(Isabella’s POV)
The silence on the other end of the line was a roaring abyss. For a terrifying second after the words left my mouth, I thought the call had dropped. All I could hear was the frantic thumping of my own heart, the distant sound of shouting, and a sharp wind whistling in the background.
“Alessandro?” I whispered, my knuckles white as I gripped the burner phone. “Are you there?”
“I’m here,” his voice finally came, and the sound was so strained, so full of a pain that went beyond the physical, that it stole the breath from my lungs. “Isabella… say that again.”
“The signature,” I repeated, my voice shaking as I stared at the document on the table, my father’s familiar, elegant script a damning piece of evidence. “It’s my father’s. He was the one who authorized the stock tran
