Bianca paced about the length of the lavish bedroom, the sound from her boot was barely audible because of the plush Persian rug. “Vittorio Morretti’s daughter,” she said as she laughed a little. That truth pressed on her chest and felt like a Brand. “This contradicts everything I know and believe in.” She murmured.
Isabella lay on the bed, watching her pace about with a smirk. “You’re overthinking this sorellina” she drawled from the bed, twirling a strand of jet-black hair around her finger, that infuriating smirk still playing on her lips.
“Overthinking you say, is that what you really want to describe this as?” She snarled as she stopped walking and faced Isabella directly. “I've been lied to my whole life… by the people I loved the most. And in the end, I still got betrayed by the
