Chapter 4

I dragged the dusty, matte black tactical case from under the bed.

Inside lay the master encryption keys to the family’s entire dark web network, along with backups of every shred of evidence I had collected over the years—proof of Lorenzo colluding with the police and selling out his allies.

If I was going to reclaim my throne, I needed these chips. These files were enough to get him killed ten thousand times over.

The door opened. Lorenzo walked in. He saw the mess and the open suitcase, and his brow furrowed slightly.

"Why are you digging out all this old junk?"

He naturally assumed I was doing some meaningless cleaning, or perhaps organizing things to please him.

"Well, whatever. Those old ledgers should have been thrown out years ago. They clutter the place up."

He walked up behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder in a gesture that felt like charity.

"I know I've been busy with the turf war lately. I've neglected you, and I know you've been stewing on it."

He paused, waiting for gratitude.

"I had my assistant book tickets. I'm taking you to the Maldives. A proper vacation. Just you and me."

"Consider it a reward," he said smugly, "for being such a good keeper of the house while I was out conquering the city."

I froze. I almost laughed out loud.

A reward?

I didn't need his charity.

On the contrary, I was about to give him a "surprise" he would never survive.

A few days later, Lorenzo came home beaming, waving a clutch of first-class tickets in the air.

"We’re going to the Maldives. I’ve booked the top-tier ocean villas. My assistant handled everything—flights, hotels, the works."

Sofia took the tickets to distribute them, then let out a theatrical gasp.

"Oh no, Lorenzo! Why are there only four boarding passes?"

She looked at me with wide, innocent doe eyes—a perfect mask for the venom underneath. Her fingers clutched the four tickets tightly.

"I told the assistant to book five... it must have been a system error. It missed one. Oh, Isabella, I am so terribly sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. I thought it was automatic, but now First Class is completely sold out."

Lorenzo waved his hand dismissively, pulling out his phone. "It's not a big deal. Why are you blaming yourself? I’ll just have the assistant book a commercial economy seat for Isabella right now."

"No way, Dad!"

My son, Leo, practically jumped off the couch, grabbing Lorenzo’s arm with a look of pure petulance.

"Can we just not take Mom? It's so boring when she's around."

"Exactly!" My daughter, Mia, chimed in, shooting me a look of disdain. "Mom never lets us eat anything good, she never lets us have fun. If she comes to the beach, she's just going to nag us about sunscreen and ban us from swimming in the ocean."

"Taking her will literally ruin our vacation! It’s a buzzkill, and honestly, she’s embarrassing."

Lorenzo hesitated. He looked at me, and I could see the calculation in his eyes. He was starting to agree that bringing me—the woman he saw as nothing more than a pasta-maker—would be a burden.

Sofia’s eyes darted between us, and she seized the moment. Her voice was soft, like honey laced with arsenic.

"You know... we have those Cane Corso guard dogs in the basement. The ones we just brought in from the wild. I don't trust the regular soldiers to feed them. They've just tasted raw meat; their temperaments are volatile. They only listen to family.

Why don't... why don't we let Isabella stay here to guard the stronghold? She can watch the house and take care of the beasts. Isabella is so detail-oriented; she’s the only one who can do it right."

Lorenzo’s eyes lit up. It was the perfect excuse to dump his baggage. He turned to me, his tone shifting to that of a commander addressing a subordinate.

"Sofia is right. Isabella, you sit this one out. I'll take you next time."

I looked at the three of them—the ungrateful wolves I had raised and protected, and the cuckoo who had stolen my nest. They stood there, smug and triumphant.

They thought that by leaving me behind, they were stepping on me.

They had no idea that without me holding up the sky, their little world of glory and status would crumble into dust.

"Fine."

The corner of my mouth hooked up into a cold, razor-thin smile. I looked at them the way a mortician looks at a cadaver.

"You all go. Have the time of your lives."