Chapter 2

"Are you crazy, Isabella! That was a gift for Lucia! I'm her father, she shouldn't be so spoiled!"

Alessio's face went cold in an instant.

"And another thing, I've made up my mind. I'm moving Cassandra and the boys in here."

He slammed the door, leaving me to collapse on the floor.

With Lucia barely cold in her grave, he was already moving his mistress and his bastard heirs into our home.

Into the home where Lucia grew up.

That evening, I heard Alessio's voice from downstairs.

"Welcome to your new home."

I stood on the second-floor landing, looking down through the ornate railing, my eyes cold.

The blonde, Cassandra, walked into the hall on Alessio's arm.

Two little boys, about five years old, followed them.

So these were Marco and Mike.

The two kids who had gotten my daughter killed.

"Wow, this house is huge!" one of the boys shouted.

"This is our new home now," Cassandra cooed, her voice so sweet it made me sick. "Do you like it?"

My nails dug into the wooden banister.

This was my home with Alessio.

This was Lucia's playground.

"I object."

I walked slowly down the stairs, every step fueled by suppressed rage.

Four pairs of eyes snapped to me.

"Isabella." Alessio's tone was calm, but I heard the warning in it. "Come meet Marco and Mike. They'll be living here from now on."

"No," I said, my voice like ice. "They don't belong here."

Cassandra immediately played the part of the frightened doe, pulling the two boys behind her. "Alessio, maybe... maybe we should get a hotel for now..."

"That won't be necessary." Alessio walked toward me, his voice turning dangerous. "Isabella will get used to it. Right, my wife?"

"Get used to it?" I laughed coldly. "Get used to watching another woman's kids run around in my daughter's house?"

"This is the Moretti estate," he corrected me. "Marco and Mike are my heirs. They need to learn how to be true Morettis here."

Heirs. That word cut me like a knife again.

"And what about Lucia? She's a Moretti, too!"

"Lucia is a princess," he said, as if stating an obvious truth. "Princesses are to be cherished. Not to rule."

I stared at him. This man was saying the cruelest things in the gentlest voice.

The revenge I was planning felt so distant, so powerless.

I couldn't even stand to breathe the same air as these people.

"If they move in, I'm leaving."

The words hung in the air.

The hall went silent.

A flicker of triumph crossed Cassandra's face.

"What?" Alessio's voice dropped, becoming dangerous.

"I said, I'm leaving," I repeated. "I'm going back to my father's house."

"You're not going anywhere." He stepped toward me. "You are the lady of the Moretti family. No one can replace you."

"Even if I don't want the position anymore?"

"You don't have a choice." His eyes blazed with anger. "Isabella, I made a mistake that every man in power makes. I needed heirs. You couldn't give me sons, so I had to find someone who could. What's so wrong with that?"

That sentence shattered my last shred of hope.

"Wrong?" My voice trembled. "You think betrayal and lies aren't wrong?"

"This isn't betrayal, it's a necessity for the family." He tried to grab my arm. "You need to see the bigger picture."

"The bigger picture?" I yanked my arm away. "So let me see if I understand the bigger picture. It's me, living under the same roof as your goomah and her bastards?"

"Cassandra is not my goomah. She's the mother of my children."

"Then what am I?"

"You are my wife. My forever wife." His tone softened, trying to placate me. "Isabella, we can make this work. You just need to accept reality."

"Mommy, look at all the pretty things!" Marco suddenly ran toward the living room, pointing at something on the coffee table. "What's this?"

I turned, and my heart nearly stopped.

He was pointing at Lucia's favorite crystal music box. Inside was a little ballerina, a gift from Alessio for her seventh birthday.

"Don't touch that!" I yelled.

But it was too late.

Marco had already picked it up and opened it.

A delicate melody played for half a second before the box slipped from his hands and shattered on the marble floor.

The music died.

I fell to my knees, staring at the scattered crystal shards.

Each piece was like a fragment of my broken heart.

"I'm sorry!" Marco cried, terrified. "I didn't mean to!"

I slowly stood up, my eyes filled with nothing but cold, murderous intent.

"Get away from it."

"Isabella!" Cassandra rushed over and hugged Marco. "You're scaring him! He's just a child!"

"He broke it..." My voice choked. "He broke Lucia's most precious thing."

"It's just a music box!" Cassandra shot back, playing the part of the angry mother. "How could you treat an innocent child like this over a toy!"

"A toy?" I spun to face her, the fire in my eyes hot enough to burn her alive. "That was not a toy!"

"Isabella, that's enough," Alessio said, his voice ice cold as he walked over. "It was an accident."

"An accident?" I pointed at the broken pieces on the floor, my voice rising to a hysterical shriek. "Just like your sons' 'disappearance' was an 'accident'? Why is it that every 'accident' involving your precious heirs always comes at the expense of my daughter?"

For a fleeting second, panic flashed in Cassandra's eyes before she masked it with a look of pure innocence.

"Isabella, I know you're upset, but you can't take it out on the children," she said, holding Marco tighter. "They did nothing wrong."

"Nothing wrong?" I scoffed. "If it wasn't for them, Lucia wouldn't have..."

I stopped myself. I couldn't tell them the truth. Not yet. The time wasn't right.

"Lucia wouldn't have what?" Alessio pressed.

"Wouldn't have been locked in that icehouse by you!" I finally exploded. "Wouldn't have been tortured by your so-called 'family training'!"

"It was necessary discipline." He didn't back down.

"She's an eight-year-old child!"

"She is a Moretti." His tone became dangerous. "Isabella, you are becoming a bigger and bigger disappointment."

"A disappointment?" I laughed, a sharp, broken sound that scared even me.

"Yes." He stalked toward me, his face dark. "You're jealous, petty, and taking it out on innocent kids. Where is the grace of a Don's wife?"

"Grace?" I stared at him. "You want me to show grace to the people who destroyed my daughter's treasure?"

CRACK.

The sound of his palm connecting with my cheek echoed through the vast hall, silencing everything.

"Isabella," Alessio's voice was cold as ice. "Show me the grace of a Don's wife."