ISABELLA
I stormed into Lorenzo's office building, determined to confront him about his recent actions.
But as I approached the reception desk, I was met with a stern expression.
"I am sorry, ma'am, but Mr. Matteo is not in the office, he has a meeting with the board," the receptionist said, her voice firm.
I raised an eyebrow, my anger simmering just below the surface. "I am his wife," I said, my voice cold. "I need to see him."
But the receptionist just shook her head. "I am sorry, ma'am. You will have to leave."
I felt a surge of anger at her dismissive tone, and I pulled out my phone to call Lorenzo's, but he didn't pick up despite several calls.
Just then, two burly guards appeared at my side, their faces expressionless. "Ma'am, please come with us," one of them said, his voice firm.
"What the heck! I only want to see my husband. How come you are acting this way already?" I asked in shock.
