The five words glowed on her screen, a digital serpent poised to strike: “Let’s talk about your father.” Isabella’s blood turned to ice in her veins. Her father. The quiet, gentle man who had taught her to hold a brush, whose heart had given out one ordinary afternoon. Gabe was a ghost desecrating a sacred grave.
Alessandro slept peacefully beside her. She couldn’t wake him. This was her ghost to face.
Sliding silently from the bed, she padded into the walk-in closet, closing the door before tapping the link. It was a live text chat, anonymous and untraceable.
Unknown: Are we alone, Dottoressa? No brooding billionaires listening in?
Her fingers trembled as she typed. Isabella: What do you want?
Unknown: I want you to understand the full picture. The game is larger than you know. It’s
