Bound by Blood and Sin

Chapter 3: GILDED CAGE

Isabella

I did not sleep.

How could I? Every sound made me jump. Footsteps in the hallway, voices speaking Italian behind closed doors. The hum of the city below, muffled by bulletproof glass.

The bedroom was beautiful in the way expensive things often are. Cold and Impersonal.

A king-sized bed with sheets that probably cost more than my monthly salary. An ensuite bathroom with marble everywhere. A walk-in closet already filled with clothes in my exact size.

That detail bothered me more than anything else. He knew my measurements. I had prepared for my arrival. Had been so certain I would come.

At dawn, someone knocked on the door.

I was already awake, sitting by the window, still wearing yesterday's clothes. "Come in," I called.

A woman entered, probably in her fifties, gray hair pulled back severely. She carried a tray with coffee and pastries.

"Good morning, Miss Costa," she said, her accent thick. "I am Rosa, I manage the household.

Mr. Russo asked me to bring you breakfast and to inform you that the wedding planner arrives at ten."

She set the tray on a side table and turned to leave.

"Wait," I said. "Rosa, please. Can I ask you something?"

She paused, her face carefully neutral.

"How long have you worked here?"

"Fifteen years, Miss Costa."

"And in those fifteen years, have there been other women? Other people he kept here?"

Something flickered in her eyes. Pity, maybe. Or understanding. "No, Miss. You are the first."

She left before I could ask anything else.

I drank the coffee because I needed the caffeine. I did not touch the food. My stomach felt like it was full of stones.

At exactly ten o'clock, another knock. This time, a young woman in a designer suit entered, carrying fabric samples and a tablet.

"Isabella, hello, I'm Claudia, I'll be coordinating your wedding, we have so much to do and a little time. Mr. Russo wants everything to be perfect."

She spoke without breathing, spreading samples across every surface. "I was thinking classic elegance, and traditional but modern, white of course unless you prefer ivory, and we need to discuss flowers, venue, and guest list, oh, this is so exciting."

I watched her arrange lace samples and felt dizzy.

"Claudia," I said quietly. "Does he always get what he wants?"

She looked up, confused. "Mr. Russo? Of course. Always." She said it like it was obvious, like the sky being blue.

The morning passed in a blur of decisions I did not care about. Dress styles. Flower arrangements. Menu options. Claudia asked my opinion on everything but somehow every choice led back to what Mr. Russo preferred, what Mr. Russo expected, and what Mr. Russo demanded.

By noon, I wanted to scream.

"I need air," I announced, standing abruptly. "I'm going for a walk."

Claudia's smile faltered. "Oh, well, you'll need to coordinate with security, Mr. Russo has specific protocols."

"I don't care about his protocols. I'm going outside."

I left the room before she could respond, heading for the elevator I had seen last night. Two men in suits came from nowhere, blocking my path.

"Miss Costa," one said politely. "Where are you going?"

"Out. Away. Anywhere that isn't here."

"We'll need to accompany you."

"No."

"Mr. Russo's orders, Miss. For your protection."

I laughed bitterly. "Protection. Right. You mean to make sure I don't run."

The man's expression did not change. "Both, Miss."

We stared at each other. I knew I would not win this fight. Not today.

"Fine," I said. "But I'm going to the park. And you're staying twenty feet away."

They agreed because they could afford to. Because we all knew I had nowhere to run, no one to run to, and nothing waiting for me except the life Dante Russo had already decided I would live.

The park was crowded with normal people. Joggers. Parents with strollers, tourists taking photographs, and people who made choices about their own lives.

I sat on a bench and watched them–these free people, and felt the weight of my situation settle deeper into my bones.

My phone buzzed. The new phone they had given me last night. Only two numbers programmed in. Rosa and him.

The text was from Dante. "The wedding planner says you left. Don't waste her time. She bills by the hour."

I typed back before I could stop myself. "Maybe I don't want a wedding."

Three dots appeared immediately. Then, "What you want stopped counting the day your father signed that contract. Be back in thirty minutes."

I stared at the message, rage building in my chest.

Another text came through. "Twenty nine minutes now."

I wanted to throw the phone into the fountain. I wanted to scream. I wanted to disappear.

Instead, I stood up and walked back to the gilded cage, my shadows trailing behind me.