Chapter 2 2

Isabella POV

The heavy oak doors clicked shut behind Daniel, sealing us in. For a heartbeat, the silence in my father's study was absolute. Then, the storm broke.

"I will mount his head on the gates of this estate!" my father, Adrian Wolfe, roared. His massive frame shook with a fury that usually preceded a bloodbath. The shattered crystal on the rug crunched beneath his expensive leather shoes. "I will burn the Marino family to the ground for this disrespect!"

I let out a choked sob, my knees buckling just enough. My mother, Elizabeth, caught me instantly, pulling me into the warm, familiar scent of her expensive perfume.

"Hush, *mia colomba* (my dove)," she murmured, her eyes flashing with a cold, lethal light as she glared at the door. "We will make them pay. I will personally see to it that the Marino name becomes dirt in Chicago."

I buried my face in her shoulder, forcing my body to tremble. "Papa," I whispered, my voice fragile. "I'm scared."

My father stopped his pacing. His sharp eyes, usually so ruthless, softened as he looked at his only daughter. "No one will hurt you again, Izzy. I swear it on my life."

"But what if... what if Daniel is right?" I looked up, letting a single tear slip down my cheek. "What if the hit at the speakeasy wasn't just the Marinos? I keep having nightmares, Papa. What if there is a rat in our house? Is that why Daniel ran?"

The word *rat* hung in the air, heavier than the scent of spilled whiskey and cigar smoke. My father's expression shifted from blind rage to a dark, calculating suspicion. A Don could not fight a war blind.

"A rat," he repeated softly, the word tasting like poison. He looked at my mother. "Before we strike Burnett Marino, I need to know my own house is clean. I will have the Capos tear this organization apart until we find the leak."

"And while you do that," my mother added, her voice like ice, "I will send someone to the Marino estate to return every single engagement gift. We will throw their disrespect right back in their faces."

I lowered my head, hiding the dark satisfaction blooming in my chest. *Perfect.*

An hour later, the weeping, broken girl vanished the moment the door to my private suite locked behind me. I stripped off the white dress-a symbol of the innocent Mafia Princess I used to be-and slipped into a dark silk robe.

From the shadows near the balcony, Ashlee stepped forward. She wasn't just my driver or assistant; she was a Wolfe-trained Soldier, and the only person in this world I truly trusted.

"My lady," she said, her voice tight with suppressed anger over what had happened downstairs.

I didn't turn around, keeping my eyes on the mirror as I wiped away the ruined makeup. "Ashlee. I need you to dig into Celine."

Ashlee blinked, surprised but unwavering. "Celine, miss?"

"Everything," I commanded, my voice steady and cold. "From the day my father brought her into this house. Every person she's spoken to, every gift she's received. I want to know exactly how long she's been spreading her legs for Daniel Marino, and what else she's hiding."

Ashlee dropped to one knee, bowing her head with absolute loyalty. "Yes, my lady."

I changed back into my day clothes, ensuring my eyes looked red and puffy, before walking down the hall to Celine's room.

When she opened the door, the scent of white roses hit me. She looked pale, her doe eyes wide with perfectly manufactured distress.

"Izzy..." she breathed.

"Why, Celine?" I asked, letting my voice crack. "I thought you were my sister."

She immediately reached for my hands, pulling me inside. Tears spilled over her long lashes. "Izzy, you have to believe me, I never wanted this! Daniel... he wouldn't stop pursuing me. I told him no, over and over, but he said he was trapped. He said he loved me too much to let me go. I was so confused, so scared..."

I watched her weep, marveling at the flawless execution of her lie. If I hadn't died on that speakeasy floor, I would have believed her. I would have comforted her.

Instead, I squeezed her hands, playing my part. "I understand," I whispered brokenly. "It's not your fault, Celine. It's his."

I pulled away, leaving her standing in her room, looking like a tragic heroine.

The moment the door clicked shut behind me, the tears stopped. I wiped my cheek, my expression hardening into stone. The trial was over. She was guilty.

I turned on my heel and headed straight back toward my father's study.