Chapter 4 - Whispers in the East Wing
Upstairs, the grand villa was locked down tighter than a federal penitentiary.
Armed guards patrolled every corridor. The remaining guests had been sequestered in the east wing guest suites, their phones confiscated to prevent any leaks from reaching the press or rival syndicates.
Isabella sat on the edge of a velvet-upholstered chaise lounge in her private suite, her hands wrapped around a porcelain cup of chamomile tea that had long since gone cold. Her father had been placed in an adjacent room, refusing to calm down as he shouted threats through the locked connecting door.
A soft knock sounded at her door.
“Come in,” Isabella said, her voice sounding small and exhausted.
The heavy mahogany door clicked open, and Alessandro stepped inside. He had removed his suit jacket; his white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle and faint, jagged scars from past knife fights.
He looked tired—not the tired of a man who missed sleep, but the bone-deep exhaustion of a predator whose pack was turning on him from the inside.
“They killed him,” Isabella whispered before he could speak. “Julian... I heard the guards talking in the hall. Someone poisoned him through the vents.”
Alessandro walked across the room, stopping a few feet from her. He looked down at her, searching her face for any sign of deception.
“Julian was a pawn,” Alessandro said quietly. “Someone gave him the bomb. Someone gave him access to your handbag. And when he was caught, someone on my own payroll executed him to keep him quiet.”
Isabella looked up, her eyes flashing with a mixture of fear and sudden, sharp anger.
“And you still think I had something to do with it, don't you?” she demanded, standing up to face him. “You’re looking at me right now, Alessandro, trying to calculate whether I’m a mastermind or a victim. After everything—after we planned a life together—you still doubt me?”
“I don't doubt the facts, Isabella,” Alessandro replied, his voice dangerously low. “The flash drive was in your bag. Your father’s shipping company is bleeding money, and someone within your family circle has been liquidating assets to unknown offshore accounts. The math doesn't lie.”
“My father’s business has nothing to do with this!” she cried, hot tears finally spilling over her cheeks. “You’re talking about numbers on a spreadsheet while I’m standing here realizing that the man I’m supposed to marry thinks I’m capable of blowing him to pieces!”
She stepped right up to his chest, her small fists clenching against the fabric of his shirt.
“If I wanted you dead, Alessandro Moretti, I wouldn't have let a four-year-old child crawl under your chair to save your life! I would have let the timer hit zero!”
Her words struck harder than any bullet.
Alessandro stared down at her, the fierce armor he wore against the world cracking just a fraction. He reached out, his large, calloused hand gently gripping her chin, tilting her face up so he could look deep into her eyes.
There was no deceit there. Only raw, bleeding anguish.
“If you didn't put the flash drive in your bag,” Alessandro murmured, his thumb brushing away a tear on her cheek, “then someone in this house wants us both destroyed. And until I find out who it is, I can't let you leave my sight.”
“You’re keeping me prisoner,” she whispered.
“I’m keeping you alive,” he corrected softly.
May you like
Before Isabella could reply, a sharp beep echoed from the communicator clipped to Alessandro’s belt.
“Boss,” Marco’s voice crackled through the speaker, breathless and tense. “You need to get down to the security terminal immediately. We decrypted the flash drive recovered from Miss Romano’s bag. You’re not going to believe who set up the encryption keys.”
