*Isabella*
The room was suffocatingly quiet, the kind of silence that felt like it could crush you. I sat on the edge of the bed, gripping my phone like it was a lifeline. My thoughts were everywhere and nowhere, an endless spiral of doubt and fear.
"I don't know how I'm going to live with him," I whispered into the emptiness. My voice felt so small, so fragile, like the words would shatter if I said them too loudly. "But… it's what it is."
I swallowed hard, trying to calm the storm raging inside me. "And honestly," I added, lying to myself, "he's not that bad."
Not that bad. What a joke.
But that didn't matter right now. What mattered was the phone in my hand, and the people on the other side of it. Aria, Elsa, Elena—they were everything. They were my real family. Not to say I didn't love Mom and Dad, but with Aria and the girls, it was different. They didn't just love me—they understood me. My fears, my struggles, my future.
They knew the truth about my life, the one I hid behind polite smiles and whispered lies. And now I was going to have to hide this, too. Not for me, but for them.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I searched for the courage to call. Before I could dial, my phone buzzed in my hand. I didn't even need to check the screen. Of course it was them.
I answered, my voice soft, trembling.
"Hello?"
"ISA!" Aria's voice exploded through the line, making me flinch and smile all at once. That was just her—loud, bold, and always ready to go to war for me.
"Where are you?" she demanded, her words rapid and breathless. "Tell me where you are, and I'll come get you right now!"
I felt my chest tighten at her words, and tears pricked at my eyes. She made it sound so simple, like she could just swoop in and fix everything. But it wasn't simple. Not even close.
"Aria…" My voice cracked as I fought to hold myself together. "I can't."
"Yes, you can," she snapped, her tone sharp, unrelenting. "Tell me where you are. I'll handle the rest."
I clenched my jaw, trying to push back the rising wave of emotion. God, how I wanted to let her do it. To let her take me away from this nightmare. But that wasn't an option.
"They'll know, Aria," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "They'll know, and they'll hurt you. They'll hurt Elsa, Elena, Mom, Dad… everyone. You know him, Aria. You know what he's capable of."
The silence on the other end of the line was deafening, and for a moment, I thought she might have hung up. But then I heard her breathing—sharp, uneven, full of barely contained anger.
"Isa," she said, her voice low and steady, but there was steel in her tone. "I'm not leaving you there."
I closed my eyes, biting my lip to stop it from trembling. "I'll be okay," I lied, my voice shaking. "I just… I need you to be strong for me, okay?"
"No," she snapped, her voice breaking. "Don't ask me to be strong while you suffer. Don't you dare ask me to do that, Isa."
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I sucked in a breath, trying to keep the tears at bay. This was why I hadn't wanted to call. I hated hearing her like this—angry, helpless, hurting because of me.
"Please, Aria," I whispered, my voice barely holding steady. "Just this once. Trust me."
Another stretch of silence, and I held my breath, waiting for her response.
"Fine," she said finally, her voice thick with emotion. "But if anything happens to you, Isa, I swear, I'll tear down the entire Antonio family with my bare hands."
Despite everything, a laugh slipped out of me, soft and unexpected. It was the first time I'd laughed in days, and of course it was because of her. "I know you will," I said, and for a moment, the heaviness in my chest lifted.
We said our goodbyes after that, though it was the hardest thing I've ever done. I spoke to Elsa and Elena next, and each call chipped away at the fragile strength I'd built up. They were worried, of course, but I did my best to sound steady, to reassure them that I was okay.
But I wasn't.
By the time I hung up for the last time, the silence in the room felt unbearable. I set the phone down and stared at the wall, my heart pounding. I hated this. Hated the lies, the fear, the loneliness.
But I couldn't back down now.
I took a deep breath, straightening my spine and wiping my eyes. It was time to face whatever came next. I'd survive, somehow. I had to.
For them.
...
After hanging up the phone, I exhaled sharply, pushing away the lingering weight of the conversations. I couldn't sit still anymore—my nerves were shot, and the silence was unbearable. I made my way to the kitchen, deciding to cook something. The act of cooking had always been my escape, a way to drown out the chaos in my head with the rhythm of chopping and the sizzle of pans.
I had just started prepping the ingredients when I heard the sound of heels clicking on the floor behind me. I turned, and there she was—the weirdest freaking lady I'd ever seen. Actually, no, not a lady—a girl.
She strutted into the kitchen like she owned the place, dressed in what I could only describe as… a choice. A skin-tight red dress that barely covered anything, complete with a slit so high I wondered why she even bothered with fabric. No sleeves, no sense—just red, tight, and overly bold.
Now, don't get me wrong—I don't care how anyone dresses. Live your life, wear what makes you happy. But there was something about the way she carried herself, about her whole presence, that immediately set me on edge.
She looked me up and down like I was dirt on her designer heels and smirked. "So, you're the toy, huh?"
My knife stilled against the cutting board. Oh, hell no. Trust me, I can be the sweetest, most polite girl in the world when I want to be. But I do not take bullshit, especially from someone like her.
Without missing a beat, I turned to her and replied, "So, you're the whore, huh?"
Her jaw dropped, and for a moment, I thought her face might freeze that way. She looked genuinely shocked, like the concept of someone standing up to her had never crossed her mind. Or maybe it was because I looked like the kind of girl who'd meekly smile and nod instead of firing back.
"You can't talk to me like that!" she snapped, her voice rising to a shrill pitch.
Oh, no. Wrong move.
"Bitch, the fuck?" I shot back before I could stop myself. "Don't you dare raise your voice at me."
Oops. There went my polite mask. It slipped faster than I intended, but honestly? She had it coming.
Her face twisted in rage, and then she did something I couldn't believe—she raised her hand to slap me. Really? Who even does that?
Before her palm could get anywhere near my face, my instincts kicked in. My hand flew out faster, slapping her hard enough to send her stumbling backward. She lost her balance and fell to the floor with a loud thud.
It was one of those moments that felt straight out of a movie—the kind where the villain pretends to be the victim, complete with crocodile tears.
And, of course, right on cue, Matteo chose that exact moment to walk into the kitchen.
Perfect timing.
The girl—still on the ground—screamed like I'd just committed a war crime. "Matteo! Oh my god! Who is this? She just slapped me for no reason!"
Matteo's gaze shifted between the two of us, his brows furrowing. When his eyes landed on me, he looked… stunned. "You did that?"
I wiped my hands on a kitchen towel and raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?"
End of Chapter