ISABELLA
Almost a week had passed since the wedding, and Isabella had barely seen her husband.
Every morning she woke up to an empty bed, the sheets cool on his side, the faint scent of his cologne lingering like a ghost. Every night she went to sleep alone, staring at the ceiling, listening for footsteps that never came.
Adrian was always gone.
Meetings. Calls. Deals. Threats.
A world she wasn’t allowed to step into.
She understood why— the danger, the need for caution, but understanding did not stop the ache.
Having Vito in the house helped — he filled the silence with his dry humor, his constant typing, his presence that felt like a protective shield. But she hated to admit, even to herself, that she missed Adrian.
His voice... and even his warmth, or the way he looked at her
