PAWNS OF DECEPTION

Chapter 3

ISADORA’S POV

As I drove back home, regret lingered. It was so heavy and persistent. I kept thinking I should have let him. I couldn’t forget how that stranger made me feel. My mind wandered, replaying the moment, imagining what it would have been like if we had gone further.

I parked my black Ferrari Roma in the garage and stepped out. As I walked toward the main building, I noticed security personnel moving around, some were speaking into their earpieces.

The tension didn’t ease when I stepped inside. Even the living room felt charged. The staff moved quickly. Just as I reached the stairs, hurried footsteps thundered through the corridor.

I stepped into the hallway and followed the noise until I reached Irina’s room.

“What’s going on?” I asked one of the maids.

“Irina is nowhere to be found,” she blurted.

I stepped inside. My elder brother, Ivan, stood at the center of the room, questioning- no, interrogating the maids. Their heads were bowed low, hands clasped tightly in front of them as though they feared even breathing too loudly.

My stepmother, Anastasia, stood near the window, dialing Irina’s number over and over again. Each time she pressed the phone to her ear, her face twisted further with panic.

Alexei stepped into the room.

“I’ve locked them up.”

My brother slowly lifted his gaze before looking toward the maids.

“Good,” Ivan said coldly. “Keep them there too. Start the torture.”

The girls went pale with their bodies trembling, but none of them dared to beg. Pleading would be useless. Everyone in the house knew that.

Ivan was the successor to the business, he was ruthless, disciplined, and utterly intolerant of mistakes. In his world, every failure had a price.

“Ivan,” a deep stern voice cut through the tension as my father entered the room, “can I get an explanation of what has happened.” My father asked.

“There’s security footage of her leaving,” Ivan said, his voice tight with disbelief. “Though it’s ironic someone managed to escape the most heavily guarded estate in America.”

I scanned the room slowly before spotting a neatly folded paperr under the bed side lamp, I picked it and read it.

“Well… sorry—not really. I can’t go through with this wedding. How exactly do you expect me to spend the rest of my life with that cold Ricci boy, and worse, become that witch Arianna’s sister-in-law?

Nah, not happening.

I’m in love with my London boy, and frankly I’d rather spend my life in a bikini, sipping martinis on a beach with him than trapped in some miserable mafia marriage.

“Poka.” Bye

I stared at the paper for a moment.

Typical Irina.Selfish. Air-headed. Reckless.

We could call her a devil dressed in pink. Which made the rumors about her even more ironic. Irina was deeply involved in the family’s underworld operations. On the streets, people whispered about how merciless she could be. She lived like a careless socialite until business began.Then she transformed into something terrifying.

A fascinating contradiction.

I handed the letter to Ivan.

His brows knitted together as he read it, disbelief flashing across his face before he passed it to our father.

My father read silently and handed it to Anastasia.

“What?” she gasped after finishing the letter. “Irina wouldn’t do this!”

Her eyes darted between Ivan and my father.

“What are we going to do?” She added.

“Isadora will marry in Irina’s place.” Ivan said, breaking the silence. His tone left no room for debate.

Anastasia’s head snapped toward me.

“You must be joking,” she hissed. “I will never allow that illegitimate b***h to take my daughter’s place.”

I scoffed. One thing Anastasia dreaded was me standing in her children’s spotlight. She was so damn scared of that. I mean… who wouldn’t be?

“Irina has already shamed this family,” Ivan replied coldly. “And Father will not allow that humiliation to spread.”

“Is there truly nothing else we can do?” Anastasia asked, desperation creeping into her voice.

“Irta is out of the country,” Ivan replied, rubbing his temple. “Isadora is the only option.”

“We could send for her immediately,”

“Mom, the wedding is in less than 6 hours” Ivan reasoned.

“Never-“

“Enough.” My father had cut her off. ““Isadora will marry the Ricci heir.”

His gaze landed on me briefly before shifting back to Ivan.

“Inform them.”

Ivan immediately dialed the Ricci family.

“There’s no issue, as long as the alliance remains in place. It doesn’t matter which of your daughters my son marries,” an older man said from the other end of the call, his Italian accent thick and heavy.

The call ended, and my father turned to face me. Anastasia stormed out of the room, anger evident in every step.

“Doch,” he said, his voice firm, “you’re going to marry the Ricci heir. We need to talk. Let’s continue this in my office.”

Without waiting for a response, he walked out. Ivan followed closely behind.

I walked to the window and stared at our quiet estate under the dark sky.I wouldn’t say getting married was a bad thing. In some ways, it was almost… perfect.

My goals had always been simple -find out the truth about my mother, have a daughter I could pour all my love into, and live freely. But as things stood, marrying into the Ricci family would give me something I had never truly had before. Leverage..

In my own family, I wasn’t high-ranking. Not important enough to ask questions. Not powerful enough to demand answers. Everything I did had to be done in secrecy. This marriage would change that.

My phone buzzed which pulled me out of my thoughts. It was a text text from Misha, reminding me why I went to the club in the first place. Whatever this was… it would have to wait.

I pulled myself away from the window and went to meet my father. He went over the alliance, their enemies, and how delicate it all was. He reminded me about loyalty, appearances, and my role as his daughter and future Ricci wife. There were rules, and breaking them came with a price.

As he rounded off, the office door opened and stepmother walked in.

She took a seat and her eyes settling on me. It was the deadliest stare ever filled with something far more dangerous than anger.

“Father… if I am to take Irina’s place, I want to get involved in their empire. I need access,” I said, my voice was steady. My stepmother’s loud scoff didn’t go unnoticed, her disbelief at my audacity was almost palpable.

“Of course, Doch,” my father replied. “That won’t be a problem.” He sounded almost… pleased. As though he’d been waiting for me to ask. And maybe he had.

——-

The gigantic chandelier above scattered crystal lights across the hall, white peonies like clouds lined the walkway while melodies from the pipe organ flowed majestically.

I felt a sharp, pinching pain on one side under my chest. The white dress, adorned inch by inch with tiny sparkling diamonds that flowed into a long train, was absolutely a dream wedding gown, but it dug into my skin, it was clearly not made for me, but for my sister Irina.

I turned my gaze toward the man escorting me down the aisle.

My father.

For the first time in years, his expression softened. The usual cold neutrality that defined him had melted into something almost fatherly.

Almost.

We reached the altar, and I faced the man who would become my husband. His suit hugged him perfect like it had been conjured by the hands of God. His presence was magnetic, commanding and impossible to ignore.

I slowly raised my head to look at him and those dark eyes didn’t go unnoticed.