MasukThe Romano estate was quiet in the early morning, the sun casting long, golden streaks across the polished marble floors. Isabella sat at the edge of her office desk, fingers drumming lightly against the wood as she reviewed reports. The events of the past days—the attack in the parking lot, the tension with the De Luca family, and the aftermath with the captured assailant—still clung to her mind like a persistent shadow. Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door.“Come in,” she said, without looking up.Ryan stepped inside, carrying his usual calm composure. His presence had become a constant in her world, a steadying force that she could neither ignore nor fully control.“I need to talk to you,” he said, closing the door behind him. There was an edge of seriousness beneath his otherwise measured tone, and Isabella’s instincts sharpened immediately.“What is it?” she asked, finally meeting his gaze.“I’ll be with the De Luca family for the next few days,” he said, mat
The warehouse sat at the edge of the old industrial district, a rectangular block of rusted metal and cold indifference. Isabella’s men had secured it hours earlier, sweeping through every corner before bringing in the captive. Now the air inside buzzed with a tension that tasted like metal and old secrets.The man they had captured was bound to a steel chair in the center of the room. His wrists were cuffed behind him, ankles strapped, head drooping forward as if the weight of what he refused to say had already broken him.Isabella stood in front of him, arms crossed, jaw set in a line that warned she was inches from losing her patience. Ryan and Marco lingered behind her, each for their own reasons: one because it was his job, the other because he refused to leave her side.“Lift his head,” Isabella ordered.One of her men stepped forward and jerked the captive’s head upright. He blinked through the harsh overhead lights, eyes darting between the three of them. Someone trained. Or s
Isabella sank onto the couch with a soft groan, the warm evening air drifting in through the open windows, carrying a quiet relief from the chaos of the parking lot ambush. Her ankle throbbed, a sharp reminder that danger had been very real, very close. Ryan was already beside her, seated on the couch, his body angled carefully toward hers, his eyes focused and alert as they studied the swelling and bruising along her ankle. The intensity in his gaze was precise, professional, yet there was something else—a subtle undercurrent that made the air between them taut.“Let me handle this,” he said, his voice steady, authoritative, with a calmness that made Isabella’s pulse jump in ways the adrenaline alone could not explain. She nodded, trying to maintain composure, aware of how the soft curve of her leg brushed against his as he leaned closer.She adjusted herself slightly, bending her knees, and almost instinctively, Ryan took both her legs in his hands. Gently, almost reverently, he lif
The late afternoon sun dipped low over the city, casting long shadows across the parking lot of the upscale restaurant. Isabella Romano had just exited with Marco, her ever-vigilant lawyer, when a subtle shift in the air caught her attention. Something was off. The warmth of the evening, the distant hum of traffic, all of it seemed to fade as her instincts screamed.Before she could fully process the sensation, a group of men materialized from the shadows near the far end of the lot. They moved quickly, silently, their intentions unmistakable. Isabella’s heart skipped, the reflexes she had honed over the years kicking in.“Move!” Marco barked, instantly positioning himself between her and the approaching figures.Two of the men lunged simultaneously, attempting to grab her. Pain shot through Isabella’s ankle as one of them caught her heel mid-step, twisting it sharply. She stumbled, barely keeping her balance.“Isabella!” Ryan’s voice cut through the chaos as he appeared at the edge o
The restaurant was understated yet elegant, the sort of place where polished wood, soft golden lights, and the low hum of conversation could make anyone feel simultaneously at ease and exposed. Isabella Romano stepped through the entrance with the grace she had cultivated over a lifetime, heels clicking softly against the polished floor. She paused for a moment to adjust the strap of her bag and scanned the dining room. She wasn’t here for business, not officially. Just a quiet lunch, a pause in the storm of her life, a moment to breathe before diving back into the endless calculations of family strategy.Yet life rarely afforded pauses.As she moved toward a table near the window, her eyes caught an arrangement that made her chest tighten. Adriano De Luca and Gianna were already seated, sipping wine, their bodies turned slightly toward each other in a manner that seemed casual yet deliberate. Isabella’s first impulse was to turn and leave, to vanish into the quiet anonymity of the re
The De Luca Estate was cloaked in the heat of the late afternoon, sunlight slanting through tall windows and illuminating dust motes that drifted lazily in the air. Adriano sat at his desk, the divorce documents from Isabella’s lawyer spread before him, and he stared at them as if willing them to vanish. The letters were official, cold in their precision, yet the thought of signing them brought a flicker of irritation that he could not shake. He pushed the papers aside and leaned back, his expression unreadable. For him, Isabella had been nothing more than a pawn, a tool in a long game of revenge against the Romano family.His mother entered the room with her usual measured grace, her hands lightly clasped in front of her. “Adriano, have you looked at these? The divorce papers?” she asked, her tone polite but carrying a subtle undercurrent of concern. She had always preferred Gianna to Isabella, seeing in her a daughter-in-law far more suited to the De Luca image, and the thought that







