Prisoner of the Dark

Chapter 3: The Art of Still War

Isabella

Three days have passed since I signed. Three days in which I've played the role of the docile prisoner. I let the maids dress me, I ate what was served to me, I smiled when I was told to smile. Every gesture is calculated, every expression carefully choreographed.

This morning, like every morning since my return, Leo is brought to me for breakfast. Maria, the nanny, remains discreetly in a corner of the room, her eyes never leaving us. Surveillance cameras are aimed at us. Dario wants to ensure I respect our new arrangements.

— Mommy, are you coming to play in my room today? Leo asks, crunching on his cereal.

His innocent voice pierces my heart. I stroke his hair, forcing a calm smile.

— Of course, my heart. But only if you finish your breakfast.

I feel Maria's gaze weighing on me. She will report every word, every gesture to Dario. I have become an actress in my own life, and this dining room is my stage.

Suddenly, Dario enters. He wears a steel-gray suit that accentuates his natural authority. His gaze sweeps the room before settling on us.

— Good morning, my son.

He kisses Leo's forehead, then his eyes turn to me. I lower my gaze, adopting a submissive posture. I feel his satisfied look roam over me.

— Isabella. You look well this morning.

— Thank you, Dario. Sleep did me good.

I keep my voice soft, almost timid. He smiles, visibly pleased to see the effect of his punishment. What he doesn't understand is that every moment of this charade strengthens my resolve.

After breakfast, as Maria takes Leo away, Dario holds me back by the arm.

— I have an important meeting today. I'll be away until this evening.

— I understand.

— You will have the freedom to move around the house, but Marco will follow you.

Marco, his personal bodyguard. His constant presence by my side is another form of prison.

— Of course, Dario. I have nowhere to go without you.

My answer seems to satisfy him. He places a cold kiss on my cheek before leaving.

A few hours later, I walk through the gardens under Marco's close surveillance. The sun caresses my skin, but I feel no warmth. Only the cold determination growing inside me.

As we approach the rose garden, I deliberately trip, twisting my ankle with a feigned cry.

— Ouch!

Marco rushes to my side, his impassive face marked with slight concern.

— Are you alright, madam?

— I... I don't think I can walk back to the house.

Without hesitation, he lifts me in his arms. This is the moment I've been waiting for. While he carries me, my nimble fingers slip into the inside pocket of his jacket, lifting his mobile phone. The movement is quick, invisible.

— Thank you, Marco, I murmur, hiding the device in the folds of my dress.

Back in my room, I feign fatigue and ask to be left alone. As soon as the door closes, I rush into the bathroom, the only place without cameras.

My heart races as I dial the number I've never forgotten, Alessio's. The man who hates Dario almost as much as I do.

The ringtone sounds once, twice...

— Hello?

Alessio's voice is deeper than in my memories.

— Alessio, it's Isabella.

A silence follows, charged with surprise.

— Isabella? How did you...

— Listen to me. I don't have much time. You want to strike at Dario? I can give you what you need.

— Why would I trust Dario's wife?

— Because I'm not his wife. I'm his prisoner. And I'm ready to do anything to free myself.

I glance nervously at the door, expecting it to open at any moment.

— What are you proposing?

— Documents. Proof. Everything you need to destroy him.

— And in exchange?

— You protect me and my son. And you give us a new life.

Another silence, shorter this time.

— Agreed. But how...

— I'll contact you when I can. Be ready.

I hang up quickly and delete the call. Then I slip discreetly out of the bathroom, the phone hidden in my hand. I need to return it to Marco before he notices it's gone.

When I open the door, I find Marco just on the other side, his face impassive.

— Madam, is everything alright? You were in the bathroom for a long time.

— My ankle was hurting. I took a painkiller.

I hold out the phone I had hidden behind my back, hoping he won't check his pockets.

— Could you bring me some water, Marco?

He hesitates for a moment, then nods. While he walks away, I quickly replace the phone in the jacket he left on a chair.

When he returns with the glass of water, I drink slowly, hiding my trembling.

— Thank you, Marco. I think I'll rest now.

He nods and resumes his post outside my door. Alone at last, I collapse on the bed, my body trembling with adrenaline.

I've taken the first step. I've contacted my enemy's enemy. But now I'm walking a tightrope over a precipice.

If Dario discovers my betrayal, death will seem a merciful punishment.

But that thought no longer frightens me. Because for the first time in years, I feel alive. I am no longer the helpless victim. I have become a danger.

And Dario doesn't yet know that the prey he thinks he has tamed is about to become the predator