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Leonardo
Loud, breathless groans echoed through the private suite, mixing with the rhythmic sound of dark, aggressive thrusting.
I gripped her from behind without slowing my pace, fisting my hand in her hair while I slammed fast into her body. I didn't care about anything but the release, and once it was over, I pulled away immediately. I growled and stepped back, refusing to let any woman hook me with a fake pregnancy and false promises.
Stepping out of bed completely unfazed by her disheveled appearance, I picked up my phone and transferred a sum of money to her account. After all, that is all they want: manipulative gold diggers who only care about the money. I looked toward the bed with an icy glare and spoke coldly, "I have transferred the money. Get out before I come back."
I strolled into the bathroom to wash away the night. As I turned on the shower, a bitter memory flashed into my mind: the heavy scent of rose flowers and lilac, and the whispering of wedding guests looking at me as I stood by the altar like a stupid idiot. I was the fool in the church, waiting for Bianca—the woman who never showed up. She stole millions from me and abandoned me at the altar without a second thought.
I walked out of the bathroom, and she was still there, getting ready. I pushed her out of the room and signaled one of my men to throw her out. I did not care if she was half-naked, ready to face the world; I just told her to get out immediately. She cursed me loudly as the door shut, but I cared less about the curse and started getting ready to face the day.
I believe all women are manipulative and only care about money. After putting on my suit, I walked out of the room, prepared for the corporate world. I walked straight into my exclusive office, adjusting my perfect bespoke suit, completely switching into my cold CEO mode. I hate clumsiness and unprofessional ethics in my company.
Luca, my best friend, right-hand man, and loyal, trusted partner, entered my office and dropped off the company financial reports for me to review.
Luca spoke with a level voice, "Fiamma is downstairs in the lobby demanding a meeting with you."
I paused what I was doing and looked at Luca, saying, "This is a place of business. I do not have time for family drama. Tell her I am busy and can’t talk."
Luca walked out and headed to the lobby, where Fiamma stood wearing stunning designer sunglasses and a beautiful velvet gown. Luca stepped forward and said, "You will have to leave if your brother is busy."
Fiamma frowned and sighed. "Can't you talk some sense into my brother and tell him to stop being so cold and distant? I have been calling him, but he is not answering. Ask him to call me back, please."
She was about to say more when the sudden interruption of her phone ringing cut her short.
She turned and began walking out of the lobby, heading toward the street. I could not tell whom she was talking to, but a bright smile broke across her face the exact second she answered the call.
Isabella
With a bright smile, I stopped by the jewelry shop to get Julian, my boyfriend of four years, his dream wristwatch for our anniversary. I was super happy and could not wait to see his excitement.
I left work early to surprise him, hailed a taxi, and drove to his place. Deciding to surprise him even more, I used my spare key. The moment I stepped inside, a strange feeling hit me. Hearing loud moaning and heavy breathing from his bedroom, my heart skipped a beat.
I rushed inside and saw him taking a girl from behind, driving into her fast and hard. I screamed, "Julian!"
He pulled out immediately. I was completely paralyzed with shock to see my jealous stepsister, Chloe. Instantly filled with agonizing pain, I watched Chloe stand up with a cruel smirk, showing no remorse. Julian scrambled up, saying he was bored with me and needed someone to spice things up. I was shattered. Those two bastards showed no regret.
"Why did you do this to me?" I cried out. "After everything we have been through, why repay me this way?"
Julian laughed harshly. "I never forced you to do anything. It is Chloe I love, so move on." Chloe giggled and sneered, "Stop acting like a desperate bitch. Get out."
I ran out sobbing as the sky opened up, raining heavily. I ran to the park, regretting not listening to my best friend, Fiamma. Sitting on a park bench, I called her with trembling fingers, sobbing as I explained everything.
Fiamma went completely feral, cursing Julian. "I always knew that guy was no good, Bella! He is a worthless opportunist who sucked you dry while he was too lazy to get a real job!" I cried harder as her words sank in. "Stop crying for that sick bastard; he is not worth a single tear," Fiamma demanded fiercely. "I am booking a flight to New York to help personally."
I sniffled and shook my head. "No, Fiamma. I am completely done. I am relocating far away from those bastards. I am moving back to Italy for good."
The anger vanished from her voice, replaced by massive excitement. "Yes, girl, come home! I am going to spoil you so much and make you forget about them quicker than you can imagine, bestie!"
"I just need a fresh start," I said, before hanging up.
When the rain stopped, I hailed a taxi to my father's house. I rushed inside, packed every single thing I owned into my suitcases, and took a long bath to wash away the betrayal. I dressed in clean clothes and headed straight for the airport.
Downstairs, my stepmother, Victoria, looked at me with absolute disgust. "So you have finally decided to leave this house since you know you are not wanted here," she sneered maliciously.
I ignored her completely, keeping my head high. Victoria shrieked in anger to my father, "You see how mannerless she is? She has no respect at all!" My father finally looked up. "Isabella, where exactly do you think you are going?" he asked flatly.
I paused at the door. "Somewhere better than this house. Somewhere where I am actually loved and valued," I replied coldly. He just stared, saying absolutely nothing to defend me or ask me to stay. My stepmother kept ranting loudly behind him, but I turned my back, walked out, and climbed into a waiting taxi.
At JFK terminal, I went straight to the ticketing counter and booked a seat on the very next flight to Italy, paying with the last of my savings.
After checking in, I sat in the waiting section, staring out the large glass windows at the airplanes on the tarmac. All men are sick bastards, and love is just a pathetic illusion men use to deceive and manipulate women. I am completely done with love, I vowed to myself as the boarding announcement echoed. I am never le
tting a man near my heart again.
Isabella"He's jealous," I said, holding both of Nonna Sophia's hands in mine, forcing my voice to stay steady even as the lie sat heavy on my tongue. "Marcelo has spent his whole life watching Leonardo build something he could never have. A company. A family that still loves him despite everything. Now a wife who chose him. Of course he wants to poison it. It's the only weapon he has left."She studied my face for a long moment, the way she used to when I came home from school with a story that didn't quite add up. I made myself hold her gaze."I love him, Nonna," I said, and strangely, that part didn't feel like a lie at all anymore. "The contract is just paper now. What's underneath it is real."Her shoulders finally softened, the worry easing out of the lines around her eyes, and she pulled me into a hug that smelled like lavender soap and warm bread. "Then don't let that bitter old man near your wedding," she murmured against my hair. "
IsabellaSecurity had Julian out of the ballroom within ninety seconds, but I felt his eyes on the ring long after the doors closed behind him. Leonardo never let go of my hand, not once, not even when Marcelo crossed the room a moment later with a smile so tight it looked painful, offering congratulations that sounded like a threat wearing a nice suit. I smiled back and said thank you and didn't believe a word coming out of either of our mouths.LeonardoI didn't wait until morning.By the time we got home from the gala, I had already called the one man in Milan who owed me a favor big enough to open doors that should have stayed shut: a private investigator who used to work fraud cases for the finance ministry before he decided my money was better than his pension. I gave him one name. Marcus. I told him I wanted everything, every account, every phone record, every meeting from the last six months, and I wanted it before I had to look Luca
IsabellaThe photo was everywhere by the time I woke up. Julian's hand around my wrist, my face caught mid flinch, captioned in three different languages with some version of the same lie: *Moretti bride caught with mystery man.*I sat on the edge of the bed with my phone shaking in my hands until Leonardo's assistant knocked on the door and told me not to check my phone again for the rest of the day. It turned out to be good advice, because by that evening the story had simply stopped existing. Not buried. Erased. Three outlets that ran it issued quiet corrections. A gossip page that refused to take it down found its advertising pulled within hours. Leonardo never mentioned it to me directly. He didn't need to. I understood exactly what kind of man could make an entire news cycle disappear before dinner, and it frightened me a little how easily he'd done it.Three days later, he told me to be ready by seven.I wore emerald green that night,
LeonardoThe photograph was already everywhere by the time Matthew slid his tablet across my desk.I recognized the street before I recognized the man. The ivy on the restaurant wall near the Duomo, the candles flickering behind old glass windows, the awning I had personally approved for a sponsorship shoot only weeks before, and in the middle of it, Isabella, her hand caught inside another man's grip, her face turned up toward his like she was listening to something that mattered. The caption underneath, already written by some gossip page with more speed than sense, called him her "mystery man." I knew exactly who he was before Matthew even said the name.Something cold moved through my chest, sharp enough that I had to set the tablet down before my hand betrayed how tight my grip had gotten. Not because I cared who touched her. This was a contract, nothing more, a signature on a page that kept my father's company out of Marcelo's hands. But that
IsabellaThree days had passed since I told Leonardo about the parking garage, and he hadn't said a single word about it since.That was how I knew it mattered. Leonardo didn't sit on things that didn't matter. He'd gone quiet in that particular way of his, the one where his eyes tracked a room like he was cataloguing every exit, and Matthew had been in and out of his office so often that his assistant started keeping a fresh pot of coffee ready just for him. Luca's badge still didn't work on any door past the lobby. Nobody said Marcus's name out loud, but I caught it once, folded into a hushed conversation between Leonardo and Matthew that stopped the second they noticed me in the doorway.I told myself it wasn't my job to chase it any further than I already had. I had my own work piling up: press releases nobody wanted to sign off on, a company gala in three weeks that Fiamma had thrown herself into planning with far too much enthusiasm, and a stack of vendor contracts that needed a
IsabellaMy first morning in Leonardo's house began with a silence so complete it felt like a held breath.No creak of Nonna's old floorboards. No smell of coffee drifting up from the kitchen before I'd even opened my eyes. Just cold marble under my bare feet and a bedroom the size of my grandmother's entire ground floor, the sheets so crisp they still smelled faintly of starch instead of home.I sat up slowly, pulling the duvet around my shoulders, and looked at the empty side of the bed. He hadn't slept there. Of course he hadn't. There were seven bedrooms in this house and he'd chosen the one at the opposite end of the hallway, as if putting distance between us made the marriage certificate on Matthew's desk any less real.Fiamma's voice was still rattling around in my skull from the night before, warm and delighted and utterly unaware of what she'd actually heard. *Sorry, Fiamma, I'm swamped.* And underneath it, his voice, low, saying my name once before I'd ended the call too fast







