The days that followed were worse than the fire. At least flames were honest in their destruction.
Isabella was not.
She moved through the Moretti estate like a shadow in silk, her laughter echoing in every corridor, her perfume clinging to Damian’s suits, his office, even the very air Adriana breathed.
Adriana tried to avoid her, tried to hold her head high. But Isabella never allowed her peace. Wherever Adriana went, she was there — smiling too sweetly, her words dripping like poisoned honey.
---
It began over breakfast.
Adriana sat at the long oak table, pushing food around her plate. Damian hadn’t come down yet; he’d been locked in meetings since dawn, trying to rebuild control over the fractured Moretti empire.
Isabella entered like she owned the house, sliding into the seat op
