Chapter1
The moment Isabella stepped out of the restaurant, she knew something was wrong. Her father had promised to call her after his meeting. That was three hours ago. Now his phone was off, and the silence felt like a hand squeezing her throat.
She pulled out her phone and dialed his number again. It rang once. Twice. Then voicemail. Her chest tightened. Antonio never switched off his phone. Never. She shoved the phone back into her bag and walked faster into the cold Roman night.
The streets were busy, but Isabella did not notice. Her mind was racing. The last message he sent was at 5:42 p.m.: Don't stay late. I'll be home before you arrive. But it was now past eight, and there was no sign of him. No message. No call. Nothing.
By the time she reached the Romano residence, her hands were cold despite the warmth of her jacket. She pushed open the gate and hurried toward the house. The living-room lights were on. A small hope flickered in her chest. Maybe he was home. Maybe she had been worrying for nothing.
She unlocked the door and stepped inside. "Dad?" she called. No answer.
The house was too quiet. Antonio's shoes were not by the entrance where they usually were. Her stomach dropped. She checked her phone again. Still nothing. He should have been home by now.
"Young Lady, you're finally back."
Isabella turned, and she saw her stepmother Teresa, sitting on the sofa with her legs crossed, her eyes on her phone. She did not look up.
"Good evening, Ma," Isabella said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Where is Dad?"
Teresa's thumb stopped moving across the screen. For a long moment, she said nothing. Then she spoke without looking up. "He isn't back yet."
Isabella's chest tightened. "He isn't back? But he told me he wouldn't be late tonight."
Teresa shrugged. "Then perhaps he changed his mind. He is not a child after all."
Her usual careless tone hit Isabella so hard it felt like a slap, and she asked if her father had called her.
Teresa finally raised her eyes from the phone, and for the first time since Isabella walked in, she looked directly at her. Her gaze was cold and unwelcoming. "Why are you asking so many questions?" she asked, her voice sharp and clipped.
"Because he's not answering his phone," Isabella said. "And that's not like him."
Teresa's lips curved into a humourless smile. "Your father is a grown man, Isabella. He doesn't need you checking on him like a child."
Isabella swallowed hard and said, " I know, but it's just that something doesn't feel right."
Teresa stared at her for a long moment. Then she looked away. The silence between them grew heavy.
Before Isabella could say more, Teresa's phone buzzed. Teresa glanced at the screen. At first, her face showed nothing. Then her eyes widened slightly. Her hand went still. The colour drained from her cheeks.
"Ma?" Isabella called.
Teresa did not answer. She quickly locked the phone and lowered it to her lap. "I'm fine," she said, but her voice was hollow.
"But your facial expression doesn't look fine," Isabella said.
Teresa's jaw tightened, and she turned her face away. "I said I'm fine."
The phone buzzed again. Teresa flinched. She looked down at the screen, and this time, Isabella saw raw fear in her eyes. "You can't hide forever, Teresa. Where is my money?" Teresa's hands began to tremble as she stared at the words, her face draining of colour. She locked the phone and stood up quickly. Her eyes darted toward the front door, then the windows.
"Ma, are you sure everything is fine?" Isabella asked, her face full of concern.
Teresa's face turned pale, and she replied to her sharply. "Yes."
"But I saw your face. You're shaking."
Teresa's expression hardened. "Stay out of my business, you little rat."
She shoved the phone into her pocket and walked toward the hallway. Isabella stood frozen. Something was very wrong. Teresa was afraid. And whatever she was afraid of was connected to those messages.
Isabella turned back toward the front door. Her father's absence now felt dangerous. The house was silent, but it was the wrong kind of silence. Even the ticking of the clock sounded too loud. She checked the time. 8:42 p.m. She called Antonio again. It rang once. Twice. Three times. No answer. Her hands were shaking now. He had never gone this long without calling her. Never.
But exhaustion was pulling at her. She climbed the stairs slowly. After changing into her nightwear, she lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. Sleep would not come. Teresa's terrified face kept flashing in her mind. And her father's silence echoed in her chest like a warning.
Eventually, her eyes grew heavy, and she drifted into a restless sleep, the weight of the night pressing down on her like a dark cloud.
Upstairs, Teresa sat on the edge of her bed, her phone still clutched in her hand, her knuckles white. She stared at the screen again, and the words burned into her mind like fire. "You can't hide forever, Teresa. Where is my money?" Her chest tightened as a cold wave of fear washed over her. Each breath came shallow and uneven. This was not just a warning anymore. It was a promise. And the worst part was that she had no way out.
She swallowed hard. How was she supposed to raise that kind of money? Her thoughts raced. There was no one to turn to. Nothing to sell. No way out.
She pressed a trembling hand to her forehead. She couldn't let Isabella find out. She couldn't let Antonio find out. If they discovered the truth, everything would fall apart.
And now Antonio was not answering his phone. Teresa's stomach turned violently. A cold wave of dread swept over her. Something had happened. She could feel it in her bones. Her fingers tightened around the phone, and for the first time in years, she had no idea how to save herself.
