing his arm. “You think he’s back?”
“I think he never really left.”
⸻
The next 24 hours were a blur of cold fury and cautious restraint.
Elias pulled security from vacation.
Swept the house, the office, every route they frequented.
Alina’s schedule was restructured without explanation.
But she didn’t flinch.
She’d lived with shadows before. This was just one more.
Still, she could feel the shift in him—the way he moved like someone already grieving something he hadn’t yet lost.
“Talk to me,” she said quietly that night, as they lay in the dark, her hand resting on his chest.
“I don’t want this to touch you.”
“It already has,” she replied. “The moment I chose you, I knew I wasn’t just inheriting your empire. I was inheriting your war.”
His hand closed over hers. “You didn’t sign up for this.”
“I did,” she said. “When I kissed you back the first time. When I stood beside you at the boardroom. When I wore your name and made it mine.”
“You made it more than mine,” he whispered.
And for a few hours, they let love speak louder than fear.
⸻
But Matteo was always a strategist. A chess player. He wouldn’t strike directly.
He’d erode.
⸻
The first blow came the next morning.
One of their housing projects—Alina’s—was set on fire. Not enough to destroy, but enough to signal a message. I can still reach what you love.
The second came in the form of a leak—financial documents traced to Vale Holdings, doctored to imply money laundering, criminal partnerships.
The third?
A whisper to the press that Elias had been secretly funding off-book security contracts across Europe. Entirely false—but enough to make regulators twitch.
It was slow. Precise. Familiar.
Matteo always preferred poison to daggers.
⸻
By the end of the week, Alina stood in the center of the penthouse, hair still wet from the shower, reading another silent threat sent directly to her private line.
No words.
Just a photo of Elias, alone, exiting a car.
The timestamp was from hours ago.
“It’s not just about the empire anymore,” she said aloud.
Elias looked up from across the room.
“No,” he agreed. “It’s about me.”
⸻
But he didn’t mean in a selfish way.
He meant Matteo wasn’t trying to reclaim power anymore.
He was trying to reclaim control.
And that meant Elias had to choose, once again, between protecting the legacy… or protecting the woman who was his legacy.
This time, though?
There was no hesitation.
⸻
“I’m ending it,” he said that night, voice low, final.
“You can’t reason with ghosts,” Alina said gently.
“I’m not going to reason.”
No subject line.
No sender Elias could verify.
Just one line of text:
“I never left.”
Attached was a photograph—grainy, taken from a rooftop across the city. It showed Elias and Alina walking through a narrow alley near the old cathedral, hand in hand. Smiling. Unprotected.
Too intimate for the press. Too recent to ignore.
Alina found him staring at the screen, jaw tight.
She didn’t need to ask. She saw the ghost in his eyes.
“Matteo.”
Elias nodded once.
She came to his side, her fingers brushing his arm. “You think he’s back?”
“I think he never really left.”
⸻
The next 24 hours were a blur of cold fury and cautious restraint.
Elias pulled security from vacation.
Swept the house, the office, every route they frequented.
Alina’s schedule was restructured without explanation.
But she didn’t flinch.
She’d lived with shadows before. This was just one more.
Still, she could feel the shift in him—the way he moved like someone already grieving something he hadn’t yet lost.
“Talk to me,” she said quietly that night, as they lay in the dark, her hand resting on his chest.
“I don’t want this to touch you.”
“It already has,” she replied. “The moment I chose you, I knew I wasn’t just inheriting your empire. I was inheriting your war.”
His hand closed over hers. “You didn’t sign up for this.”
“I did,” she said. “When I kissed you back the first time. When I stood beside you at the boardroom. When I wore your name and made it mine.”
“You made it more than mine,” he whispered.
And for a few hours, they let love speak louder than fear.
⸻
But Matteo was always a strategist. A chess player. He wouldn’t strike directly.
He’d erode.
⸻
The first blow came the next morning.
One of their housing projects—Alina’s—was set on fire. Not enough to destroy, but enough to signal a message. I can still reach what you love.
The second came in the form of a leak—financial documents traced to Vale Holdings, doctored to imply money laundering, criminal partnerships.
The third?
A whisper to the press that Elias had been secretly funding off-book security contracts across Europe. Entirely false—but enough to make regulators twitch.
It was slow. Precise. Familiar.
Matteo always preferred poison to daggers.
⸻
By the end of the week, Alina stood in the center of the penthouse, hair still wet from the shower, reading another silent threat sent directly to her private line.
No words.
Just a photo of Elias, alone, exiting a car.
The timestamp was from hours ago.
“It’s not just about the empire anymore,” she said aloud.
Elias looked up from across the room.
“No,” he agreed. “It’s about me.”
⸻
But he didn’t mean in a selfish way.
He meant Matteo wasn’t trying to reclaim power anymore.
He was trying to reclaim control.
And that meant Elias had to choose, once again, between protecting the legacy… or protecting the woman who was his legacy.
This time, though?
There was no hesitation.
⸻
“I’m ending it,” he said that night, voice low, final.
“You can’t reason with ghosts,” Alina said gently.
“I’m not going to reason.”
End of No flowers for the dead Chapter 20. Continue reading Chapter 21 or return to No flowers for the dead book page.