Z

Damian sent flowers the next morning.

White roses.

One hundred of them.

They arrived at Luca’s townhouse with no return address and a small ivory card.

COME HOME BEFORE SOMEBODY GETS HURT.

I read it twice.

Then dropped it into the fireplace.

Luca watched the flames consume Damian’s handwriting.

“He’s escalating.”

“He threatened me at the altar.”

“He threatened obedience at the altar. This is different.”

“How?”

“He’s afraid.”

I turned.

“Men like Damian become more dangerous when they’re afraid.”

“So do women like me.”

That earned a brief smile.

“Good.”

We had six days.

Six days until my mother’s trust activated.

Six days until Damian either obtained my signature or lost control of assets worth nearly two hundred million dollars.

Six days until my father’s mistakes stopped being financial and became fatal.

I should have hated Victor enough to leave him with Damian.

Part of me did.

Another part remembered being seven years old and sitting on his shoulders at Navy Pier.

People were complicated.

Even monsters had old photographs where they were smiling.

Saving my father didn’t mean forgiving him.

That distinction became important.

“We need leverage,” I said.

Luca stood across from me in the kitchen, drinking coffee.

“We have the files.”

“Not enough.”

“We have Matteo.”

“Also not enough.”

From the living room, Matteo shouted, “I can hear you.”

I ignored him.

“Damian thinks I’m scared.”

“You are.”

“Yes.”

Luca raised an eyebrow.

I continued.

“That’s useful.”

“How?”

“He knows the Isabella who stood at that altar. Quiet. Cornered. Worried about the foundation.”

“That Isabella ran.”

“He thinks panic made me run.”

“And?”

“I want him to keep thinking that.”

Luca slowly set down his cup.

“What are you planning?”

“I call him.”

“No.”

The word came too quickly.

I stared at him.

He noticed.

Then he corrected himself.

“I strongly recommend you don’t.”

“Better.”

He rubbed his jaw.

“You call Damian, he traces the phone.”

“Not if Adrian handles it.”

“He manipulates you.”

“Probably.”

“He threatens your father.”

“Definitely.”

“He’ll try to get you somewhere alone.”

“And I’ll say no.”

Luca stepped closer.

“You think this is a boardroom negotiation.”

“I think every criminal I’ve met depends on everyone else being afraid enough to stop thinking.”

His face changed.

“My mother taught me that.”

Luca was silent.

Then he called Adrian.

Twenty minutes later, Damian’s voice filled the kitchen.

“Isabella.”

No greeting.

No anger.

Just possession.

I hated how smoothly he said my name.

“Damian.”

“Did Moretti hurt you?”

I nearly laughed.

“No.”

“You can tell me.”

“He didn’t.”

“Is he listening?”

“Yes.”

A pause.

“Of course he is.”

Luca leaned against the counter.

I continued.

“You have my father.”

“I’m protecting Victor.”

“From what?”

“Consequences.”

“Interesting word for kidnapping.”

“He owes money.”

“So send him an invoice.”

Damian chuckled.

“There she is.”

“Who?”

“The woman I knew was underneath all that obedience.”

“You never knew me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

My skin crawled.

“What do you want?”

“My bride.”

“Try again.”

“The trust.”

At least he stopped pretending.

“What about it?”

“You don’t understand what Caroline built.”

“My mother seems to have understood you pretty well.”

The line went silent.

Good.

I had hurt him.

Not emotionally.

Strategically.

“You have the files,” he said.

“Yes.”

“And Matteo told you about the trust.”

“Yes.”

“Then Matteo has signed his death warrant.”

Across the room, Matteo rolled his eyes.

I almost admired his confidence.

“What happens if I refuse to sign?”

Damian sighed.

“Why discuss unpleasant things?”

“Because you locked me inside a chapel.”

“I was protecting our arrangement.”

“I was the arrangement.”

“You would have had everything.”

“I already had everything I wanted.”

“That foundation?”

“Yes.”

“Your mother is dead, Isabella.”

My hand tightened around the phone.

Damian continued.

“You keep worshipping her as if she was some saint. Caroline Bennett played games with dangerous men and eventually lost.”

Luca straightened.

My voice became very quiet.

“Did you kill her?”

No answer.

“Did my father?”

Still nothing.

“Who killed my mother, Damian?”

“You should ask Matteo.”

I looked at him.

His face had changed.

Damian knew.

Interesting.

“Meet me,” Damian said.

“No.”

“One hour. Public place.”

“No.”

“I’ll bring Victor.”

That hurt.

He knew it.

“Where?”

Luca shook his head.

I ignored him.

“The Palmer House. Main lobby. Noon.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Come without Luca.”

“No.”

“Isabella.”

“You don’t get to make rules anymore.”

I ended the call.

Luca stared at me.

“You’re not going.”

“I am.”

“He’ll have shooters.”

“In the Palmer House lobby at noon?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ll have yours.”

He shook his head.

“I don’t like this.”

“I didn’t like being sold at my own wedding.”

“That isn’t an argument.”

“It is to me.”

For several seconds we stared at each other.

Then Luca exhaled.

“If you do this, you wear a vest.”

“Fine.”

“You stay beside me.”

“No.”

His jaw tightened.

“I need Damian to believe I might negotiate.”

“He won’t if I’m standing next to you.”

“Exactly.”

Luca looked genuinely furious.

But unlike my father, he didn’t turn fury into an order.

Finally he said, “Twenty feet.”

“Thirty.”

“Twenty.”

“Twenty-five.”

“Done.”

Matteo began laughing.

We both looked at him.

“What?”

He shook his head.

“Nothing.”

“Say it.”

“You two negotiate like you’ve been married fifteen years.”

Luca’s stare could have cracked glass.

I walked away before anyone noticed my face warming.

At noon, the Palmer House lobby glittered with chandeliers and tourists.

I wore black trousers, flat shoes and body armor beneath a gray coat.

No wedding dress.

No veil.

No father gripping my wrist.

At exactly 12:03, Damian entered.

Alone.

My father wasn’t with him.

I felt Luca twenty-five feet behind me.

Damian approached with that same perfect smile.

“You look different.”

“I changed clothes.”

“You know what I mean.”

He stopped three feet away.

“Where’s my father?”

“Safe.”

“You promised to bring him.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Then we’re done.”

I turned.

“Your mother screamed my name before she died.”

I froze.

Every sound in the lobby disappeared.

I turned slowly.

Damian was smiling.

“What did you say?”

“I thought that might get your attention.”

My hands became ice.

“You were there.”

“I was twenty-four.”

“Were you there?”

“Yes.”

I heard movement behind me.

Luca.

I raised one hand.

Stop.

Damian noticed.

His smile widened.

“Look at that. He listens to you.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“Your mother discovered Victor was laundering money. She threatened to expose everyone.”

“Everyone including you?”

“My father.”

“What happened?”

“Victor begged her to stop.”

My pulse thundered.

“She refused.”

“And?”

Damian leaned closer.

“My father ordered her car sabotaged.”

The truth landed without mercy.

“Victor knew?”

Damian nodded.

“He did more than know.”

My throat closed.

“He gave them her route.”

For one second I was back at seventeen, wearing a black dress at my mother’s funeral while my father held my hand.

I wanted to scream.

Instead I asked:

“Why tell me?”

“Because you need to understand something.”

Damian’s eyes moved briefly toward Luca.

“Your father betrayed the woman he loved to save himself.”

Then his gaze returned to me.

“Luca Moretti will eventually do the same.”

I smiled.

Damian frowned.

“What’s funny?”

“You still think I ran from one man because I needed another one.”

His smile disappeared.

“I don’t.”

I stepped closer.

“That’s why you’re going to lose.”