Chapter 3 : Castellano Estate

ISABELLA's pov

The kitchen was quiet, the hum of the old refrigerator was the only sound breaking the stillness. Dinner was over, the dishes were washed, and yet I found myself lingering by the window, staring into the dark yard outside. Something felt off tonight.

Father had been unusually quiet during dinner, barely touching his food, and Lady Marissa was acting sweeter than usual-which only ever happened when she wanted something. I knew better than to trust that tone in her voice or the smile she forced onto her face.

"Isabelle!" Lady Marissa's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned to see her standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips. "Are you just going to stand there all night? There's still laundry to fold."

"I was just about to-"

"No excuses," she interrupted, her smile vanishing. "You know how much your father works to keep this house running. The least you can do is pull your weight."

I bit my tongue, swallowing the sharp retort that threatened to slip out. I'd learned long ago that arguing with her only made things worse.

As I gathered the laundry basket and made my way upstairs, I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that had settled in my chest. Something was definitely wrong.

When I finished folding the laundry and returned downstairs, Lady Marissa was waiting for me in the living room. Her sharp eyes scanned me from head to toe, and she let out a low hum of disapproval.

Without a word, she tossed an old, worn-out dress in my direction. I barely managed to catch it before it hit the floor.

"Wear this early tomorrow morning. We will be going somewhere," she said, her tone leaving no room for questions.

I clutched the dress tightly, nodding. "Thank you, Lady Marissa," I said softly. The words came naturally, and I meant them. She didn't have to give me anything, and the fact that she'd even thought of me-no matter how small-made me smile.

I stretched the fabric of the dress, running my fingers over its surface. Though it was old and clearly out of Lady Marissa's regular wardrobe rotation, it was far nicer than anything I owned. Compared to my faded, patched-up clothes, this felt like a small treasure.

A rare flicker of excitement stirred in me. I didn't know where we were going the next day, but just the thought of stepping outside these walls-even if only for a while-was enough to brighten my mood.

**

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The next morning, I was up before the sun. Marissa's dress hung from the edge of my bed, neatly pressed and ready. I didn't have an iron, but I'd spent a good hour last night carefully smoothing out every wrinkle with my hands. It wasn't perfect, but it would do.

I washed up quickly and slipped into the dress. It fit surprisingly well, though the sleeves were a bit loose, and the hem brushed just above my ankles. I smiled at my reflection in the cracked mirror propped against the wall. For once, I didn't look like a charity case.

Voices echoed from the hallway as I made my way to the kitchen. Aria's loud laughter rang through the house as she fussed over her hair. "I told you that shade of red wouldn't suit me, Matteo! I should've worn emerald-ugh, now I look like a tomato."

Matteo's deep, amused voice followed. "Relax, Aria. No one's going to care what you wear once the Godfather arrives."

I stepped into the kitchen, my eyes meeting with Marissa's. She was dressed in one of her finer gowns, sipping tea like she had nowhere to be. She glanced briefly at me, her gaze sweeping over my dress.

"Well, at least you look presentable," she muttered, setting her teacup down.

"Thank you," I said, forcing a small smile. Her tone was far from kind, but I chose to focus on the fact that she hadn't called me a burden this morning.

Aria strutted in behind her, her curls bouncing with every step. She wore a long maroon gown with a slit that reached her thigh and heels that clicked confidently against the floor. She tossed me a side glance and smirked.

"Oh wow, Isabella. That's the dress Mama gave you?" she asked with faux innocence. "Looks... humble."

I ignored her and turned away.

Father shuffled in next, his shirt half-buttoned and his hair sticking up in every direction. He barely glanced at me as he grabbed a piece of bread from the counter. Marissa shot him a sharp look, and he straightened up instantly, muttering something about being ready soon.

Matteo appeared moments later, already dressed in a black suit and adjusting his cufflinks. He looked far too polished for someone just riding in a beat-up sedan.

"Where are we going, Lady Marissa?" I finally asked, unable to contain my curiosity any longer.

"You'll see," she replied curtly, her lips pressed into a thin line.

I didn't dare push further. Instead, I kept quiet, eating the small piece of bread she handed me before following everyone outside to Father's car.

It was an old, beat-up sedan that had seen better days. The paint was peeling, and one of the doors creaked loudly every time it opened. Matteo winced as he slid into the passenger seat, clearly unamused. Aria scrunched her nose and waved her hand in front of her face like the air inside was poison.

I slid into the backseat beside them, trying not to cringe at the musty smell that clung to the worn-out upholstery.

The ride was mostly silent. Marissa stared out the window, occasionally adjusting her gloves, while Father fidgeted with the steering wheel. Aria tapped away on her phone, probably updating her followers about her outfit. Matteo sat still, eyes on the road, while my mind raced with possibilities.

The streets grew busier as we entered the heart of the city. Shiny black cars and sleek sports vehicles zipped past us, their engines roaring like they belonged to a different world entirely.

When Father finally parked, my stomach twisted with nerves. We'd arrived at the Castellano estate, the largest and most intimidating mansion I'd ever seen. Its grand gates loomed above us, flanked by guards in dark suits who eyed us suspiciously before letting us through.

Marissa stepped out first, smoothing her dress with a practiced hand. Father followed, his face pale as he glanced around nervously. I hesitated for a moment before stepping down, clutching my skirt tightly.

"Keep your head down and don't say a word unless spoken to," Marissa hissed, her voice low but sharp.

I nodded quickly, my heart pounding as we approached the main entrance. The doors were already open, and a lavish hallway stretched before us, filled with glittering chandeliers and polished floors.