Chapter 3 3

Isabella POV

I paused outside the heavy oak doors of my father's study, taking a slow, measured breath. The cold, calculating woman who had just condemned Celine to my mental guillotine vanished into the shadows of my mind. In her place, I summoned the ghost of the girl I was supposed to be-the heartbroken, terrified Mafia Princess whose world had just been shattered.

I pushed the doors open, letting my shoulders slump.

The study still smelled of spilled whiskey, expensive cigar smoke, and raw, unadulterated violence. My father was pacing behind his mahogany desk like a caged apex predator.

"I will send the Enforcers tonight," Adrian Wolfe snarled, his one good hand curled into a lethal fist. "I want Daniel Marino dragged out of his bed. I want his blood on the streets before sunrise."

"Papa, no," I whispered, my voice trembling perfectly.

I crossed the Persian rug, carefully avoiding the glittering shards of crystal, and sank back into the comforting embrace of my mother. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around me, her eyes flashing with a dangerous, maternal ferocity.

"War is too easy for them," I said, looking up at my father through wet lashes. "A bullet is quick. But Daniel insulted our *Honor*. He insulted you, Papa. If we just kill him, the other families will think it's a simple dispute. We need to make them live in shame."

My father stopped pacing. His sharp, eagle-like eyes locked onto mine, the blind rage slowly giving way to a dark, calculating interest. "What are you saying, Izzy?"

I swallowed hard, playing the part of a wounded girl finding her strength. "Tomorrow night is the Marino family's weekly dinner. Send one of our *Caporegimes*. Have him walk right into their dining room and throw every single engagement gift-especially that heavy gold Marino crest ring-onto their table in front of their entire family and their Capos. Let everyone see that the Wolfe family throws them away like garbage."

A heavy silence fell over the room. My father stared at me, and for a fleeting second, I saw a spark of dark pride ignite in his eyes. He was seeing the Wolfe ruthlessness bleeding through my silk dresses.

"She is right, Adrian," my mother said, her voice smooth and deadly as a drawn blade. "It is the most elegant and fatal strike. We strip them of their dignity before we strip them of their territory."

My father nodded slowly, a cruel smile touching the corner of his mouth. "Consider it done. Burnett Marino will choke on his own humiliation."

I lowered my eyes, hiding the vicious satisfaction blooming in my chest. I didn't just want Daniel dead; I wanted his pride pulverized.

"But what about Celine?" my mother sighed, her tone softening as she stroked my hair. "The poor girl has been dragged into this mess. Daniel's obsession could ruin her reputation. Adrian, we should send her to my brother in New York. The Deleon family will keep her safe until the dust settles."

Panic flared cold and sharp in my veins, but I kept my expression perfectly sorrowful. I couldn't let Celine leave. If she went to New York, she would slip through my fingers, and my vengeance would be incomplete. I needed the serpent right here in my garden.

"No, Mama," I said, pulling back slightly to look at her. "If we send her away in the middle of the night, what will the Outfit think? They will whisper that Daniel was telling the truth. They will think we are hiding her because she is guilty. It will look like the Wolfe family cannot even protect an innocent orphan in our own territory."

My father's jaw tightened. The mere suggestion of looking weak was poison to a Don. "Izzy makes a valid point. Running is for cowards."

"Then how do we protect her?" my mother asked, her brow furrowing in concern. "How do we clear her name?"

I took a deep breath, laying the final brick of my gilded trap. "We do it the old way. The right way," I said softly. "Bring her here. Let her stand before the Don. Let her look you in the eye, Papa, and tell you exactly what happened with Daniel. Give her the protection of a formal family hearing. Once she clears her name before you, no one in Chicago will dare speak a word against her."

It was a flawless argument, wrapped in the sacred traditions of our world. My father, a man who lived and breathed the rules of the Mafia, straightened his posture.

"A Don's judgment," he agreed, his voice resonating with absolute authority. "It is the only way to cut the rot from the root."

My mother nodded, completely convinced by my display of 'sisterly devotion'. She turned toward the door. "Billie!"

Her trusted maid appeared in the doorway almost instantly, bowing her head. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Go to Celine's room," my mother ordered, her tone shifting back to the imperious Mafia Queen. "Tell her the Don requests her presence in the study. Immediately."

"Yes, ma'am." Billie turned and hurried down the hall.

I leaned my head against my mother's shoulder, staring at the empty doorway. The trap was set, the jaws wide open, waiting for the little lamb to walk right in.