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ISABELLA’S POV

The air in Luca’s office was cold, even though the space itself was spotless and luxurious. The sharp scent of leather and polished wood filled my nose as I ran my fingers over the edges of the papers on his desk.  

I wasn’t supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to be doing this.  

But after everything Luca had done to me—trapping me in this marriage, poisoning me just to teach me a lesson—I had no choice.  

I needed something. Something to fight back with.  I had woken very early, searching through the rooms weary of each cctv I came across with. I spent the rest of last night finding their blind spot but even now this seemed too easy.

I felt as though he was watching, calmly waiting for me tk be done, enjoying making a fool of myself.

My hands trembled as I flipped through the files, my heart racing. Most of it looked like routine business transactions, but I knew better. Luca didn’t run an empire on “routine.”  

Then I found it.  

A small black notebook hidden under a pile of invoices. I opened it, and my eyes widened. Names. Dates. Money. These weren’t just numbers—this was the ugly truth behind Luca’s empire.  

“Got you,” I whispered to myself, clutching the notebook like a lifeline.  

But before I could make my escape, the door to the office clicked shut behind me.  

“What do you think you’re doing?”  

I froze at the sound of the voice. Deep, firm, and filled with disbelief. My stomach dropped as I turned around, clutching the notebook to my chest.  

And then I saw him.  

Antonio.  

He looked different, older, sharper than I remembered. His brown eyes—once warm and full of laughter—were now darker, harder, but still achingly familiar. His broad shoulders filled the doorway, and I noticed the scar peeking out from under his collar.  

For a moment, the world stopped.  

“Antonio?” I breathed, my voice barely a whisper.  

His expression flickered with shock, his mouth opening as if to say something but then closing again. Finally, he managed, “Isabella... what the hell are you doing here?”  

I couldn’t answer. My throat tightened as a flood of memories rushed back—the boy who used to sneak me out of the house at night, the boy who promised to stay by my side forever, the boy who disappeared without a word.  

“What am I doing here?” I finally said, my voice trembling. “What are you doing here? You disappeared, Antonio. I thought you were dead.”  

He stepped forward, his hand running through his hair. “It’s complicated.”  

“Complicated?” I snapped, my anger rising now. “You vanished, and now I find you working for Luca Ricci? Do you have any idea what kind of man he is?”  

His jaw tightened. “I know exactly what kind of man he is.”  

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The weight of everything unsaid hung between us like a wall.  

“What happened to you?” I asked softly. “Why did you leave?”  

Antonio’s eyes softened, and for the briefest moment, he looked like the boy I used to know. “Your father happened,” he said, his voice low.  

“What?”  

“I didn’t leave because I wanted to, Isabella. Your father made me disappear. He didn’t think I was good enough for you. Said I wasn’t worth the trouble.”  

I staggered back, the notebook slipping slightly from my grasp. “No... he wouldn’t...”  

“He did,” Antonio said firmly. “One night, his men came for me. They told me to leave and never come back. I tried to fight, but... it didn’t matter. They had power. I didn’t.”  

My heart broke as I stared at him. The pain in his voice was real, raw, and it cut deeper than any of Luca’s threats.  

“I searched for you,” he continued, his voice softer now. “But by the time I found my footing again, you were gone. And then... Luca found me. He saved my life.”  

“Saved you?” I asked, incredulous.  

He nodded. “I owed him everything. Still do.”  

The notebook in my hands suddenly felt heavier. Antonio had been ripped from my life because of my father, only to end up serving the man I hated most.  

“This is insane,” I said, shaking my head. “All of it.”  

“What are you doing with that?” he asked, nodding to the notebook. His voice was sharp again, the softness gone.  

I stepped back, clutching it tighter. “What do you think? I’m trying to find a way out of this nightmare.”  

Antonio’s expression darkened. “You think stealing from Luca is the answer? You don’t know what he’ll do to you if he finds out.”  

“I don’t care,” I snapped. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”  

His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. His touch sent a jolt through me—familiar, yet foreign.  

“You’ll get yourself killed,” he said, his voice low and urgent.  

“Then help me,” I shot back, my voice cracking.  

Antonio hesitated, his grip loosening slightly. His eyes searched mine, and I saw the conflict there—the war between his loyalty to Luca and whatever was left of what we used to be.  

“I can’t,” he whispered.  

“Yes, you can,” I said, stepping closer. “You know this isn’t right, Antonio. You know who Luca is, what he’s done. Please.”  

Before he could answer, the door swung open.  

Luca’s icy gaze swept over the room, landing first on Antonio, then on me, then finally on the disorganized shelf of his.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, his voice calm but laced with threat..  

Antonio moved instantly, stepping between me and Luca.  

“She wasn’t doing anything,” he said quickly. “I was the one going through your files.”  

My breath caught as Luca’s eyes narrowed. He stared at Antonio for a long moment, his expression unreadable.  

“Is that so?” he said finally.  

“Yes,” Antonio said firmly. “I thought there might be something in the records that could explain the delay in the last shipment.”  

Luca stepped closer, his gaze piercing. “I didn’t ask you to look through my files.”  

“I know,” Antonio said, holding his ground. “But I thought it might help.”  

The silence was suffocating. I could feel the tension crackling in the air, each second stretching longer than the last.  

Luca finally turned to me. “Get out Isabella,” he said, his voice soft but dangerous.  

I didn’t move.  

“Now,” he repeated, his tone sharp enough to make me flinch.  

Reluctantly, I turned and left the room, the notebook still hidden under my sleeve. My heart pounded as I slipped down the hall, my mind racing.  

Antonio had lied for me. He’d protected me. But what would it cost him? Did he still love me?.

As I sat alone in my room, the notebook resting in my lap, a single thought consumed me: Antonio looked different, he may helped me, and maybe we still had a spark, I had seen the longing look in his eyes, I still loved him but Luca didn’t trust anyone—not even Antonio. And now, neither could I.