ISABELLA
The moment Luca pushed open the massive wooden doors, the sound hit me like a physical force.
Voices. Dozens of them. Deep, sharp, angry, impatient.
The room was a storm of men — capos, underbosses, dons from every allied family — all talking over one another, hands slicing through the air, chairs scraping against the floor. The scent of cigar smoke clung to the walls, mixing with the faint aroma of aged whiskey and old leather.
The estate’s meeting hall was enormous, built for power. Dark wood. Heavy beams. A long table carved from a single ancient tree. Animal heads mounted on the walls — trophies of dominance.
And I was the only woman in the room.
The noise dipped for a single second when I stepped inside. One second. One breath. One heartbeat. Then the talking resumed
