Isabella's POV
The home seemed to be under nearly intolerable stress, as though the walls were closing in on me. Since I heard Enzo and Sofia talking, hours had gone by and the anxiety that crept into my chest persisted. As I considered it, it became increasingly obvious—I was a liability.
Breathing became difficult as Sofia's poisonous words kept playing back in my thoughts. An obligation. She saw me in this manner. Enzo had promised to guard me, but I couldn't help but question the longevity of that pledge.
Making my way back to my room, the mansion felt cooler than normal. Every squeak of the floors felt magnified, the quiet stretched unnaturally. Enzo was out, probably managing whatever crisis Ren had produced, but he did not help to calm the anxiety crawling under my skin. I could not sit motionless any more. My next action had to be decided upon.
I walked the room considering my alternatives. Though where would I run to? I could try running. I had no money, no allies, and if Sofia was correct, Enzo's rivals would be circling not too far away. They had come for him—and maybe for me as well.
But the more I considered it, the more I understood another: I could not continue living this way. Trapped. Weak. Under the influence of powers I hardly knew.
I had a task to complete. I wanted leverage. Something that would force Enzo to view me as more than just his pawn in this dangerous game, something that would provide me a fighting chance.
Driven by that, I left my room and silently slid down the hall. Though I had no specific strategy, I understood that knowledge was power. My path out would be to learn anything—anything—that might tip the scales of power in my favor.
The study was dark; the soft glow of moonlight came through the curtains. Enzo had entered this room innumerable times, always alone, always with a focused look. He managed his business here, and if solutions could be located here as well, they would be.
I moved slowly, every sound enhanced in the stillness. My fingers brushed the edge of his desk, following the smooth wood, then I started looking among the papers strewn across the surface. Most of it was incomprehensible—numbers, accounts, names I identify. One item drew my attention, though: a name I knew.
Marco Russo.
My heart skipped a beat as I looked at the hand-held paper. Across the top of what appeared to be a transaction record, bold letters printed my father's name. Still, it was a deal rather than just any transaction. Agreements with Enzo.
My mind running, I sunk into the leather chair behind the desk. Though I had always known my father was in charge of selling me to Enzo, seeing the evidence—the cold, calculating trade in black and white—made it real in a way I had not anticipated.
This went beyond a family dispute. This was more than a Mafia deal. For my life, it was this. My emancipation.
I gazed at the paper, my eyesight distorted with unshed tears. In what ways may my own father treat me? How could he turn me into just another negotiating chip?
I heard footsteps getting closer before I could really feel the weight of the betrayal. As I hurriedly pushed the papers back in place and rose up, away from the desk just as the door creaked open, panic shot through me.
Enzo was it?
His keen eyes fixed on me right away, and for a time neither of us moved. Our anxiety was electric, like a hurricane ready to strike flickering in the air.
"What are you doing here??" His voice was low, menacing, yet there was something more there—something that caused my heart to hammer even more.
I swallowed, attempting to retain a calm voice. "I required responses."
He moved deeper into the room locking the door behind him. "Answering questions about what?"
I responded, pointing to the desk, "To this." "To explain why you are keeping me here. Why would you be defending me? You are playing which game?
Enzo's eyes narrowed, and for a split second I considered he may blow. Instead, he stepped forward, his face black and incomprehensible. "This is not a game, Isabella. This represents survival.
My heart pounding, I stayed still. Tell me the truth then, instead. Why did my dad sell you to me? Regarding all of this, what is his responsibility?
Enzo's jaw tightened, and for a minute I saw a flutter of something in his eyes—something like guilt. But it was gone just as rapidly, replaced by the cold, merciless guy I knew.
His voice cold, "You were a deal, Bella," he continued. "Your father needed to pay off debt, and I needed leverage against Ren."
Though I resisted letting him know how much they hurt, the words struck me like a blow to the belly. Though I had anticipated this response, hearing it uttered out loud made it real in a way I wasn't ready for.
"And now? With a voice little above a whisper, I asked. "Am I still simply leveraging you?"
Enzo fixed me for a long time, his face inscrutable. "It's not that easy anymore."
Between us, his words lingered heavy and unfinished. Something in his gaze stopped me even though I wanted to ask him what he meant and demand an answer. There was darkness there, a struggle I cannot really relate to.
Enzo's phone hummed in his pocket before I could say anything further. He yanked it, his gaze darting to the screen for only a minute before his face grew rigid.
He remarked, his voice clipped: "I have to go." "Keep here." Stay in this house not leaving.
And he vanished once more, leaving me dark and alone.
Hours went by, and the storm within me just got more ferocious. Though Enzo's mysterious comments kept coming back to me, my father's treachery captivated me. Though I knew my father was not a decent guy, I had always had a little hope that perhaps he cared for me in some twisted sense.
But today that dream was dashed.
Waiting for the next calamity to occur, I could not stay in this house any more. I had to face my father. I wanted to understand why he had behaved this way toward me. More than that—I had to figure out how out of this mess I could escape before it ruined me.
Resolved with a fresh will, I reached for my phone and made the one call I had been skipping for weeks.
Before a recognizable voice responded, the line rang once then again.
Isabella?
It was my father; his voice is always calm and deliberate.
We need to discuss, I replied, my voice icy. "Now."
He answered after a little silence. "Is this pertaining to Enzo?"
I tightened my jaw, fury running through me. "This is about you, Father. Regarding the agreement you came at. Regarding your sales approach—that of a piece of real estate—
On the other side of the line, there was stillness; for a second, I worried he may hang up. He spoke once more, though, his voice low and threatening.
"Meet me on Fifth at the old warehouse. There is where we can discuss.
My heart hammering in my chest, I hung up without further words. Though I had no idea what I expected from this meeting, one thing was clear: I would not be a pawn in anyone's game any more.
The warehouse was chilly and gloomy; its walls loomed like silent sentinels as I walked toward. With his hands buried in the pockets of his custom coat, my father stood at the far end and his face was inscrutable.
As I entered the poorly lighted area, I exclaimed, "You've been keeping secrets."
He turned to face me, his hard and deliberate gaze "You have no idea how this planet operates, Isabella."
"I understand enough," I fired back, my voice cutting. "I know you sold Enzo something to help pay your loan. I know you never gave me any thought.
The lips of my father turned to a nasty grin. "Isabella, it was never personal." Business is what it was. You served as a tool toward an aim.
Though his comments stung, I refused to let him see the suffering they generated. And then? Now that you have what you have desired?
"Suddenly?" He laughed faintly in low tones. "We now see how this works. Though he may believe he can control everything, Enzo is not as untouchable as he believes.
My heart thumping with a mixture of terror and wrath, I fixed him on him. "What are you intending??"
He stepped forward, his eyes ablaze with hate. You'll discover shortly enough. Let's say, though, Ren isn't the only menace Enzo has to consider.
The sound of footfall rang through the warehouse before I could reply; I turned just in time to see Enzo emerge from the shadows, his face frigid and inscrutable.
With a low, menacing voice, he ordered, "Isabella, get back."
I stayed still as my thoughts ran through trying to make sense of all that was going on. father. ENzo. Their game and the understanding that I was no more only a pawn changed me.
Now, I was far more dangerous.
I also wouldn't allow either of them to ruin me.