Shadows at the table
544 Words
Chapter Four – Shadows at the Table
The Moretti mansion was too quiet. Servants moved with nervous steps, whispering in corners, their eyes darting toward the grand staircase as though expecting Isabella to sweep down in one of her tailored gowns.
But Isabella’s chair at the dining table remained empty.
Giovanni Moretti’s patience, already thin, snapped like brittle glass. He slammed his hand against the table, the sound echoing through the cavernous room. “Where is she?”
Elena shifted in her seat, pearls trembling against her collarbone. “Giovanni, lower your voice. The staff will talk—”
“The staff will talk because our daughter has vanished!” Giovanni thundered. His eyes burned, black and unyielding. “She hasn’t been seen for two nights. No calls. No explanations. And you care about gossip?”
Valentina, seated gracefully in a silk robe, swirled her wine as if this was the most entertaining breakfast she’d had in months. “Perhaps Isabella finally grew tired of playing the dutiful heiress.” Her lips curved into a slow smile. “She always did have a rebellious streak.”
Marco snorted from across the table, feet kicked up carelessly on another chair. “Good for her. Maybe she finally escaped this mausoleum.”
Giovanni’s glare cut across the room, silencing him. “She is a Moretti. She does not run. She does not hide. She does not shame this family with childish whims.”
Elena’s hands trembled around her teacup. “We can’t let people find out she’s missing. Imagine the rumors. The board, the press, the investors—”
But Valentina leaned forward, her voice honeyed and sly. “Or we can turn this to our advantage.”
Giovanni’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”
“If Isabella is determined to humiliate us,” Valentina said smoothly, “then we must remind her of her place. I happen to know Lorenzo Rizzi has been asking about her again.”
Elena’s face brightened, hope mingling with calculation. “The Rizzis are influential. A marriage to their son would repair any whispers.”
Marco groaned. “Lorenzo? That snake? He’d eat Isabella alive.”
Valentina ignored him, her gaze steady on Giovanni. “Think of it, Papà. Isabella tethered to a powerful family. No more vanishing acts. No more disobedience. You’d have her exactly where you want her.”
Giovanni said nothing for a long moment. Then his jaw tightened. “Find her. Quietly. I want her back under this roof before anyone suspects a thing. And if she resists…” His voice dropped like a blade. “She will learn the cost of defiance.”
Valentina’s smile deepened. She lifted her glass, the ruby wine catching the light like blood.
“To family,” she whispered.
The toast hung in the air like a curse.
Far away in her modest apartment, Isabella lay awake, unaware of the storm already gathering with her name at its center.
To be continued…
- Writer
