Chapter 3

I didn't argue with my father about who really counted as family.

The very next day, I realized there was no point in arguing.

Viola barged into my late mother's walk-in closet and slipped an old ring onto her finger.

It was the ring my father had given my mother when she was pregnant. In my last life, I kept it locked deep inside that closet. I never imagined it would one day end up on his illegitimate daughter's finger.

"Take it off."

Viola turned, saw me, and held up her hand, deliberately wiggling the finger wearing the ring. "Isn't it pretty?"

I walked over and pulled the ring right off her finger.

She gasped in pain. "What are you doing?!"

"I should be asking you that."

"Dad said we're all one family now." Viola lifted her chin. "You have everything, Sis. Why shouldn't I?"

I laughed under my breath. "Because you don't have my mother."

Her face went dark with rage.

I put the ring away and called for the butler. Then, in front of the entire staff, I locked the closet door.

"Nobody goes in here without my permission."

My father came as soon as he heard. His face was grim before he was even through the door. "What is it this time?"

"Why don't you ask her?"

"Viola only went in to look around."

"And I only locked a door."

My father glared at me, his patience wearing thinner by the second. "Isabella, she's only just come back to this family. Do you have to humiliate her every chance you get?"

"Only just come back?"

I looked him straight in the eye. "Antonio, she spent over 20 years out in the cold. Whose fault is that?"

My father's face turned ugly. "That's not her fault."

"It's not mine either."

That shut him up. Then, without warning, he raised his hand.

I didn't flinch.

But the slap never came.

A strong hand caught his wrist from behind.

"Enough." Luca stood in the doorway, his eyes ice-cold. "She's my fiancée. You can scold her, but don't lay a hand on her in front of me."

My father's face darkened. "This is Moretti family business."

"Soon it'll be mine too."

Luca let go of my father's wrist and came to stand beside me. He rested his hand on the back of my neck and drew me behind him, the way he had countless times before.

My body remembered before my mind could stop it, and for a moment, I still felt safe.

But I hadn't forgotten that I was already planning my way out.

That feeling lasted right up until the study door closed behind us.

Luca poured himself half a glass of something strong.

"Your father says you won't budge on the seaside safe house either."

I met his eyes. "So he told you about that too."

"He asked me if I had somewhere else to put Rosa and Viola."

"Put them?" I was so angry I almost laughed. "That's my mother's house."

"I know." Luca took two steps closer. "Isabella, it's just a house. If you love being by the ocean, I can buy you a new one. It'll be bigger, have better security, and be closer to Bellini territory."

I didn't say anything for a few seconds.

"If someone takes what my mother left me to remember her by, what good would ten mansions from you do?"

Luca had no answer.

I kept going. "Do you honestly not know what I care about?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know you can't let go of Elena. But Antonio never acknowledged Viola in public all these years. She's only just come back to the Moretti family, and your father wants to make it up to her."

"So making it up to her means giving away what's mine?"

"You already have so much."

The study went dead silent after that.

In my last life, I'd heard some version of that more times than I could count.

You've got all those shares your mother left you. She has nothing.

You grew up at the Moretti estate with everything handed to you. She grew up scraping by out there.

You're Luca's wife. She's only your sister.

You already have so much. Would it kill you to give a little?

I stared at Luca.

"So you think that way too."

He frowned. "That's not what I meant."

"It doesn't matter what you meant anymore."

Just as I turned to leave, I heard my father's voice outside the door. "Viola's been badly shaken lately. Have Raphael look after her for a few days."

I stopped dead.

Raphael Greco, my bodyguard, was right outside the door.

He'd been with me since my mother was still alive. The first time I ever fired a gun, he was the one standing behind me, steadying my arm. On the day of my mother's funeral, everyone kept taking turns telling me to be strong. He was the only one who simply closed the car door and sat there with me in silence for three hours.

I pushed open the study door and walked out.

"Pick someone else."

My father looked at me. "Viola says she's scared of you."

"So?"

"Raphael knows how you operate. He knows how to handle an emergency."

I scoffed. "He's my bodyguard."

Luca came out of the study behind me. "I'll assign you two bodyguards."

I turned around. "What?"

"The two best men the Bellini family has. Their aim, reflexes, and gear are all better than Raphael's. Your security won't drop one bit." He said it in all seriousness, like he really was doing me a favor.

But all I felt was exhaustion.

It was always the same logic with them.

My mother's safe house could be swapped for a fancier new one. Raphael, who had been by my side for years, could be swapped for a more capable bodyguard.

As long as what they gave me in return was pricier and better, they figured I had no business caring about the precious things they'd taken.

"Fine."

I looked at Raphael.

"Go protect her."

Luca relaxed a little. He probably thought I'd finally learned to back down.

Raphael frowned. Once everyone else had moved away, he lowered his voice. "Ms. Moretti, did something happen?"

"Why do you ask?"

"The old you would never have let go this easily."

For a long time, I said nothing.

For a second, I almost told him everything, the whole plan to leave.

In the end, I just patted his shoulder lightly.

"Keep yourself safe."

Raphael wanted to ask more, but Viola called for him from the stairs. "Raphael, can we go now?"

He looked back at me, then turned and walked toward Viola.

I stayed where I was and watched him go.

What they took from me was never anything you could put a price on.

But every single time, someone would promise to make it up to me with something better.