Chapter 2 2

Isabella POV

The name *Damien Falcone* sucked the oxygen straight out of the room.

For a fraction of a second, the smug, polished mask on Angelo's face slipped, revealing a flicker of genuine panic. Damien was a ruthless predator, unpredictable and lethal-everything Angelo pretended to be.

Angelo cleared his throat, his jaw tight as he desperately tried to regain control of the narrative. "There is no need for dramatics, Isabella. For the harmony of the family, Cecelia and I have discussed a compromise."

Cecelia stepped closer to him, playing the part of the demure, innocent maiden to perfection. "I have no head for numbers or business, Isabella. I find it all so... exhausting. I only want a pure connection with Angelo. Therefore, I am begging you to continue managing the Riggs family's finances. You are so good at it."

I stared at her, letting the sheer audacity of her words wash over me. "So," I said, my voice dangerously soft, "you get to be the Lady enjoying the luxury, and I get to be the maid making you money? Your calculations are quite transparent, Miss Pearson."

Cecelia's delicate complexion turned a sickly shade of pale.

I shifted my gaze back to my husband. "Tell me, Angelo. When exactly did Don Antonio give this blessing? Did he look her in the eye when he agreed to let a judge's daughter share a bed with a made man?"

Angelo's eyes darted away for a fraction of a second. "Not yet."

The two words hung in the air. The truth clicked into place with sickening clarity. The family dinners I had been excluded from over the past month. The sudden hushed whispers when I entered a room. He hadn't just brought her here today; he had paraded her in front of the entire Riggs family. They had all smiled, eaten the food my money bought, and conspired against me.

"You coward," I breathed, the betrayal freezing the blood in my veins.

Angelo's face darkened, the last remnants of his Yale education vanishing. He stepped forward, looming over me with the raw, misogynistic menace of a street thug. "In our world, a man doesn't need a woman's permission to take what he wants. I'm giving you grace by keeping you under my roof."

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a vicious hiss. "Remember your younger brother and sister at the academy. My standing in the Chicago Outfit is their only shield. Cross me, make a scene, and you strip them of that protection. Think very carefully about your next move, Isabella."

Without waiting for my response, he turned on his heel. "Let's go, Cecelia."

The hyenas followed their master out of the room, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind them.

The silence that followed was deafening. From the shadows of the adjoining dressing room, Cressie, my loyal maid, hurried to my bedside. Tears streamed down her weathered cheeks.

"Oh, Miss Isabella," she sobbed, her hands trembling. "Mr. Riggs is a monster. If your mother, God rest her soul, were here to see this..."

The mention of my mother, Sofia, pulled me violently back to the drafty, loveless halls of the Vaughn family estate. I remembered my weak father, constantly bending to the whims of his *comare*, Carie. I remembered Carie's cruel smirks and the piercing screams of her spoiled daughter, Erika Vaughn. Every time Erika threw a tantrum or broke something, I was the one dragged into the cold, damp basement to repent. *You're the older sister, Isabella. You must yield,* my father would say, turning a blind eye to my suffering.

That house had taught me a brutal lesson: tears were useless, and I was entirely alone. It was the reason my mother had used her dying breath and a Blood Vow to buy me a fortress.

But Angelo had turned that fortress into a cage.

I looked up at Cressie, my eyes dry and my heart turning to stone. "Do not call him Mr. Riggs. He isn't anymore."

Cressie blinked, confused. "But the marriage..."

"The marriage was never consummated," I stated, the words sharp and precise. "He left for New Haven the morning after our wedding. In the eyes of the Church and the Cosa Nostra, I am still untouched."

Cressie gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as the implication of my words settled in.

I threw off the crimson silk sheets and stood up, my spine straight. "Go to my study, Cressie. Bring me the mahogany box with the Cantrell family seal. It holds all my dowry lists and ledgers." I looked at the closed door, a dark promise settling in my chest. "It's time to let these parasites know winter is coming."