Isabella awoke with a shocking start, her heart pounding in her chest. The sound that had pulled her from sleep echoed in her mind, a sharp, unmistakable crack that could only be a gunshot. For a moment, she lay there in the unfamiliar bed, the heavy curtains drawn against the morning light, trying to convince herself it had been a nightmare. But the muffled voices and hurried footsteps she could now hear coming from downstairs told her otherwise.
Beside her, Rosa stirred, groggily rubbing her eyes. "What was that?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep.
"I think.. I think it was a gunshot," Isabella replied, her voice trembling. She threw back the covers, already moving towards the door. "We need to go downstairs. Something's happened."
The two women hurried down the staircase, the marble floors cold against their bare feet. As they descended, the voices grew louder, filled with tension and urgency. Isabella's mind raced with possibilities, none of them good. She could feel her pulse quickening, dread settling in the pit of her stomach.
When they reached the ground floor, the scene that met them was one of chaos. The foyer, which had been somber and still the night before, was now alive with activity. Family members and house staff were gathered in tight clusters, their faces etched with fear and confusion. In the center of the room, her Uncle Antonio stood, a gun still clutched in his hand, his expression one of cold fury.
A man lay crumpled on the floor at his feet, a dark pool of blood slowly spreading across the marble tiles. It was one of the drivers, a man Isabella vaguely remembered from her childhood visits, quiet, unassuming, always polite. Now, he was just a lifeless body, his eyes wide open in shock.
"What happened?" Isabella's voice was barely more than a whisper, but it cut through the murmurs in the room. All eyes turned to her, and for a moment, there was only silence.
Uncle Antonio looked up, his gaze locking onto Isabella's. His face was set in a grim mask, but there was something wild in his eyes, a glint of something she didn't recognize, something dangerous. "This man," he said, gesturing to the body at his feet, "betrayed your father. He's been feeding information to the police. He got what he deserved."
Isabella felt the blood drain from her face. "Feeding information? To the police? But how do you know?"
Antonio's expression hardened. "It doesn't matter how I know. What matters is that he was a rat, and in our world, rats don't get to live."
Rosa, who had been standing frozen beside Isabella, finally found her voice. "You.. you killed him?" she stammered, her eyes wide with horror. "Just like that?"
"Just like that," Antonio said, his voice cold. "It's how things are done here, girl. We don't let traitors walk free."
Isabella felt a wave of nausea wash over her. This wasn't the world she knew, the life she had lived. But here, in this house, in the world her father had been a part of, things were different. The rules were different. And she was only just beginning to understand how deep the darkness ran.
Before she could process what had happened, her Aunt Luisa appeared at her side, her expression drawn but composed. "Come, Isabella," she said softly, taking her niece's arm. "There's nothing more to be done here. The men will take care of the body. We need to focus on your father's arrangements."
Isabella allowed herself to be led away, her mind spinning. She glanced back at Rosa, who was still staring at the scene in stunned disbelief. "Rosa, come on," she urged, and Rosa reluctantly tore her gaze away from the grisly sight, following them out of the foyer.
They were led into a smaller, more private sitting room, where the atmosphere was no less tense, but quieter. The room was filled with the smell of strong coffee and the faint scent of cigarette smoke. Isabella sank into one of the chairs, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on her.
Luisa sat across from her, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "I'm sorry you had to see that," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But you have to understand, Isabella, this is how things are done in our world. Your father.. he kept you away from it, and for good reason. But now.. "
"But now what?" Isabella interrupted, her voice sharper than she intended. "What am I supposed to do with this? How am I supposed to just accept that this is.. normal?"
"It's not about accepting it," Luisa said gently. "It's about understanding it. Your father's death.. it's left a void. And with that void comes danger, from all sides. Antonio's just trying to protect what's left of the family. He did what he thought was necessary."
Isabella shook her head, trying to make sense of it all. "I don't even know who my father was anymore. He was a businessman, yes, but this.. this mafia world.. I never knew. How could he have hidden this from me, from mama?"
Luisa sighed, reaching out to take Isabella's hand. "Your father loved you, Isabella. He loved you so much that he wanted to keep you as far away from this life as possible. But now that he's gone, you're going to see things you never imagined. And you need to be strong. For your mother, for Giorgio, for yourself."
Rosa, who had been sitting quietly beside Isabella, finally spoke up, her voice shaky but determined. "Isabella, you don't have to do this alone. I'm here for you, no matter what. We'll get through this together."
Isabella squeezed her friend's hand, grateful for her presence. But the reality was setting in, cold and unyielding. She was stepping into a world she didn't understand, one filled with violence, betrayal, and secrets that could tear her apart. And now, she had to decide how far she was willing to go to uncover the truth about her father, and how much of herself she was willing to lose in the process.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, and Giorgio appeared, his face grim. "They've started the preparations for Papa's burial," he said quietly. "There's a lot to do, and the family is gathering to go over the arrangements. Are you ready?"
Isabella nodded, though she didn't feel ready for any of it. But there was no time to dwell on her fears. Her father's funeral was just the beginning of what was sure to be a long, dark journey.
As she rose to her feet, she took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead. Whatever happened, she would face it head-on. For her father, for her family, and for the truth she desperately needed to uncover. And as she stepped out of the room and back into the heart of the Moretti mansion, she knew that her life would never be the same again.