Chapter 17

Isabella's pov

I couldn't stay still. My body refused to cooperate with the idea of rest, even though my arm throbbed with a dull, persistent ache beneath the fresh bandages.

The maid had left hours ago, and I had been alone in this room ever since, staring at the walls and replaying her words over and over in my mind.

"I'm a spy. Just like you."

The accusation hung in the air like smoke, choking me.

She thought I was a spy. She knew something, or suspected something, and that meant others might know too.

The thought made my skin crawl.

I pushed myself up from the bed, testing my weight on unsteady legs.

The dizziness from earlier had faded, leaving behind only exhaustion and a gnawing anxiety that wouldn't let me rest.

I needed to move. I needed to think.

But the maid's other words echoed just as loudly: "Be careful."

It had been a warning, clear and direct. Whatever game was being played in this house, I was already a piece on the board whether I wanted to be or not.

And pieces that moved carelessly got removed.

I walked to the window, pushing aside the heavy curtains to look out at the estate.

The sun was rising, painting everything in shades of gold and amber. It looked peaceful. Beautiful, even.

Nothing like the violence that had erupted on that balcony last night.

My fingers traced the edge of the bandage on my arm.

The bullet had only grazed me, but it could have been so much worse.

I could be dead right now. Matteo could be dead.

And part of me—a dark, guilty part I didn't want to acknowledge—knew that killing Matteo would be easy.

I had the access. I had the opportunity. He trusted me enough to be alone with me, vulnerable. One moment of distraction, one well-placed strike, and it would be over.

But I couldn't. Not yet.

Because nothing made sense. My aunt had worked for the Romano family—that much was becoming clear. But why? "What had she been doing for them? And why had she never mentioned it, never given me any hint that she was involved with people like this?"

The questions circled in my mind like vultures. My aunt had raised me, protected me, taught me everything I knew.

She had been the only family I had after my parents died. And now I was discovering that she had kept secrets from me. Not just secrets but big ones.

"What were they hiding?"

The thought consumed me. There was something in this house, some piece of information that would make everything click into place.

"I just had to find it."

I turned away from the window, my decision made.

I couldn't just sit in this room and wait for answers to come to me. If I wanted to understand what was happening, I needed to look for myself.

I changed out of the bloodstained dress from last night, pulling on a simple black jumper and trousers.

The movements pulled at my injured arm, but I gritted my teeth and pushed through the pain.

I couldn't afford to appear weak right now.

The corridors were quiet as I left my room. Most of the guards seemed to have been deployed elsewhere—probably still searching for any trace of the sniper.

The few I passed barely glanced at me, too focused on their own tasks to question where I was going.

I made my way downstairs, following the scent of coffee and fresh bread. The dining room was vast, with a table that could easily seat twenty people.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, catching the morning light and scattering it across the polished wood.

But the room was empty except for the food laid out on the sideboard.

I hesitated in the doorway, suddenly feeling exposed. "Where was everyone? Where was Matteo?"

A footstep behind me made me spin around. A bodyguard stood there, his expression neutral but watchful.

He was young, maybe mid-twenties, with a scar running through his left eyebrow.

"Can I help you, miss?" His tone was polite but distant.

"I was looking for breakfast," I managed, gesturing towards the dining room. "And I was wondering... where's Matteo?"

"The young master is out attending to business."

The young master. The formal title sounded strange, too respectful for someone I had been standing next to on a balcony just hours ago whilst bullets flew past us.

"When will he be back?"

The guard's expression didn't change. "I couldn't say, miss. Is there something you need?"

"Yes," I wanted to shout. "I need answers. I need to know what the hell is going on and why someone tried to kill me last night."

But I just shook my head. "No. Thank you."

He nodded and moved past me, continuing down the corridor. I watched him go, feeling frustration build in my chest.

I entered the dining room and filled a plate with food I didn't really want. The bread was warm, the coffee strong, but everything tasted like ash in my mouth.

I forced myself to eat anyway, knowing I needed the energy.

The silence of the room was suffocating. I had never felt more alone.

After finishing barely half my plate, I pushed it away and stood. Sitting still was impossible.

I left the dining room and began to walk. I told myself I was just exploring, just getting familiar with the house. But I knew what I was really doing.

I was looking for answers.

The estate was massive, much larger than I had realised.

I wandered through rooms filled with expensive furniture and artwork, each one more lavish than the last.

Libraries with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.

Sitting rooms with fireplaces big enough to stand in.

A music room with a grand piano that looked like it had never been played.

Everything was beautiful. Everything was pristine.

And everything felt hollow.

I climbed stairs and descended others, losing track of where I was in relation to my room.

The corridors seemed to multiply, branching off in directions I hadn't noticed before.

More than once I had to backtrack when I hit a dead end or found myself in a wing I didn't recognize.

The guards I passed gave me curious looks but said nothing. Apparently, wandering the house wasn't forbidden.

Or maybe they just assumed I was lost.

I was about to give up and try to find my way back when I noticed a corridor I hadn't explored yet.

It was narrower than the others, darker, with fewer windows.

I followed it, my footsteps echoing off the stone floor. The air grew cooler as I went deeper.

At the end of the corridor, a staircase led downward, disappearing into shadows.

A basement.

My heart began to beat faster. Basements were where people kept things they didn't want found. Storage, certainly, but also secrets. Documents, files, things that needed to be hidden away from prying eyes.

Things like answers.

I glanced over my shoulder. The corridor behind me was empty. No guards, no staff, no one to see where I was going.

I descended the stairs slowly, each step careful. The temperature dropped with each level, and the light grew dimmer.

By the time I reached the bottom, I could barely see.

A single door stood at the end of a short hallway. The door was heavy, wooden, with an old-fashioned handle. There was no keypad, no electronic lock.

Just a door that looked like it had been there for decades.

I reached for the handle, my fingers closing around the cold metal.

"That area is off limits."

The voice came from behind me, making me jump.

I spun around, my heart hammering in my chest.

Matteo stood at the top of the stairs, silhouetted against the light from the corridor above.