Chapter 5 5

Isabella POV

The formal dining room of the Moretti Estate felt less like a place to gather and more like a sacrificial altar. The blood-red velvet table runner stretched across the mahogany wood, and the expensive silver cutlery was lined up with the precision of surgical scalpels. The cloying scent of white lilies mixed with chemical polish, creating an atmosphere that was perfectly, suffocatingly dead.

I stood near the head of the table, the heavy sapphire necklace resting against my collarbones like a jeweled collar.

Vincenzo strode into the room, his tailored suit immaculate. He didn't look at me, his eyes scanning the crystal glasses for smudges.

"Does Giuliana know about this?" I asked, my voice tight. "This dinner? The photo op you have planned to parade me around?"

He didn't even blink. It was as if I hadn't spoken at all. Vincenzo closed the distance between us in two long strides. He raised his hand, his cold fingers brushing against my throat as he roughly adjusted the sapphire pendant.

"It's crooked," he murmured, his tone devoid of anything human. "The assets of the Moretti family must remain perfect at all times."

Before I could swallow the bile rising in my throat, the heavy oak doors of the drawing room opened. My stepmother, Lydia, and my stepbrother, Joseph, had arrived.

Lydia reeked of cheap floral perfume and desperation. The moment Vincenzo stepped away to pour a drink at the bar, she grabbed my arm, dragging me toward the corner of the room.

"You need to get him to write the check tonight," Lydia hissed, her eyes darting nervously toward Vincenzo. "Joseph's new business needs capital."

"I can't just ask him for money, Lydia," I whispered, trying to pull away.

Her manicured acrylic nails bit painfully into my bare skin. "You think you're some *Mafia Queen* now?" she spat, her voice dripping with venom. "You are our lifeline! You are a *Collateral Bride*. Go beg him. Use your body, use your tears, do whatever it takes! If we don't pay the Rossi family, they will chop us up and feed us to the fishes. You're just as useless as your bedridden mother!"

The mention of Hazle felt like a knife twisting in my gut. I looked at Lydia's greedy, panicked face and realized there was no family here. Only parasites.

I tore my arm from her grip and walked straight to the bar. Vincenzo was watching Joseph, who was nervously wiping his sweaty hands on the expensive Italian silk sofa.

"Give them the money," I said to Vincenzo, my voice trembling with a mixture of rage and exhaustion. "Pay them off so they leave. Please."

Vincenzo slowly turned his whiskey glass, the ice clinking softly. A chilling, calculated smile touched his lips. "I will handle your brother's debt. But everything has a price, Isabella." He leaned in, the scent of bergamot wrapping around me. "Tonight, when the photographer arrives, you will play the adoring wife. You will look at me like I am your entire world. When the camera flashes, you will kiss me like you crave it. Show New York how united we are."

I stared into his merciless hazel eyes. I was selling pieces of my soul just to survive the night. "Fine," I whispered.

By the time we moved to the dining room, the tension was thick enough to choke on. Vincenzo stood at the head of the table, raising his crystal glass of Barolo.

"To *La famiglia*," Vincenzo declared smoothly. "To the family bond, and above all, to loyalty. The foundation of our empire."

"To loyalty," Joseph echoed weakly, sweat beading on his forehead. He looked terrified, his eyes constantly darting to his lap.

I watched my stepbrother closely. He was acting too erratic, even for a coward in the presence of a Don. As Vincenzo took a sip of his wine, Joseph's hands fumbled under the table.

I deliberately knocked my linen napkin off my lap.

I ducked under the table to retrieve it. In the shadows beneath the heavy velvet cloth, Joseph's phone screen was illuminated. My eyes locked onto a new text message notification from a contact saved as "G.G."

*Did the Don take the bait on the port deal? Text me the moment you're clear.*

My heart stopped. G.G. Giuliana Gallo.

Joseph wasn't just a pathetic gambler. He was a rat. He was spying on the Dark Don for the Don's own mistress. And Giuliana wasn't just after my title-she was orchestrating a move against the Moretti family's core business. Vincenzo, the man who thought he controlled the world, was swallowing a poisoned bait.

I grabbed my napkin and sat back up, my blood running ice-cold. Vincenzo raised his glass to me from across the table, expecting my submission. I picked up my wine, my hand perfectly steady, and met his gaze.