Chapter 2 2

Isabella POV

The rustle of Elena's silk dress sounded exactly like a viper uncoiling in the dry grass. With the heavy mahogany doors shut and the Russo Underboss gone, the suffocating air in the drawing room seemed to drop ten degrees.

The mask of the benevolent Matriarch vanished from Elena's face, replaced by a sneer that aged her beautiful features.

"Do not think this elevates you, Isabella," Elena said, her voice a low, venomous hiss. "A Don he may be, but Damien Russo is a broken, twisted cripple. Still, I suppose being shackled to a monster is more than a talentless, adopted stray deserves."

I kept my hands loosely clasped in front of me, my expression a blank canvas. "I am aware of my station, Matriarch."

"See that you remember it," she snapped, stepping closer so the cloying scent of her heavy floral perfume washed over me. "You will keep your head down and behave until the Russo family comes to collect you. Do not bring shame to the Herrera name. We are already expending all our resources and time preparing for Sophia and Leo's wedding. I will not have your... *situation* causing unnecessary distractions."

She wanted me to flinch. She wanted to see the sting of being cast aside while the estate celebrated the man who had just publicly humiliated me.

Instead, I offered her a shallow, perfectly executed curtsy. "Of course, Matriarch. I will not be a burden."

My unwavering politeness offered her no satisfaction. Elena's jaw tightened. She clicked her tongue in disgust and swept past me, leaving the room in a flurry of angry silk.

But the trial was not over. The vultures had been waiting patiently in the wings.

Sophia stepped forward, her pristine Chanel suit a stark contrast to the dim, wood-paneled room. Flanking her were Bianca and Giulia, the illegitimate half-sisters. Dressed in cheaper imitations of Sophia's elegant style, they were desperate hangers-on, eager to feast on whatever scraps of cruelty their golden sister left behind.

"Congratulations, Isabella," Giulia chirped first, her voice dripping with saccharine malice. "A wedding within the month! How... rushed."

Bianca stepped closer, her dark eyes gleaming with a vicious thrill. She didn't bother with fake pleasantries. "I hear Don Damien is quite the sight. Crippled, scarred... and cursed. Did you know his last two fiancées died under mysterious circumstances? Do be careful, Isabella. We wouldn't want you to be the third."

A cold knot formed in my stomach at the mention of the dead women, but I didn't let it show in my eyes.

Sophia held up a manicured hand, feigning a gentle reprimand. "Hush, Bianca. Don't frighten her." She turned to me, her beautiful face twisting into a mask of profound, condescending pity. "Isabella... about Leo. I truly hope you aren't holding a grudge. We never meant to hurt you, but... it was destiny. We simply couldn't fight our love."

There it was. The killing strike. She had come to watch me bleed, to revel in the tears of the woman whose fiancé she had stolen.

I looked at the three of them, taking in their eager, hungry expressions. Then, I let a soft, serene smile touch my lips.

"There is nothing to forgive, Sophia," I said, my voice light, airy, and entirely devoid of the heartbreak she craved. "Mr. Contreras and I were clearly not meant for each other. I would never let something as trivial as a broken engagement affect the affection between our families."

Sophia's fake smile faltered. Her eyes narrowed as my absolute indifference hit her like a physical blow. There was no triumph to be had here, no shattered rival to mock. I had denied her the very victory she came to claim.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," I added, giving them a polite, dismissive nod. "I have a wedding to prepare for."

I turned my back on them, signaling Clara with a subtle glance. Together, we walked toward the heavy mahogany doors, leaving the suffocating, perfume-choked drawing room behind, and stepped out into the cold, echoing marble corridors of the estate.