Chapter 4 Broken Pieces

Isabella's POV

My heart pounded as I sprinted up the stairs, Lorenzo right behind me. The crash had been loud, too loud.

When I reached Matteo's room, I froze.

The lamp by the window lay shattered on the floor, pieces of glass scattered across the hardwood. Matteo stood near the wreckage, his small hands clenched into fists, his breathing ragged. His wide, dark eyes darted between the broken lamp and Lorenzo, as if expecting a punishment.

My chest tightened.

Lorenzo didn't speak at first. He took a slow step forward, his face unreadable.

Matteo flinched.

That tiny movement shattered something inside me.

I quickly stepped in front of Lorenzo, shielding Matteo before I could think twice. "It's just a lamp."

Silence.

I could feel Lorenzo behind me, his presence heavy, tense. But I didn't back down.

"Matteo, are you hurt?" I asked softly, ignoring the sharp energy in the room.

The boy hesitated before shaking his head.

"Okay," I said gently. "Accidents happen."

Matteo's fingers tightened around the hem of his sweater, but he didn't say anything.

Lorenzo exhaled sharply behind me. "Go wait downstairs, Isabella."

I turned to face him. "What? No-"

"That's an order."

My breath hitched at the command in his tone. This wasn't a request. This was the side of him she'd only heard about, the man people feared.

But I wasn't afraid of him.

I glanced back at Matteo, whose small frame was rigid, his expression unreadable.

Then, against my better judgment, I turned on my heel and walked out of the room.

I didn't go downstairs.

Instead, I stopped just outside the door, pressing my back against the wall, my hands clenched into fists.

Then I heard Lorenzo's voice. low, quiet, but firm.

"You can break every damn lamp in this house, Matteo. I don't care."

Silence.

Then, Matteo's voice, barely a whisper. "Mom wouldn't have liked that."

My chest ached.

Lorenzo's reply was quieter, almost pained. "I know."

A long pause.

Then, Matteo asked the one question that made my breath catch.

"Are you going to make her leave too?"

My stomach twisted.

Because for the first time, I wasn't sure if I had a choice.

I held my breath, listening.

The silence stretched between Lorenzo and Matteo, thick with something unspoken.

Then Lorenzo finally answered, his voice quiet but firm.

"No one is making her leave."

There was no hesitation in his words, but something about the way he said them sent a chill through me. It wasn't a reassurance, it was a warning. A statement of fact, as if he had already decided her fate.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to step away from the door before I was caught eavesdropping.

Downstairs, I paced the length of the kitchen, trying to shake the uneasy feeling crawling up my spine.

Lorenzo Romano was a man wrapped in secrets. I had known that the second I stepped into his home. But now, standing in the dimly lit kitchen, I couldn't shake the thought that I had stepped into something far bigger than I had bargained for.

I had come here to take care of Matteo.

Not to get involved.

Not to get too close.

But it was too late for that, wasn't it?

The sound of footsteps on the stairs made me tense. I turned just as Lorenzo entered the room.

He looked different, tired, maybe. Frustrated. But his expression gave nothing away.

"He's fine," Lorenzo said, leaning against the counter. "I told him you'd still be here in the morning."

I crossed my arms. "Would I?"

Lorenzo's gaze darkened slightly. "You're not leaving, Isabella."

Something about the way he said it made my pulse quicken.

I should have been relieved. This job paid well. Matteo needed me. But there was something else lurking beneath Lorenzo's words, something unspoken, something dangerous.

"What if I wanted to?" I asked carefully.

His jaw tightened.

"Then I'd have to convince you otherwise."

A shiver ran down my spine.

Before I could respond, a loud thud came from the front of the house.

Lorenzo moved instantly, his entire body shifting from tense to dangerous in the span of a heartbeat. His hand went to his waist, and my breath caught as she realized, he was armed.

"Stay here," he ordered, his voice sharper than I'd ever heard it.

But I wasn't the type to stay put.

Ignoring his warning, I followed as he strode toward the door.

And when he yanked it open, I barely stifled a gasp.

A man stood just beyond the threshold, blood dripping from his temple, his breathing ragged.

"Lorenzo," the man rasped, swaying slightly. "They found us."

Lorenzo's entire body went rigid. His fingers twitched near his gun.

Then the man's knees buckled.

I barely had time to react before he collapsed onto the floor at their feet.