Chapter 5 5

Isabella POV

The unforgiving gray waters of Lake Michigan still held my gaze when Sofia timidly announced my brothers' arrival the following afternoon.

I received them in my private parlor. The room was a testament to Franco wealth-gilded Italian furnishings, walls adorned with sweeping Sicilian landscapes, and the faint, expensive scent of lilies. It was my domain now, a symbol of my new reality. My brothers looked entirely out of place as they barged in, bringing the stench of their greed into my sanctuary.

Sean didn't bother with pleasantries. He tossed a legal document onto the polished mahogany table. "Sign it, Izzy. We're taking the West Loop warehouses back."

"Are you?" I asked, keeping my voice perfectly level.

"It's for your own good," Sean continued, his tone clipped and cold. "Those properties are tied to the O'Bannon Boys. You're in over your head. For the sake of Rowland decency and your safety in your new husband's home, transfer the deeds back to Rowland Company."

I glanced at the papers, then back at him. "No. My assets are mine to manage."

Liam's face flushed a violent shade of red. "You selfish little bitch," he snarled, stepping forward. "You have no idea what you're doing! You're going to drag the whole family down with your stubbornness!"

"I said no, Liam."

My calm only fueled his rage. Liam lunged, his heavy hand clamping down hard on my upper arm. He tried to drag me toward the table, his fingers digging brutally into my flesh. "You'll sign it right now-"

I didn't flinch. I didn't pull away. I simply looked down at his hand, then up into his furious eyes. The air in the parlor turned to ice.

"In this house, I am Mrs. Franco," I said, my voice a deadly, quiet whisper. "Touch me again, and my husband's *Soldiers* will teach you what happens to those who disrespect the *Don's* property."

Liam froze. The sheer weight of the threat-the invocation of the *Cosa Nostra*'s absolute, bloody laws-seemed to finally pierce his thick skull.

Connor moved instantly. He grabbed Liam by the shoulder and yanked him back. "Are you out of your mind?" Connor hissed at him. Connor wasn't protecting me; he was the only one smart enough to realize that assaulting a mafia Don's wife inside his own fortress was a guaranteed death sentence.

Realizing they had lost this battle, Sean snatched the unsigned papers. They turned toward the door, but Connor lingered for a fraction of a second. His eyes were dark with venom.

"You'll get what's coming to you," Connor muttered. "A rat in a gilded cage is still a rat."

I watched the heavy oak door click shut behind them. *Go on, protect her,* I thought, the memory of my past life burning bright in my mind. *One day you'll learn the truth about the viper you've raised. You'll learn who was really selling your secrets to the Irish mob when you thought you were making a deal.*

The silence of the parlor didn't last long. Barely twenty minutes after my brothers' retreat, the door opened again.

Clara slipped inside, carrying a silver tray of delicate pastries. She wore her signature mask of wide-eyed innocence, a sweet smile painted on her lips. She sat beside me on the velvet settee, reaching out to gently cover my hand with hers.

"Izzy, I heard what happened," she murmured, her brow furrowing in perfectly rehearsed concern. "The boys were too rough. But... I am worried about you. I heard the O'Bannon Boys are active in the West Loop. You must be terrified."

It was a calculated probe. She wanted to see if my newfound spine was real or just a momentary flare of defiance. She was using the Irish mob as a ghost to frighten me into submission, hoping I would break down and hand over the leverage they so desperately craved.

I didn't pull my hand away. I didn't show a flicker of the fear she was hunting for. Instead, I turned my head and looked directly into her eyes. I let the silence stretch until her smile began to strain at the edges.

"Do you want them, sister?" I asked, my tone deadpan and precise.

The question struck her like a physical blow. Clara's breath hitched, and the saccharine smile completely vanished from her face, leaving behind a cold, calculating stare. The illusion of our sisterly bond shattered into a thousand irreparable pieces right there on the Franco settee.