The name hit me like a physical blow.
I pressed myself harder against the concrete pillar, my mind racing. So Isabella hadn't just been making threats at the restaurant. She'd actually hired someone to photograph me, to prove she could reach me even on Rafael's property.
But why? What was she trying to accomplish?
"Isabella," Rafael repeated the name, and I could hear the fury building in his voice. "Tell me exactly what she said to you."
"She... she said she wanted to send someone a message," the photographer stammered. "Said she needed proof that certain people weren't as protected as they thought they were."
"What else?"
"That was it, I swear. She paid me five thousand dollars to take pictures of your wife in the garden and send them to a number she gave me. I didn't ask questions
