Isabella curled up in her room after the harrowing encounter in the living room, her mind spinning from her father's bombshell. She clutched her phone tightly, her fingers trembling as she dialed Clara. The moment Clara answered, her concerned voice broke through Isabella's emotional haze.
"Bell? Are you okay? What's wrong?"
"I… I can't" Isabella whispered, tears choking her words. "Clara, it's too much. He's—he's marrying me off to some old man. I can't do this."
Clara's sharp intake of breath was followed by immediate outrage. "What? He's what? Isabella, that's insane! No, you're not doing this. I'll come get you."
"No" Isabella interrupted, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. "I don't want to cause a scene. Can we just… go somewhere tomorrow? I need to get out of here."
"Of course" Clara said softly. "We'll have a girl's day, okay? You don't have to do this alone."
Relieved to have at least one ally, Isabella managed a small, watery smile. "Thank you, Clara."
"Always, bell."
The next day, Clara picked Isabella up and drove her to a cozy part of town with quaint shops and open-air cafés. Isabella had tried to put on a brave face, donning a light sundress and sandals, but the dark circles under her eyes betrayed her sleepless night.
"First stop, coffee" Clara declared, guiding Isabella to a café known for its specialty drinks. "You can't process anything on an empty stomach."
Isabella nodded wordlessly, grateful for Clara's cheerful energy. As they sipped their drinks, Clara chatted about mundane things, hoping to distract Isabella from her troubles.
Isabella managed a weak smile. "Thanks for this, Clara. I really needed to get out."
"Of course" Clara replied, squeezing her arm. "And if you're still feeling down after this, I know a place that serves brownies bigger than my face."
Isabella laughed softly, but the moment was interrupted by an all-too-familiar voice.
"Ladies" Matteo greeted, leaning casually against the café counter. "Fancy seeing you here."
Clara groaned audibly. "Are you stalking us now? Or do you just magically appear every time I'm having a good day?"
Matteo smirked, unfazed. "Relax, princess. The world doesn't revolve around you. I just happen to like this place."
"Of course, you do" Clara retorted. "You probably came here hoping to impress some poor girl with your 'brooding bad boy' act. Let me guess—leather jacket, casual smirk, mysterious aura? Textbook try-hard."
Matteo raised an eyebrow. "Textbook try-hard? Is that what they call charming these days? Don't worry, princess....I'll tone it down so you don't get too distracted."
Clara's mouth fell open in exaggerated disbelief. "Distracted? By you? Please, I'd rather get hit by a bus."
"Good to know" Matteo said smoothly. "I'll make sure to steer clear of crosswalks when you're around."
He looked at Isabella who looked really weak..... Emotionally.
Matteo ignored Clara's remarks, focusing on Isabella. "You okay? You look... tired."
Clara crossed her arms. "Wow, way to point out the obvious."
Isabella gave a faint smile. "I'm fine, really."
Matteo frowned, not convinced. Her voice lacked its usual warmth, and there was a sadness in her eyes that unnerved him. He didn't press her, but the worry stayed with him even as he excused himself and left the café.
Clara scowled at his retreating figure. "What's his deal? Does he not have anything better to do?"
But Isabella wasn't listening. Her thoughts had drifted again, weighed down by the growing uncertainty of her future.
When Isabella returned home that evening, she immediately sensed something was wrong. The air in the house felt suffocating, and her heart sank when she saw Arturo Moretti's car parked in the driveway.
Inside, her mother sat stiffly on the couch, her face pale. Marco stood by the window, his expression stern as Arturo lounged in an armchair, a smug smile on his wrinkled face.
"Ah, Isabella" Arturo greeted as she entered. "How lovely to see you again."
Her stomach turned. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Marco stepped forward, his voice cold. "Arturo is here to finalize the arrangements. The wedding will take place in two weeks."
Isabella's knees buckled, and she grabbed the back of a chair to steady herself. "You can't do this" she said weakly.
Her mother finally found her voice. "Marco, this is madness! She's just a girl!"
"She's a woman" Marco corrected sharply. "And she will do as I say. This family's future depends on it."
Arturo chuckled, as if amused by the drama. "Don't worry, my dear. You'll learn to enjoy my company."
Isabella felt bile rise in her throat. She fled the room, unable to endure any more, but not before hearing her sister's mocking laughter.
"Poor Isabella" Giulia said, her tone dripping with faux pity. "Always the dutiful daughter. Aren't you lucky, getting a rich husband?"
_
_
Later that night, Matteo arrived at Dante's estate. He parked his car and made his way to the study, where Dante was seated at his desk, going over paperwork.
"What is it?" Dante asked without looking up, sensing Matteo's presence.
Matteo hesitated. "I saw Isabella today."
Dante's eyes flicked up, his expression unreadable. "And?"
"She's... not herself" Matteo admitted. "Something's wrong. She looked like she hadn't slept a wink, and she seemed distant. It's not like her."
Dante set down his pen, his jaw tightening. Before he could respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the caller ID and frowned.
"Unknown?" he muttered.
Matteo's eyebrows rose. "Should I track it?"
Dante nodded and answered the call. "Yes?"
"Mr. Vitale" Lucia said, her voice trembling. " Lucia here .... Isabella's mother.I need to speak with you.... It's about Isabella."
Dante's eyes darkened. "Where?"
Lucia gave him the address, and Dante ended the call, already rising from his seat.
"Prepare the car" he ordered Matteo.
Matteo hesitated. "Do you think this is about Marco?"
"Most likely" Dante said, his voice cold. "But I'll find out soon enough."
As they left the estate, Matteo couldn't shake the feeling that something monumental was about to happen.