Chapter 4

Every major gossip account was running the same story, using the same hashtags, as if someone had handed them all a unified script.

I knew someone had.

Then I saw Serena's statement. Posted an hour ago, already at fifty thousand likes.

"I know many of you are angry on my behalf, but please don't attack Isabella Romano. She's clearly still hurting from the breakup. Dante and I have known each other our entire lives, and sometimes that's hard for outsiders to understand. She loved him—that's not a crime. Let's show compassion, not cruelty."

Perfect. Magnanimous. Merciful.

She'd wrapped herself in a halo and handed out the knives, letting every comment section do her dirty work.

"Serena is so classy"

"Isabella should be ashamed of herself"

"Imagine being this pathetic over a man"

I turned off the screen. My fingers were ice-cold, the tips numb.

That was when the door opened. Dante was back.

He walked in, spotted the suitcase at my feet, and stopped short. His expression darkened, and he closed the distance in quick strides.

"Where do you think you're going, Bella?"

"I'd rather not give people more ammunition to say I'm stalking you, Godfather." I looked at him coldly. "I accept the breakup. Best wishes to you and Serena—may you last forever."

He studied me for a moment. Then he reached into the inner pocket of his coat, pulled out a bullet, and set it on the coffee table. The brass casing caught the lamplight in a cold glint, the Valentino family's "V" insignia engraved into the base.

"That reporter who kept asking questions—" Dante's voice dropped low. "He won't be asking any more."

My pupils contracted sharply. "What do you mean?"

"I mean he's in the East River." He said it offhandedly, undoing his cufflinks as though discussing dinner plans. "Bella, you know how it is. That was the price he had to pay."

Fear ran through me like ice water, flooding every vein. "You killed someone over that?"

"I was protecting what's mine." He seized my chin in one swift motion, forcing me to look at him. "You will always be mine, Bella. You're not going anywhere."

I tried to wrench free. He only gripped tighter. His tone turned soft, coaxing—like soothing a disobedient child. But his eyes sent a chill down my spine.

"So tell me—where were you planning to go, sweetheart?"

"My mother arranged a blind date for me." I clenched my jaw and held his gaze, watching his pupils contract. "I'm going back to Los Angeles to meet a man who actually wants to marry me."

His fingers dug into my jaw. "Say that again."

"You heard me."

"You think I'd let you leave?" His voice sank, laced with lethal authority. "You think I'd let another man touch you?"

"You don't get a vote—"

"Any man you want to marry, I can make him disappear." He leaned closer, his breath ghosting across my face. "Before you've even memorized his name, I can erase him from the face of the earth. Do you understand me?"

My heart hammered against my ribs. "Dante—"

"This city answers to me. The ports, the shipping lanes, the judges, the police. One phone call is all it takes, Bella. You know that."

"You can't—"

"I can do whatever I want." His thumb traced my lower lip, slow and deliberate, like outlining something that belonged to him. "And right now, I want you to stay exactly where you are."

He kissed me.

Brutal, forceful, punishing—as if he meant to crush me into his bones.

I shoved at his chest, but he didn't budge. He just kept kissing me, like he was branding me with it, trying to make me forget everything else.

When he finally released me, I tasted blood.

"Tomorrow," he said, wiping the blood from the corner of my lip with his thumb, the gesture almost tender, "I'll come by. We'll talk this through properly."

"There's nothing to talk about—"

"Serena." He cut me off. "I'll give you an explanation about Serena."

"It's too late—"

"It's too late when I say it's too late." He stepped back and straightened his cuffs. "Get some rest, darling. You look exhausted."

The endearment fell from his mouth as cold as that bullet on the table.

He reached the door and paused, glancing back at me one last time.

"Don't make me come looking for you, Bella. If I have to hunt you down, you won't like what happens next."

The door closed behind him.

I stood there, lips still swollen, the taste of blood lingering on my tongue.

My legs gave out, and I slid down against the edge of the bed until I was sitting on the floor. My hands were shaking—not from the cold, but because I had finally seen the truth.

I wasn't his girlfriend. I wasn't even his mistress.

I was his possession. Something he kept locked in a safe—treated gently as long as it stayed inside.

The moment I tried to leave, he would kill. And if necessary, that included me.

Before I even realized I was reaching for it, the phone was already in my hand.

I called my mother.

She picked up on the first ring. "Bella? Sweetheart, are you all right?"

"Mom." My voice cracked. "I need your help."

"What happened?"

"I need to get out of New York. Tonight, if possible. But Dante—he won't let me go. He'll track my credit cards, my phone. He'll know everywhere I go."

Silence on the other end.

"Mom?"

"There is a way." Her voice went very quiet, each word carefully measured. "But it means calling on the family's power—something I always hoped you'd never have to use."

"What power?"

"I'll contact Lorenzo," she said at last. "He can get you out clean, no trace. But Isabella—once you play that card, there's no going back. You'll become part of that world. Do you understand?"

"Who's Lorenzo?"

"Your brother." She exhaled slowly. "Your half-brother."

"My father's—"

"Your birth father was Antonio Bianchi. He died when you were two. On his deathbed, he made Lorenzo swear an oath—to protect you, whenever you needed it."

Antonio Bianchi.

The name echoed through my mind. The Bianchi family. One of the Five Families of New York, every bit as powerful as the Valentinos.

"You're saying I'm—"

"Antonio's daughter, yes." My mother's voice softened. "We kept you away from that life. Changed your name, hid you. But if Dante Valentino won't let go… Lorenzo can get you out."

"Then call him, Mom." I didn't hesitate. "Whatever it takes to get me out of here."

"Are you sure?"

"Mom, he threatened to kill anyone I want to be with. He murdered a reporter today just for asking questions. He's insane."

"All right." Every trace of hesitation vanished from her voice. "Keep yourself safe, baby. I'll contact Lorenzo right away."

"I'll take care of everything. Bella—I love you. We're going to get you out."

The line went dead.

I set the phone down and looked around the living room. The apartment that had once felt warm now seemed terrifyingly cold and still.

The bullet was still on the coffee table. Under the lamplight, the "V" insignia gleamed quietly.

I tore my gaze away, wrapped my arms around myself, and slowly curled into the corner of the couch.

That was when a knock came at the door, and I flinched before I could stop myself.