Mine Through Lies

(part -B)

Salvatore pulled out the chair for her first.Isabella sat carefully, trying not to put pressure on her healing ribs. The table between them was simple but elegant—fresh fruit, warm pastries, tea, and the soft scent flowers carried by the morning air.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke.The garden was quiet except for the distant sound of birds and the faint rustle of leaves above them.

Salvatore poured tea into her cup.His movements were controlled, precise.Even something as simple as pouring tea looked deliberate in his hands.When he finally looked at her, his attention settled completely on her face.

Not on the dress.

Not on the garden.

On her.

As if every expression mattered.

As if he was trying to memorize her all over again.

There’s something I wanted to ask you,” Salvatore said softly.

Isabella looked at him curiously.

“I know everything feels unfamiliar right now,” he continued, his voice patient and gentle. “Your memories are gone. Our life together must feel like a story someone else told you.”

She lowered her eyes.

Sometimes even her own reflection felt like a stranger.

“I thought…” He paused, watching her carefully. “Maybe we could start again.”

She looked up at him.

“A new beginning,” he said. “Not because I want to erase the past, but because I don’t want you to feel trapped by memories you can’t reach.”

The words settled deep inside her.

Thoughtful.

Understanding.

Easy to believe.

Isabella’s fingers unconsciously touched the ring on her hand.

“I don’t remember what I was like before,” she whispered. “I don’t remember how much I loved you… or how much you loved me.”

Salvatore said nothing.

He let the silence work for him.

After a moment, a small uncertain smile appeared on her lips.

“But if you’re still standing beside me after everything that happened…” Her voice softened. “Then maybe this is something bigger than memory.”

He watched her carefully.

Her eyes grew warmer.

“Maybe you came into my life because of something written long before this life,” she said shyly. “Maybe you’re the reward for something I did in a previous birth.”

For the first time that morning, his expression changed.

Not dramatically.

Just enough for the coldness in his eyes to ease for a second.

Isabella laughed softly, embarrassed by her own words.

“It sounds foolish, doesn’t it?”

“No,” he said quietly.

It sounded dangerous.

But he would never say that aloud.

They ate breakfast together while the garden slowly filled with sunlight.with every passing minute Salvatore watched her more closely.Not in the way a husband admired his wife.In the way a man watched something becoming important before he was ready to admit it.

When she looked around the garden with wonder, he noticed that too.His attention kept returning to her face as if the rest of the world had faded into the background.

After a while, she asked softly, “Did I always like flowers this much?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “You used to fill the house with them.”

A lie.

But he spoke it so calmly that it sounded like a memory.

Her smile widened.

“I’m glad at least that part of me seems familiar.”

Salvatore watched the smile for a second longer than he should have.

Then she asked, “What was I like with you?”

The question was simple.

The answer was not.

He set down his cup.

“You laughed often,” he said smoothly. “Especially when we were alone.”

Another lie.

She asked about the mansion, about the library, about whether she liked music, whether she preferred mornings or nights, whether she had a favorite place in the house.

Salvatore answered each one with calm, effortless lies.

And this time, she believed him.

He noticed the difference immediately.The hesitation in her eyes was fading.Trust was beginning to take root.Exactly as he had planned.And yet, when she smiled at him across the table, he found himself returning the smile without thinking.

Softer than usual.

Less controlled.

A phone call interrupted the moment.

Salvatore glanced at the screen and stood.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I need to take this.”

He stepped away, speaking in a low voice.

Isabella watched him from the table.

Even from a distance, he carried authority like a second skin.

When he returned, his expression had become more guarded.

“I have to leave for a few hours. Something urgent came up.”

He offered her his hand.

“Come. I’ll walk you back.”

His hand rested lightly against her waist, as though the gesture belonged to them.

“Did you enjoy everything?” he asked.

“More than you know.”

She looked up at him with honest gratitude.

“Thank you for trying so hard.”

For a second, Salvatore held her gaze in silence.

“I’ll return before evening,” he said. “Take your medicine on time, and don’t tire yourself too much.”

Isabella nodded.

He turned to leave.

Then she called softly behind him.

“Take care, Salvatore.”

He stopped.

Completely.

For a second, the mansion seemed to fall silent around him.

Slowly, he looked back over his shoulder.

Isabella was standing in the doorway, her fingers lightly holding the edge of the door, her expression open and sincere.

She wasn’t afraid of him.

She was worried for him.

The feeling that moved through him was so unfamiliar that he almost mistook it for anger.

No one said those words to Salvatore Bellamonte.

People obeyed him.

Feared him.

Used him.

Wanted something from him.

But they did not care whether he returned safely.

His eyes rested on her for a long moment.

Then, with a voice lower than before, he answered,

“I will.”

And for the first time in years, the lie felt less certain than the truth.

---

Salvatore sat in the back seat of the car as it drove toward the warehouse.

He leaned his head against the seat and closed his eyes for a moment.

Her voice would not leave his mind.

Take care, Salvatore.

And those eyes.

Trusting.

Warm.

Certain that he was the man protecting her.

A bitter thought crossed his mind.

She had no idea she needed protection from him first.

He opened his eyes sharply.

No.

This was a distraction.

She was useful.

Nothing more.

But even during meetings, even while discussing shipments and territories, part of his attention kept returning to her.

And that thought irritated him more than he cared to admit.