Betrayal

Third Person POV

Swallowing the sob rising in her throat, Isabella turned and fled. 

She couldn't let them see her, couldn't let them know she'd overheard their twisted scheme. 

She found refuge in a dimly lit alcove, hidden behind a towering floral arrangement. 

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her mind racing, trying to process the betrayal. All of these at once, and that too on her birthday, it wasn't everyday that she would hate herself but today was just it and she had had about enough. 

The thought of it seemed to pierce through her with a sharp pain. 

‘Sofia was coming back.’ That woman, a ghost from the past, still held power over Marco. 

And the shares…it all came back to power.

She replayed Marco's words in her mind: "She's just a pawn."

The casual cruelty of it stung more than she could have imagined.

Taking a deep breath, Isabella forced herself to focus. 

Panic wouldn't help her now. She needed a plan, and she needed it fast. 

They thought she was a fool, a naive pawn to be manipulated. 

They were wrong.

 She was Isabella Rossi, and she wouldn't be played.

But how? She couldn't confront them directly, not yet. 

They would deny everything, and she'd lose the element of surprise. 

As she considered her options, she became aware of a presence.

 Someone was watching her. 

She could feel it, a prickling sensation on the back of her neck.

Slowly, cautiously, she turned.

Standing in the shadows, his face obscured by the dim light, was a figure she didn't recognize. 

He was tall, lean with glossy blonde hair and flawless pale skin, but it was his eyes that really captured her attention.

They were a glacial blue and radiated an unsettling amount of quiet intensity. 

He stepped forward, emerging from the darkness.

 A sardonic smile played on his lips.

"Having a rough birthday, Principessa?" he asked, his voice a low, mocking drawl. 

"It looks like you've seen a…….ghost."

Isabella's hand instinctively went to the gun. 

Who was this man, and how much did he know?

"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice barely a whisper.

He chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "I'm hurt you don't know me! Well, let's just say I'm a friend. Or perhaps...an enemy of your enemies, as the saying goes."

He paused, his eyes locking with hers. "Tell me, Isabella, how far are you willing to go to protect what's yours?"

Isabella stared at the stranger, her mind racing.

Who was this man? And who did he think he was to even speak to her?

She couldn't help but wonder if he was part of Marco and Amelia's scheme.

Immediately she felt anger sweep over her, making her flush visibly.

Let them try. Let them try to ruin her. She would show them.

She was Isabella Rossi and she will make them regret ever crossing her.

For years she had controlled her father's Empire by his side, this was the first time someone had openly planned to cross her path in such a defiling manner and she wasn't going to sit there and watch. 

She straightened up with a cold glare, her lips curling into a sneer, “It's none of your concern. And I suggest you don't make it." She hissed, venom embedded in every word.

Turning in her heel, she stormed away, the power of her rage making her blood boil.

Growling under her breath, she slammed her way into the nearest restroom, the opulent space offering little comfort.

 She threw her clutch onto the marble vanity with a resounding thud before slamming her palms angrily against the cool surface.

“Fuck!"

She yelled, her voice echoing in the empty space, a raw expression of her pain and fury.

Then, the anger drained away, leaving her feeling hollow and empty. 

Her shoulders slumped, her chest hitching as she remembered the betrayal she had just witnessed.

‘How could he do this to her?’

Despite everything she had said she would do, it still hurts knowing she would have to completely let go of the man she once thought she loved whole heartily. 

Tears streamed from her eyes as she cried silently, the weight on her shoulders had never felt more heavier. 

She could still remember the first time she met him, the spark of attraction that had ignited between them.

They had met in college, fierce rivals, always competing for the top spot in their classes. 

Their families, both powerful and influential Mafia families, did business together, so their paths kept crossing, their lives intertwined.

Somewhere along the way, amidst the rivalry and ambition, she had fallen for him, her heart betraying her.

But back then, he was already with Sofia.

And they were so, so sickeningly in love.

The most popular couple in the school even.

Isabella had never tried to interfere in their relationship, never allowed her feelings to surface. 

She had kept her love buried deep, a secret she guarded with fierce protectiveness.

Then, three years ago, Sofia had suddenly left the country, disappearing without a trace. 

Not long after, Marco had proposed, his words filled with promises of love and devotion.

Isabella naively agreed. 

A girl madly in love and would do whatever it would take to win the heart of the man she would spend the rest of her life with. 

A naive fool, that's what she was. 

Later, she found out that his family had been teetering on the brink of financial ruin, their empire threatened by a series of bad investments.

Her father had agreed to help them but on one condition: Marco must marry her.

She’d thought about leaving, about walking away from the man she loved, knowing that their union was based on a transaction, not on love. 

But…..she loved him and couldn't bear the thought of losing him. 

She had convinced herself that, over time, he would learn to love her back

And over the three years of marriage, he’d been good to her, gentle and attentive.

She thought maybe, just maybe, he had learned to love her back.

But now she knew the truth. 

The kindness had been nothing more than a sham and she had just happened to fall right into that trap, Marco had her in the palm of his hands. 

Isabella, the once powerful ringleader, was now nothing more than a puppet to climb up the ranks and she knew a little too late. 

Now that his family had recovered, she was no longer useful, and would be tossed away like a pawn in a chess board. Worse he even wanted to ruin her in the process.

Her fists clenched so tightly that blood beaded from her palms.

But the pain in her hands was nothing compared to the ache in her chest.

Her vision blurred with unshed tears.

'If he never loved me… then I won’t love him either,' she declared inwardly, a mere spoken words to protect her mourning heart. 

Her fingers trembled as she pulled out her phone and booked a one-way ticket abroad, leaving in one week.

Then, she made a call she hadn’t made in a long, long time.

A call that would set in motion a chain of events that would change everything.

She would give him what he wanted and he would be completely dead to her. 

From this day forward, she and Marco would go their separate ways.