(Isabella’s POV)
The walk from the guest suite to the study was the longest of my life. It was not a walk of a captive being led, but of a soldier marching toward the front lines. Alessandro stayed at my side, a silent, solid presence. His hand rested lightly on the small of my back, a gesture that was no longer about possession, but about support. A steady anchor in the churning sea of my fear.
The penthouse had been transformed. The quiet, museum-like stillness was gone, replaced by the low hum of a fortress on high alert. Guards were posted at every junction, their dark suits a stark contrast to the pale marble. They were armed, their gazes constantly sweeping, but when their eyes met mine, I saw not suspicion, but a new, grudging respect. Alessandro’s acceptance of me had shifted my
