Chapter 7 7

Isabella POV

Angelo's chest heaved as he glared at me, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. I kept Cressie safely tucked behind my back, my posture perfectly straight, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flinch.

"Is that your grand plan?" he spat, stepping further into my sanctuary, his heavy boots tracking street dirt onto the pristine Persian rug. "You think throwing the ledgers at my mother is going to bring me to my knees? You think you can embarrass me in front of the entire Chicago Outfit with a petty tantrum?"

He let out a harsh, ugly laugh, running a hand through his dark hair. "You merchant daughters are all the same. No sense of honor, just cheap calculations. You think you can hold my own family's money hostage to get your way?"

*His family's money?* The sheer audacity of his delusion almost made me laugh out loud. Every tailored silk thread on his back, every bribe that had paved his way to becoming a Made Man, was paid for by the Vaughn fortune. But I didn't waste my breath correcting him. I simply offered him a slow, chilling smile.

He took my silence as submission, his chest puffing out as he misread the room entirely. The last shred of guilt he might have harbored for breaking our vows vanished, replaced by the arrogant certainty of a tyrant.

"Listen to me, Isabella," he commanded, his tone shifting to a sickeningly patronizing drawl. "My union with Cecelia is happening. It is done. And if you even think about using your dirty little tricks to harm her, I will make you regret it."

He paced a few steps, acting the part of a benevolent king. "But I am not an unreasonable man. You have a head for numbers. I'll allow you to remain as the Family's Advisor. You can continue managing the businesses you're so fond of. It's the best arrangement for you. Let's face it-without the Riggs name protecting you, you're nothing but a target on the streets."

He actually believed he was doing me a favor. He thought my lack of a powerful mafia bloodline made me a desperate, clinging thing who would swallow his infidelity just to keep a roof over my head.

I looked at him, truly looked at the pathetic, arrogant man I had once sworn to obey, and let the ice in my veins freeze over my words.

"I refuse."

The words were quiet, but they cracked through the room like a gunshot. Angelo stopped pacing. His brow furrowed in genuine confusion, his arrogant mask slipping for a fraction of a second. "What did you say?"

"You're being hysterical," he muttered, shaking his head as if dealing with a stubborn child. "Think about what you're doing. You have nowhere else to go. This arrangement-"

"Let's get an Annulment, Angelo," I cut in, my voice devoid of any emotion. "There's nothing more to say."

For a second, absolute silence reigned. Then, Angelo threw his head back and barked out a loud, mocking laugh. It echoed off the high ceilings, harsh and grating.

"An Annulment?" he sneered, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. "You think you can just walk up to the Don and demand an Annulment because you're jealous? You'll make a fool of yourself, Isabella. They'll brand you a crazy, bitter woman. You have no grounds, no proof, and no power."

He took a step closer, trying to use his sheer size to intimidate me. But I didn't shrink back. I held my ground, my fingers lightly brushing the hidden pocket of my skirt where the heavy bronze Blood Chit rested.

"You should be more concerned with what the Don calls a man who breaks a Blood Vow," I said, my voice dropping to a lethal, silken whisper. "They have a word for that, Angelo."

I paused, letting my eyes lock onto his, ensuring he saw the absolute void where my wifely devotion used to be.

"Rat."

His jaw tightened, a flash of pure indignation crossing his handsome features. Before he could formulate another insult, I turned my back on him, walking slowly toward the large bay windows overlooking the estate.