Isabella POV
I let the silence in the library stretch for a moment longer before turning my attention back to Sofia.
"I apologize for my cousin's... abrupt departure," Sofia murmured, her sharp eyes studying me with a newfound intensity.
I offered a tight, graceful smile. "It's quite alright. However, it reminds me that Angelo and I have pending matters regarding the De Luca asset transfers in our betrothal contract." I paused, letting a shadow of proper concern cross my face. "I need to speak with him immediately, but it would be highly inappropriate for me to enter his private office alone, especially during a memorial. Out of rispetto(respect) for your family's protocol, could you perhaps ask Nonna Caterina to assign two of her trusted ladies to accompany me? Just to serve as witnesses and prevent any... misunderstandings."
Sofia nodded approvingly, clearly appreciating my adherence to tradition. "A wise and respectful request, Isabella. Wait here."
Twenty minutes later, I was walking down the quiet, carpeted corridor of the East Wing, flanked by Sofia and two of Nonna Caterina's most senior housekeepers, Maria and Francesca.
As we approached Angelo's heavy oak door, his Associate, Sal, paled drastically. "Miss De Luca! Ladies!" Sal stammered, his voice unnaturally loud as he stepped in front of the door. "Mr. Moretti is on a highly confidential conference call—"
He didn't need to finish. Through the thick wood, Genevieve Russo's grating, greedy laugh echoed clearly.
"Oh, baby," she purred, her voice muffled but unmistakable. "Once we get our hands on the De Luca shipping routes, the entire Chicago bootlegging operation is ours."
Maria and Francesca exchanged a dark, horrified look. Then came Angelo's arrogant reply.
"Exactly. That scarred bitch is nothing but a stepping stone. Damien thinks he runs everything, but he'll soon find out that with the De Luca wealth behind me, I am the true future of the Moretti family."
The trap snapped shut perfectly.
I let out a choked gasp, my hand flying to my mouth. I forced tears to well in my eyes, staring at the door with a mask of absolute, shattered devastation.
"Isabella..." Sofia whispered, her face pale with shock.
I didn't wait. I turned on my heel and fled down the corridor, a perfectly executed picture of a brokenhearted maiden unable to bear the betrayal. Inside, my blood sang with cold, vicious triumph.
I burst into the main hall, ignoring the stares of the mourners, and threw myself directly into the arms of my grandmother, Nonna Sofia De Luca.
"Nonna!" I cried, my voice trembling loud enough to silence the entire room. "I will not do it! A daughter of De Luca will never marry a traitor who plots to steal our legacy while bedding a whore!"
The hall went dead silent. The string quartet stopped abruptly. Nonna Sofia's eyes turned as cold as a Sicilian winter. She didn't speak, but her lethal gaze locked onto Nonna Caterina Moretti. The unspoken pressure in the room was suffocating.
Maria and Francesca hurried in moments later, looking breathless and grim. Under Nonna Caterina's furious command, they repeated every treasonous word they had heard outside the office.
The matriarch's face turned a mottled red. Angelo's father, Donatello Moretti, dropped to his knees on the marble floor in immediate, terrified submission.
His mother, Donna Eleonora, however, panicked. "It's a lie!" she shrieked, pointing a trembling finger. "That tramp seduced my boy! He didn't mean—"
"Silence, Eleonora!" Nonna Caterina roared, her voice cracking like a whip across the cavernous room. "Your son has stained the Moretti name with his disonore(dishonor)!"
She turned to the heavily armed Soldiers standing by the doors, her eyes blazing with a ruthless, unforgiving light.
"Bring Angelo and that woman to me. Now."
