Chapter 2 SOLD TO THE DEVIL

CHAPTER 2:

The door shuddered beneath a single knock.

Isabella's breath caught in her throat. The sound was soft-almost polite-but it echoed through the silence like a death sentence. Enzo flinched and moved to the door like a man walking to the gallows. Maria held Isabella's arm tightly, trembling.

"Don't open it," Maria whispered, voice shaking. "Please, Enzo, don't-"

But he already had.

The moment the door opened, the air shifted.

Dante Valenti stood in the threshold like a dark god stepping into the mortal world. Dressed in a black tailored coat that clung to his broad shoulders and Italian shoes polished to a mirror sheen, he looked out of place in their rundown apartment-like a wolf in a butcher's shop.

His gray eyes scanned the room slowly. He said nothing at first, but his silence held more weight than any threat.

Behind him, two of his men lingered-tall, motionless, their faces unreadable.

"Where is she?" Dante asked, his voice deep, calm, cold.

Enzo cleared his throat. His hands were shaking.

"M-my daughter... She's here. Isabella."

Dante's gaze slid past him to where Isabella stood by the kitchen table. She didn't move. She couldn't. Her body refused to obey, as if frozen to the floor by invisible chains.

"So," Dante said, eyes narrowing, "this is the payment."

Those four words shattered the fragile illusion that maybe, somehow, this wasn't real.

"Dad, no," Isabella said softly, barely above a whisper.

Enzo turned toward her, his face twisted in shame and fear.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I didn't mean-"

"You didn't mean?" she hissed. Her voice cracked. "You didn't mean to sell me off like livestock?"

"It wasn't like that!" Enzo cried. "I had no other choice!"

Dante stepped further inside, his eyes never leaving hers. "You had a choice. You made it. Now I've come to collect."

Maria pushed in front of Isabella, her arms wide. "Please, she's just a girl. Take the house. Take me instead-"

"I don't want the house," Dante said coolly. "And I definitely don't want you."

He flicked his eyes toward Enzo. "Are we clear?"

Enzo couldn't even look at him. "Yes... yes, Mr. Valenti. She's yours."

Time stopped around her.

Isabella felt her chest cave in, her stomach twist in knots. Her father had spoken the words-sealed the deal-and suddenly, everything was real.

She took a step back. "You can't do this."

Dante raised an eyebrow. "I already have."

Two of his men moved forward.

"No!" Isabella screamed. "No-don't touch me! I'm not going with you!"

She fought like hell. Her nails clawed at the air, at their arms. She kicked, screamed, twisted, and bit.

"Let go of me!" she cried. "MOM! DAD!"

Enzo looked away.

Maria collapsed to her knees, sobbing.

Dante simply watched Coldly,Detached and Unmoved.

The world blurred around her as the men dragged her out of the apartment. The cold night air slapped her face as she was shoved into the back of the black car. The door slammed shut. She lunged for the handle but it was locked.

"Let me go!" she cried, pounding the glass. "Let me go, please!"

The car pulled away.

Inside the apartment, silence lingered like smoke after a fire. Enzo sat down slowly, staring at the door as though realizing, too late, what he had done.

The car ride was quiet. Too quiet.

Isabella's heart pounded in her chest like a caged bird. The men in front didn't speak. She tried to remember everything she'd heard about Dante Valenti. That he ran weapons. That he ran women. That he had a whole fleet of lawyers and killers on payroll. That no one crossed him and lived to tell the tale.

She was nothing to him.

Just payment.

She didn't cry. Not yet. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

After a half hour of driving through the city, the car turned into a gated estate surrounded by tall hedges and iron fences. It was an entirely different world-one of luxury and danger. The mansion loomed ahead like a fortress from another era, dark stone, tall windows, and lights that glowed like fire behind glass.

The gates closed behind them.

They were in his world now. She was led inside, up marble steps, through velvet halls. She didn't fight anymore. She knew it was useless. Her body ached. Her heart ached worse.

Finally, they reached a massive room-an office, by the look of it. Mahogany bookshelves, leather furniture, and behind the desk was the devil.

Dante Valenti sat like a king on a throne.

"Leave us," he ordered his men without even looking at them.

The door closed behind her with a soft click.

Isabella stood there, arms trembling. Her clothes were wrinkled, her lip swollen from the struggle. She didn't say anything.

"You bite," Dante said, eyes scanning her face. "I like that."

"Go to hell."

A ghost of a smirk crossed his lips.

"You're angry. That's good. It means you haven't broken yet."

"You can't just take people. I'm not some object to be bought and traded."

"Your father thought otherwise."

She wanted to scream. Hit him. Break something.

But she didn't. She stood tall.

"You'll get nothing from me," she said. "Nothing."

Dante rose from the chair slowly. He walked toward her, every step deliberate. When he stopped in front of her, she felt the sheer force of him. His presence was overwhelming.

He leaned in.

"I'm not interested in breaking you, Isabella," he said softly.

"Then what do you want?" His eyes gleamed.

"You're not just payment," he whispered.

Her breath caught.

He took a step closer. "You're going to be my wife."

Silence fell like a thunderclap.

She staggered back, mouth open. "What?"

"You heard me."

"Are you insane?"

"Your father's debt was substantial. Very few things hold more value than money in this world. But marriage..." His smile was thin. "Marriage can change everything."

"Why me?" she spat. "Why me, of all people?"

Dante studied her. "Because you're useful. You're beautiful. And because marrying you sends a message."

"To who?"

"Everyone."

She was shaking. "I won't do it. I'd rather die."

Dante stepped closer, his voice low. "Don't be so dramatic. This isn't about love or choice. It's about control. You don't have to like it. You just have to say 'I do.'"

She stared at him, stunned,Disgusted and Terrified.

"And if I don't?"

He leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear.

"Then your mother pays for your refusal."

Isabella's eyes widened. Her knees nearly gave out.

"You bastard."

"I prefer devil, if you're taking titles."

*********

She was led to a guest room-if it could be called that. It was bigger than their entire apartment, decorated in silks and gold, the kind of room that looked like it belonged in a royal palace. The bed alone could swallow her whole.

But Isabella didn't sleep.

She sat on the edge of the bed, trembling, her mind racing.

Married. To a mafia don. For a debt her father created.

She didn't know what scared her more-the man himself, or what he might truly want from her. This wasn't just a power play. It was something darker. More calculated.

She had to escape. Somehow. But for now, she was trapped. Trapped in the devil's mansion.

Trapped in a game she never agreed to play.