Chapter 3
1315 Words
Isabella
My entire body goes cold.
For one horrible second, I stop breathing completely.
My father is here.
I immediately stand from the bed so quickly the tray almost falls onto the floor. Panic crashes into me all at once. My mind fills with memories before I can stop them.
The sound of my father’s voice.
The feeling of standing too straight during dinners.
The constant fear of disappointing him.
Matteo watches my reaction carefully.
“You look terrified,” he says quietly.
I shake my head too fast. “I need to go downstairs.”
“You don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
I move toward the door, but Matteo blocks me easily. He’s calm while my heart feels ready to burst out of my chest.
“He’s your father,” Matteo says. “Why are you scared?”
“I’m not scared.”
Another lie.
He notices immediately.
“I can hear your heartbeat from here.”
My eyes burn with embarrassment.
“I just want to go home.”
“You’re not leaving with him tonight.”
That finally makes me look up at him properly.
“What?”
His expression stays cold, unreadable.
“I said no.”
“You can’t decide that.”
“I already did.”
Anger flashes through me for the first time since arriving here. Small and weak, but still there.
“You kidnapped me.”
“And yet you seem more afraid of your father than me.”
The words hit too close to the truth.
I hate that he noticed.
Before I can answer, the guard knocks again.
“Boss,” he says carefully through the door, “Judge Romano is demanding to see his daughter.”
Demanding.
Not asking.
Something painful twists inside my chest.
Matteo notices my face change again.
Then he opens the door and looks at the guard. “Five minutes.”
The guard nods and disappears downstairs.
Matteo closes the door again before turning back toward me.
“You’re staying here.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“He’ll be furious.”
“I don’t care.”
I stare at him in disbelief.
People care when Vincent Romano is angry. Entire courtrooms become silent around my father. Politicians obey him. Police officers fear him.
But Matteo looks completely unaffected.
That should make me feel safer.
Instead, it makes me nervous in a different way.
Because only dangerous people stop fearing powerful men.
“I need to talk to him,” I whisper.
“You really don’t.”
I wrap my arms around myself tightly. “You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it.”
I open my mouth.
Nothing comes out.
How do I explain a lifetime of fear to someone like Matteo De Luca?
How do I explain that my father never needed to hit me often because his words already hurt enough?
Silence fills the room.
Matteo studies me for a long moment before speaking again.
“Did he give you those bruises?”
My stomach twists painfully.
“No.”
The answer comes too fast.
His eyes narrow slightly.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“I said no.”
“And I don’t believe you.”
I look away immediately.
Nobody has ever questioned me like this before. Most people see my father as perfect. Respectable. Untouchable.
Matteo looks at me like he already knows something is wrong.
That scares me more than it should.
Suddenly, voices rise downstairs.
My father’s voice cuts through the mansion sharply.
“I’m done waiting.”
Fear instantly climbs up my spine.
Matteo notices.
Again.
His jaw tightens slightly before he walks toward the bedroom door.
“Stay here.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“What if he gets angry?”
Matteo pauses.
Then he slowly turns back toward me.
For the first time since meeting him, something dangerous flashes openly across his face.
“Then he can be angry.”
And somehow, that answer silences me completely.
He leaves the room before I can stop him.
The second the door closes, I rush toward it anyway.
I know I shouldn’t listen.
But I do.
Carefully, I open the door just enough to hear voices downstairs.
“He’s my daughter,” my father says coldly. “You had no right bringing her here.”
Matteo sounds calmer. “She witnessed something.”
“And now she leaves with me.”
“No.”
The silence after that single word feels heavy even from upstairs.
I grip the door harder.
Nobody tells my father no.
Nobody.
“I don’t think you understand who you’re speaking to,” my father says finally.
“I understand perfectly.”
I can picture the expression on my father’s face without seeing it. Calm. Controlled. Smiling slightly while angry underneath.
It always means danger.
“You’ve involved yourself with the wrong family,” my father continues.
Matteo laughs softly.
“That’s interesting coming from you.”
My breathing becomes uneven again.
I shouldn’t be listening to this.
But I can’t stop.
Then another voice joins them downstairs.
Sofia.
“She’s exhausted,” Sofia says. “You showing up in the middle of the night screaming isn’t helping.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“And yet she looked terrified when she heard you arrived.”
Silence.
Complete silence.
My chest tightens painfully.
I step back from the door immediately like the words physically hit me.
Why would Sofia say that?
Why would she notice?
I press my hand against my mouth.
Downstairs, my father speaks again, quieter this time.
“You know nothing about my relationship with my daughter.”
“No,” Sofia replies calmly. “But I know fear when I see it.”
Tears suddenly sting my eyes.
I hate this.
I hate people talking about me like I’m weak.
Another long silence follows before my father speaks again.
“I want to see Isabella.”
Matteo answers instantly.
“She doesn’t want to see you.”
That’s not true.
At least I don’t think it is.
But hearing someone say it out loud still shakes something inside me.
Footsteps suddenly move toward the stairs.
Panic floods through me.
I rush backward away from the door just before it opens.
Matteo walks back inside first.
My father stands behind him.
The second I see Vincent Romano, my body reacts automatically. I straighten immediately. My hands clasp together tightly in front of me.
His eyes move across my face carefully.
“You disappeared,” he says.
Not Are you okay?
Not I was worried.
Just disappointment.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper automatically.
Matteo notices.
I can feel it.
My father steps closer. “Get your things. We’re leaving.”
Relief floods through me so fast it almost hurts.
But before I can move, Matteo speaks.
“No.”
My father slowly turns toward him.
The room suddenly feels too small.
“I wasn’t speaking to you,” my father says coldly.
“And I wasn’t asking.”
The tension between them becomes suffocating instantly.
I look between both men nervously.
My father’s expression remains calm, but I know him well enough to see the anger underneath.
Matteo looks completely unaffected.
That somehow makes everything worse.
Then my father’s eyes land on the bruise barely visible beneath my sleeve.
His face changes for half a second.
Only half a second.
But Matteo notices it too.
So do I.
My father quickly looks away again.
Too quickly.
Matteo’s voice becomes quieter.
“Interesting.”
Fear crawls through my stomach instantly.
My father looks at me sharply. “Isabella. Come here.”
I move automatically before stopping halfway.
Because Matteo suddenly steps in front of me.
And when he speaks again, his voice is cold enough to make the entire room feel dangerous.
“You don’t touch her.”
- Writer
