Chapter 5

Isabella's POV]

The words hung in the air like smoke, choking everyone in the room.

I felt my knees buckle, and Matteo caught my elbow before I hit the floor. His grip was firm, steady, but his eyes betrayed him, flickering between me and my father like he was watching a car crash in slow motion.

"That's impossible," I heard myself say. The words sounded distant, like they belonged to someone else. "You're lying."

My father shook his head, tears streaming down his hollow cheeks. "I wish I was, Isabella. God help me, I wish I was."

Dante stepped forward, his presence a wall of ice and fury. He grabbed my father by the collar and slammed him against the marble pillar in the foyer. The sound echoed through the house like a gunshot.

"Explain," Dante said through clenched teeth. "Now."

My father sobbed, his hands clawing weakly at Dante's wrists. "Your mother—Maria—she met Marco before she met me. They were together for two years. When she got pregnant, he wanted her to get rid of it. She refused. So he left her."

Luca stepped closer, his fists clenched at his sides. "And she married you instead."

My father nodded, his face crumpling. "I loved her. I loved Isabella like she was my own. I raised her, I fed her, I…"

"You sold her," Luca cut him off, his voice dripping with venom. "You sold your own daughter to two mafia families. Don't you dare stand there and talk about love."

My father's face twisted with shame. He looked at me, his eyes begging for something I couldn't give.

"I didn't know what else to do," he whispered. "Marco came to me three years ago. He told me who he was. He told me he wanted to use Isabella to get to the Valentis. He threatened to kill Maria, to kill Sofia, to kill everyone I loved if I didn't cooperate. So I did what he asked. I gave him Victor's location. I gave him everything he wanted."

Dante released him, and my father crumpled to the floor, a pathetic heap of broken bones and cowardice.

I stared at him, my heart hammering against my ribs. "So you knew," I said, my voice shaking. "All these years, you knew Marco Russo was my real father. And you never told me."

"I was trying to protect you," my father sobbed.

"No." I stepped forward, my fear burning away into something hotter, angrier. "You were trying to protect yourself. You always have been."

Enzo appeared beside me, silent and predatory. His dark eyes were fixed on my father with an intensity that made my skin crawl.

"He's telling the truth," Enzo said softly. "I ran a DNA comparison the moment he mentioned it. Marco Russo is Isabella's biological father. The results came back two minutes ago."

I turned to him, my blood running cold. "You ran a DNA test? Without asking me?"

Enzo's smile was thin and unsettling. "I ran it the moment you arrived, Isabella. I needed to know who you really were."

Dante's head snapped toward his youngest brother. "You had her tested without consulting me?"

"I had a suspicion," Enzo replied, his voice calm and eerie. "And I was right. She's not just a pawn. She's the daughter of our greatest enemy. The question is—what do we do with her now?"

The room fell silent.

All eyes turned to me, and I felt the weight of their gazes like a physical force. Dante's cold calculation. Luca's possessive hunger. Matteo's conflicted concern. Enzo's obsessive fascination.

My father was still crying on the floor, a broken man who had destroyed everything he had ever touched.

I looked at Dante, my voice steady despite the chaos inside me. "I'm not my father," I said. "I'm not Marco Russo either. I didn't choose who gave me life. But I choose what I do with it."

Dante studied me for a long moment, his cold eyes searching mine. Then he did something unexpected, he smiled. It was small, barely there, but it was real.

"I know," he said quietly. "That's why you're still standing here."

Luca stepped toward me, his expression softening. The possessiveness was still there, burning in his eyes, but there was something else too—respect.

"You're not him," Luca said. "And you're not your father either. You're Isabella. That's enough."

Matteo nodded, his charm stripped away, replaced by something raw and honest. "We've got your back. Whatever comes next."

Enzo didn't speak. He just watched me, his obsession tempered by something that looked almost like reverence.

I turned to my father, who was still cowering on the floor. He looked up at me, his eyes pleading, his hands trembling.

"What happens now?" I asked Dante, not taking my eyes off the man who had raised me.

Dante crossed his arms, his expression cold and final.

"Now," he said, "we use what we know. Marco Russo wants Elena's confession. He wants to destroy us. But we have something he doesn't."

I looked at him. "What?"

Dante's eyes met mine, and for the first time, I saw the strategist behind the ice, the man who had kept his family alive for three years through sheer force of will.

"We have you," he said. "His daughter. The only person who can access the evidence. The only person he won't kill on sight."

My heart stopped. "You want me to go to him."

It wasn't a question.

Dante nodded. "We won't force you. But you're the only one who can get close enough to access Elena's confession. And once we have it, we can destroy him."

Luca stepped forward, his jaw tight. "No. Absolutely not. She's not walking into that monster's lair alone."

"She won't be alone," Dante replied. "We'll be with her. Every step of the way."

Matteo ran a hand through his hair, his expression pained. "This is insane. He'll know it's a trap."

Enzo spoke from the shadows, his voice quiet but certain. "He won't hurt her. She's his blood. He's been watching her for years. He wants to meet her."

I turned to Enzo, my stomach churning. "What do you mean, he's been watching me?"

Enzo's eyes met mine, and for once, there was no obsession in them—just cold, hard truth.

"Marco Russo has had eyes on you since you were sixteen," Enzo said. "He knew who you were before you did. The only reason he didn't take you sooner was because he needed to destroy the Valentis first."

I felt the floor tilt beneath me. Sixteen. That was the year my father's gambling had spiraled out of control. The year our family had started to fall apart.

My entire life had been a lie.

Dante crossed the room and stood in front of me, his presence grounding me in the chaos.

"Whatever you decide," he said quietly, "we'll honor it. If you say no, we find another way. But if you say yes…"

"I'll do it," I said, cutting him off.

Dante's eyes widened for a moment. "Isabella…"

"I'll do it," I repeated, my voice stronger now. "I'll go to Marco Russo. I'll get Elena's confession and I'll end this."

Luca shook his head, his possessiveness flaring. "You don't have to"

"Yes, I do." I looked at each of them, one by one. "You bought me to use me. But I'm not a pawn anymore. I'm making this choice myself."

Dante's cold eyes softened, and he nodded slowly.

"Then we do this together," he said.

Enzo stepped forward, his dark eyes gleaming with a dangerous promise.

"One condition," Enzo said. "I go with her. I'm the only one who knows Marco's network. I'm the only one who can keep her alive."

Dante's jaw tightened. "Enzo…"

"I'm not asking," Enzo replied, his voice calm but final. "She's mine to protect and I won't let anyone, not Marco Russo, not even you, take her from me."

The room fell silent.

Luca looked ready to argue, but Dante raised a hand, silencing him.

"Fine," Dante said. "Enzo goes with her. But if anything happens to her…"

"It won't," Enzo said, his eyes never leaving mine.

I swallowed hard, my heart racing. Tomorrow, I would walk into the lion's den. Tomorrow, I would meet the man who was my real father,the monster who had destroyed everything I loved and I would end him.

Dante turned to my father, who was still huddled on the floor, forgotten and pathetic.

"Take him to the basement," Dante ordered. "We'll deal with him after."

Luca grabbed my father by the arm and hauled him to his feet. My father looked at me one last time, his eyes broken.

"Isabella," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

I looked at him, the man who had raised me, the man who had sold me, the man who had lied to me my entire life.

"You should have told me," I said quietly. "I would have helped you. We could have faced him together."

My father sobbed, and Luca dragged him away.

I turned to the stairs, my legs heavy, my mind spinning. I needed to sleep. I needed to think. But as I climbed the stairs, one thought burned in my mind like a brand.