Chapter 3

I stumbled back, my body colliding with a familiar chest.

Vincenzo was already standing behind me, his deep eyes unreadable.

"Isabella, are you spying on me?"

His brow furrowed, his handsome face tight with the annoyance of being disturbed.

He had seen everything.

"So, what was on that audio... it's all true?"

My voice trembled, my nails digging into my palms.

Even then, a pathetic part of me hoped he would say it was a fake, that the audio had been doctored to tear us apart.

Vincenzo was silent.

He avoided my gaze, taking out a cigar cutter and methodically trimming a cigar that wasn't there.

My heart, along with my last shred of hope, shattered.

The next second, he stepped forward, pulling my ice-cold body into a rigid embrace.

That hug, which had once been my greatest comfort, now made me sick to my stomach.

He whispered in my ear, his tone as gentle as if he were soothing a pouting child.

"Bella, it's all in the past. You've seen for yourself, even though I let you take the fall, your position has remained secure, hasn't it? Haven't I been good enough to you?"

"But Amelia is different. She's young. She couldn't handle the pressure of being universally condemned."

I looked up at him in disbelief, my throat feeling as if it were lined with rusty razor blades, each word a searing pain.

On that night three years ago, I watched the bodies of my men being carried out one by one, kneeling in a pool of blood, weeping. It was Vincenzo who had held me back.

He had sworn in my ear, "Bella, don't go. It's dangerous. Leave it to me. The mole who sabotaged the system... I swear I'll tear that bastard limb from limb."

I had cried until I nearly passed out, smearing tears and snot all over his expensive, bespoke suit.

He had patted my back again and again, saying, "It's okay, I'm here."

I was naive enough to believe my husband was my hero.

But while he wiped away my tears, he was turning around to destroy all the operation logs for the real culprit.

My blood ran cold, my rage freezing into a silent, brittle thing.

Just then, the lounge door was thrown open.

Amelia burst in, her hands covering her face, looking like a cornered rabbit.

"Donna, I'm begging you, please stop threatening me with that audio... I really didn't mean for it to happen..."

"Please stop hitting me, it really hurts..."

She let her hands fall, as if by accident.

A bright red handprint was already swelling on her pale cheek.

It was obvious the mark wasn't from my hand, but Vincenzo bought it completely.

He cupped Amelia's face, his eyes full of pain. When he turned to look at me, the last of his patience evaporated.

"Isabella, is this how you threaten her behind my back? Have you no decency?"

In that moment, the dignity of the Donna, the respect for the intelligence officer, it all became a joke.

I fought to keep the tears from falling.

"I didn't touch her," I said, my voice choked with a sob. "If you feel so bad for her, then sign the papers."

I pulled the "Petition to Leave the Family" from my bag and slapped it hard against his chest.

The papers rustled loudly.

The men crowded in the doorway gasped when they saw the title.

Vincenzo stared at me, his eyes filled with disbelief, as if he couldn't comprehend how determined I was about this.

"You're serious? Over this?"

"Isabella, without the De Luca family, without this platform, where will you display all your intelligence skills? Are you sure you want to ruin the rest of your life for some pointless pride?"

I met his gaze and said, word by word:

"For the past three years, I have lived like a dog at your feet."

That crossed the line. Enraged, he snatched a pen and scrawled his name on the agreement, the force of his pen nearly tearing through the paper.

"You asked for this, Isabella. Don't come crawling back to me."

He then threw the papers in my face, wrapped an arm around Amelia's shoulder, and strode out.

The sharp edge of the paper cut my cheek, drawing a line of blood.

His hand on the doorknob, he paused.

"Since you're leaving, you won't be taking anything that belongs to this family with you."

He opened the door and announced loudly to the crowd of high-ranking family members who had been eavesdropping.

"As of today, Isabella is removed from her post as Chief Intelligence Officer. All clearances and keys are to be transferred to Amelia immediately."

That night, Vincenzo didn't come home.

The gossip columns and society pages were flooded with updates about him.

He took Amelia to New York's most exclusive charity gala, introducing her to all the city's political and business elites.

Just as he had done for me five years ago, when he'd taken my hand and elevated me to that same position.

And now, he was using the family's contacts in the press to hint that I was unstable and no longer fit to manage the intelligence network.

I was only now realizing just how terrifying this man could be.

If he couldn't control me, he would destroy me.

The television showed Amelia on his arm, smiling radiantly. I turned off the screen with a blank expression and started packing.

I didn't want a single thing from this place.

Late at night, my phone shattered the silence with a frantic ring.

It was the highest-level alert from the Intelligence Archive.

"Ms. Isabella! It's Amelia! She's taken men and is breaking into Archive One in the North District!"

"That's where you keep all the original files and source data! They've cut the security…"

My breath hitched.

Without a second thought, I grabbed my car keys and the Glock from under the bed, then ran out into the rain-swept darkness.