Chapter 3 - The Basement and the Confession
Twenty minutes later, the dining room was empty of breakfast dishes, but the atmosphere remained thick with the stench of betrayal.
Grace Parker, Emma’s mother, stood in the center of the room with her hands clasped tightly in front of her black-and-white maid’s apron, her eyes red-rimmed and trembling. She had been summoned from the laundry rooms by two of Allessandro’s personal enforcers, Marco and Luca, who now guarded the doors like stone monoliths.
Isabella was seated at the far end of the dining table, her silk robe disheveled, her wrists bound loosely with heavy plastic zip-ties behind her back.
Allessandro sat back down in his chair. He didn't eat the bread. He pushed the plate away, picking up his steaming cup of espresso instead, taking a slow, measured sip.
“Grace,” Allessandro said, his voice softening just a fraction as he looked at the terrified woman.
“Sir? Please... whatever Emma did, whatever mistake she made, I’ll pay for it. Take it out of my wages, please—”
“Grace, look at me,” Allessandro commanded gently.
The older woman looked up, her breath hitching.
“Your daughter just saved my life,” Allessandro said.
Grace blinked, stunned. She looked down at Emma, who was hiding half behind her skirt, still clutching the cloth doll.
“Last night,” Allessandro continued, turning his gaze back to Isabella, “Miss Vance attempted to poison my food. She intended to incapacitate me, take control of my estate signatures while I was bedridden, and execute a hostile corporate takeover of the Romano-Vance shipping lines before our wedding.”
Isabella glared across the table, her face twisted in rage. “You can’t prove the takeover part! It’s all circumstantial! My father will tear this estate apart brick by brick!”
“Your father is currently answering my phone call in the study,” Allessandro replied smoothly, setting his coffee cup down. “He was very interested to learn that his daughter was trying to poison her fiancé with a slow-acting digitalis derivative stolen from his own medical cabinet. In fact, he gave me full permission to handle you however I see fit, provided the family name stays out of the police blotter.”
Isabella’s bravado finally shattered completely. Tears of rage and terror spilled down her cheeks, ruining her carefully applied morning makeup.
“You’re a monster,” she sobbed, pulling against the zip-ties. “You’re a cold-blooded monster!”
“No, Isabella,” Allessandro stood up, walking toward her chair. “I am a survivor. And in my world, betrayal is paid for in full.”
He signaled to Marco. The enforcer stepped forward, grabbing Isabella firmly by the shoulders and hauling her to her feet.
“Take her to the lower cellar,” Allessandro ordered coldly. “Lock her in the holding room without a phone, without water, and without contact until her father’s personal envoy arrives tonight to take her back to Chicago. She is officially erased from this estate.”
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As Isabella screamed curses and kicked out blindly while being dragged down the service stairs, the heavy oak door thudded shut behind them, cutting off her voice like a guillotine.
Silence returned to the dining room.
