Instigated

Third person POV

Marco watched Isabella retreat, a knot forming in his gut.

That sharp retort… it wasn't like her.

Had he miscalculated?

"Did I say something wrong, my love?" Sofia murmured, her eyes glistening as she steadied him.

He squeezed her hand, forcing a smile. "Don't worry your pretty little head. Isabella's just being… difficult tonight." He steered Sofia towards the treatment room, dismissing his wife as a temporary annoyance.

Outside, Isabella inhaled the crisp night air, a futile attempt to clear her head.

 The city lights blurred before her vision as tears filled her eyes.

“Damn you Marco." She whispered, brushing hears roughly with her uninjured hand.

Hiccuping softly, she slid into her car, the leather cold beneath her touch.

Starting the engine, she drove of, the city lights blurring in her windows.

***

She arrived at their shared penthouse an hour later.

Her head felt like it was in a fog and she could barely focus on anything.

Striding through the opulent space, she headed to the bedroom, striping her dress off her body as she went.

Striding naked into the large footclaw bathroom, she stepped into the rainfall shower and switched it on.

The hot water immediately cascaded over her.

It was meant to be soothing but the heat did little to thaw the chill that had settled in her bones.

Huffing, she turned it off and toweled herself dry, pulling on a large black rock band t-shirt she still had from teens before crawling into bed.

She closed her eyes but sleep remained elusive, haunted by all she had seen today.

Sighing for what felt like the upteempth time, she resigned herself for a night of tossing and turning.

***

Morning finally arrived and Marco still wasn't back yet.

After everything that had happened yesterday coupled with the lack of sleep, she honestly felt like death warmed over.

Frowning, she picked up her phone, ready to cancel all her meetings today when she froze.

She had a message.

From Sofia: So what if you’re Mrs. Vitale? The one Marco has always loved is me.

Attached were photos of Marco fighting at the airport while Sofia hid behind him with large eyes, another of him holding Sofia's hand as he sat on a hospital bed getting his bruises and cuts treated, and finally one of the two of them sleeping side by side on the same bed, his arm protectively around her.

Isabella's eyebrows drew together. 

How dare she?

Rage rose up in her like a tide.

She was about to delete the message when the bedroom door creaked open.

"Isabella? You're up early," Marco said, sounding surprised as he stepped inside.

Isabella immediately dropped her phone on the bed sheet, smoothing her face into one of neutrality.

“Yes, I'm awake." 

He walked over to the bed and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

But as he leaned down, the red scratch marks across his chest came into view—and hit her like a slap.

She could brush off Sofia's taunts. 

But those blatant marks of cheating? That was something else entirely.

"Isabella, last night was my fault," he continued, not realizing that Isabella wanted nothing more than to break his neck 

"Sofia had just gotten back and already ran into trouble… I was worried. I didn't mean to say those things to you, okay?"

He kissed the back of her hand and smiled. "I've arranged something for tonight. Just a small get-together—Sofia, Amelia, a few of our friends. We'll celebrate your birthday properly. And Amelia wants to apologize for pushing you yesterday."

He looked into her eyes like he meant every word. But Isabella felt nothing but cold.

Last night, after she left the hospital, she realized she had forgotten the ointment the doctor prescribed. So she drove back immediately.

And that's when she overheard them again behind a privacy screen.

Amelia's voice was anxious, "Marco, the plan didn't work last night. What now?"

Sofia however, sighed like Micheal was overacting.

“What's the big deal Mimi? Just invite her out tomorrow, say it's to apologize for the push, then slip her the drug then."

Marco didn't even protest. " That's a good idea Sofia.” He sounded so proud, so fond.

Isabella hadn't stayed to hear more. She grabbed the ointment and left, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place with sickening clarity.

Now he was back, pretending nothing had happened. 

Like he hadn't planned to ruin her.

"I don't feel like going," she said, her voice flat.

Marco's expression darkened for a second, but it vanished just as quickly, replaced by a warm smile.

"Come on, tesoro, don't be like that. Everyone's already invited. Don't ruin the mood, okay?"

He pressed a kiss on her forehead like nothing was wrong.

“…Fine. I’ll go," she said. "But I'll choose the place."

If he wanted her there, she would go. Besides, she had something she needed to do, too.

Marco hesitated, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes. But he nodded. "Whatever makes you happy. Just send me the details. I'll pick you up at eight."

As he left, he paused at the door, a predatory glint in his eyes.

"Wear something… unforgettable, Isabella. It's your birthday. Make it count."

Watching him disappear, Isabella felt a surge of cold determination. 

The game was far from over.

The hours crawled by.

Isabella immersed herself in work, poring over contracts, the legal jargon a temporary distraction from the turmoil within her. 

As Marco's car pulled up by eight on the dot, she grabbed her purse and left the penthouse.

The car ride was quiet, and before long, they arrived at the KTV lounge she had chosen.

As soon as they stepped into the private room, the loud music made her frown.

"There you are, Isabella!" Sofia called out, rushing over. "Come sit here!"

Without waiting for a response, she grabbed Isabella's hand and led her to the center of the room.

"They were supposed to welcome me back today," Sofia said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, "but Marco insisted on making it your belated birthday party. So here I am, just tagging along."

She gave Isabella a look filled with mock sincerity. "See how much Marco loves you? I hope you don't mind me being here."

Isabella scanned the room. Nearly everyone was a friend of Sofia's or Marco's. 

A humorless chuckle rose in her throat.

So this was her birthday celebration? More like Sofia's welcome party in disguise.

Just then, Amelia came over, holding two glasses of wine.

"Isabella, I'm really sorry about yesterday," she said, looking sheepish. "I didn't mean to push you like that. Please don't be mad."

She extended one of the glasses.

Isabella's eyes flicked from the drink to Marco, who was lounging nearby, silently smoking. 

He didn't say a word or make a move.

A repeat of the same trick.

Isabella felt like rolling her eyes. Did they really think she was that stupid?

"Of course, I forgive you, Amelia," Isabella finally said, her voice smooth as silk. "But if you truly want to make amends… why don't you drink both of these? After all, you're the one who needs to be forgiven."

Amelia's face paled. Her hand shook violently, spilling a few drops of champagne.

Before the situation could escalate, Sofia intervened, her voice sharp.

"That's enough, Isabella. You're being ridiculous. Mimi's just trying to apologize. Don't make things difficult."

She reached for the champagne, her eyes blazing with anger.

Isabella held up a hand, stopping her. Her voice, though soft, cut through the noise.

"If she's just trying to apologize, then why are you so eager to defend her, Sofia? What are you so afraid of?"

"Enough." A cold voice suddenly rang out.

Marco stubbed out his cigarette and stood

He strode towards them, his eyes fixed on Isabella. "You're pushing it, Isabella. Amelia apologized. Just accept it and move on."

He snatched the champagne from Sofia's hand and thrust it towards Isabella. "Drink it. Now. And don't you dare make a scene."

His voice brooked no argument.

Isabella looked at the champagne, then met Marco's gaze, her eyes going blank.

In that moment, she knew she had lost him completely. No. She never even had him in the first place.

She glanced at her watch. The clock was ticking. She had no intention of playing their game any longer.

She turned to leave.

But Marco wasn't done.

He grabbed her wrist, yanking her backward. 

Isabella crashed onto the sofa, pain shooting through her injured hand.

Before she could react, he gripped her jaw and forced the contents of the glass down her throat.

Isabella choked and gargled, a bit of the wine spraying.

“S-ugh-stop!’

But Marco was relentless as he poured more down her throat, the woman struggling and trying to push against the hand squeezing her cheeks but her husband's grip was like steel.

No one stopped him. Around her, people only watched, some amused, some indifferent.

Her vision blurred as humiliation burned through her. When the last drop was forced down, Marco finally let go.

Gasping for air, Isabella shoved him away. She grabbed her bag and bolted for the restroom, the taste of the drugged wine burning in her mouth.