The Crime Lord's Obsession

Epilogue.

The cold, damp walls of the basement made Isabella shiver as she struggled against the restraints digging into her wrists. Faint footsteps echoed in the darkness before a door creaked open, spilling dim light into the room making her squint against the harsh rays. A shadowy figure stepped forward.

Rosa. Isabella’s breath caught in her throat. Wasn't she Nikolai’s late wife? She had once seen her picture frame in Nikolai's room.

"You look surprised, huh? I guess you've heard of me," Rosa mused, a cruel smile stretching across her lips. "Did you think I'll let you live happily with my husband?"

"He’s not your husband," Isabella snapped, glaring daggers at her.

"Not my husband? Huh? Is he yours?" Rosa’s expression darkened, and in a swift motion, she struck Isabella across the face, sending her head snapping to the side. "You don’t understand, do you?" Rosa whispered, leaning closer, and lifted Isabella's face with a fingertip. "I never loved your Nikolai. I married him to gain his trust, so my husband could destroy him, but he killed my husband! So I'll kill you too!" She said angrily. "And you? You’re also another pawn in this game, aren't you?" She asked knowingly, as she pulled a gun from her pocket and pointed it at Isabella.

Isabella’s blood ran cold, Rosa's statement wasn't entirely wrong, but it hurt her that the love Nikolai had mourned for years had been a lie.

"I won't let you have him, Isabella. If he can't be with me then no one can be with him," Rosa announced, and a gunshot broke the silence of the basement.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Moretti estate.

Isabella sat by the edge of the pool, a soft smile at the corners of her mouth. She hummed a soft tune as she flipped through sketches for her fashion collection. Everything felt perfect, just as it always had been for her.

Suddenly, she chuckled, running her fingers over the fabric spread out on the table beside her. In just a few weeks, she would finally launch her dream fashion brand, 'The Bella Versailles.'

"I’ve been working on this since college," she murmured to her best friend, Sofia, who lounged on the chaise beside her. "And now that it’s finally happening, I can't believe it."

"Spare me bitch. You mean since junior high school?" Sofia teased, sipping her iced tea. "You were always designing dresses and handbags during math class."

Isabella laughed, twirling her pen between her fingers. "Well, well, math was boring, and I wouldn't understand a thing even if I paid attention."

"Won't you come up with something else? I'm tired of this excuse already," Sofia said, chuckling. That was always Isabella's excuse to skip mathematics classes. "But I'm proud of you girl!"

Isabella leaned back, closing her eyes as the warm breeze swept through her long, red-brown hair. Life was perfect. Her father’s influence, her mother's connection, the renowned A-list actress in the city and her exceptional talent paved the way for a glamorous future.

"Miss Moretti, your father has requested your presence in his study. He says it’s urgent." One of the servants announced, her head bowed.

Isabella frowned, exchanging a glance with Sofia. That was new. Her father, Alessandro Moretti, rarely interrupted her unless it was necessary.

"Urgent?" she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Yes, miss. He insisted."

With a sigh, Isabella grabbed her silk cover-up and slipped it over her bikini. "I’ll be right back," she informed Sofia and walked through the grand stairs.

Her father was a well-known business tycoon, known for having ventured into different sectors, from running real estate companies to entertainment industries in the country.

When she reached the study, she knocked lightly before pushing the door open, closing it behind her with a soft click. Her father stood by the window, his back to her, his hands clasped tightly behind him. Her mother, Vivienne Brown sat on the edge of the leather sofa, her posture unusually stiff and her eyes red as if she had been crying. Something felt off.

"Dad, Mom?" Isabella called out softly.

Mr. Alessandro turned, his face lined with worry. "Isabella, my dear, you're here. Have a seat."

Isabella squinted her eyes as she obeyed, sinking into the leather armchair opposite his desk. "You requested for me? What’s up?"

"I'm sorry for interrupting you princess, but I don't think there's an easy way to say this," he began, his voice grim. "Our family is in danger."

Isabella blinked in confusion, "danger? What do you mean?"

"There’s someone who has been targeting us for years. I’ve tried to shield you from this, but it’s no longer safe for you to stay here. They’ve made threats against your life. I don't think I should hide this from you anymore."

Isabella's stomach dropped. "Threats? Who? And why is he targeting us?"

"That’s not important right now, dear," he said, brushing off her questions. "What matters is your safety. I’ve arranged for you to leave immediately. You’ll be taken to a private location where you’ll be protected."

"No." The word slipped out of Isabella's mouth before she could stop it. She shot to her feet, her voice rising. "I’m not leaving, papa… I'll be launching my brand in a few weeks. It has always been my dream."

"Your career won’t matter if you’re dead!" he snapped, slamming his hand on the desk, his eyes red with anger. " You think I haven't thought it through. I don’t want to lose you, princess. Not to those cruel monsters."

She flinched at his outburst, he had never spoken to her that way, but her anger burned hotter. "You can’t just order me to leave here without an explanation! I deserve to know who is after my life! Mom, why don't you say something?" Isabella turned to her mother, hoping at least she would say something.

But when her mother remained silent, it hurt her more. It had slipped her mind that her father was the only voice in their house.

Alessandro’s expression softened slightly, but his voice remained firm. "I can’t give you the details now but trust me it’s for your good. You’ll be safe there, and I won't have to worry about your safety then."

Isabella clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white. Her parents had always supported her dream, yet they were the ones killing it!

Alessandro moved around the desk, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Please, Isabella. Do this for me. For your mother. I promise this won’t last for long, I will take care of it in no time."

She wanted to argue, to scream at him that she wouldn't go, but the pleading look in her mother's eyes silenced her. Despite her anger, she knew they wouldn’t make such a decision for nothing, they loved her.

"When do I leave?" she asked finally when she couldn't argue anymore, her voice broken, barely above a whisper.

"Tomorrow morning."

Tomorrow. It felt like a death sentence. Without another word, Isabella ran out of the study, tears streaming down her cheeks, her blood boiling with rage. All her life, her father controlled her life, from her school choices to her friends’ circle. Today, however, she refused to let her father control her life, not without one last taste of freedom.

As she stepped back into the pool area, she sat at the edge of the pool and dangled her feet in the water. The corners of her mouth lifted as her gaze flicked up towards her father's study. A plan formed in her mind as a mischievous smile etched on her face. If this was her last day of freedom, she would make it count, that way at least she would have one final night to herself. And nobody, not even her father was going to stop her.