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Chapter 23: His Study after Hours

Author: Lina Franklin
last update publish date: 2026-06-07 18:00:29

“You asked to see me,” Isabella said as she stepped into the study, her voice low and careful, already aware of how quiet the room was and how Victor was standing with his back to her, looking out at the city like she was not there yet.

He did not answer right away.

She waited.

After a few seconds that stretched long enough for her to notice the sound of traffic far below and the faint hum of something electrical in the walls, Victor lifted one hand slightly without turning and gestured toward
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    The phone buzzed in Isabella’s hand. The noise cutting through the quiet of Victor’s study. His back was to her. Shoulders broad and still as he stared out the window, lost in thought. She answered before the second ring.“Mama?” Her voice sounded strained. Fear prickled at the back of her neck.“Isabella.” Her mother’s voice was tight. Thin. Like a wire pulled too tight. Not her usual calm tone. This was fear. The kind Isabella hadn’t heard in years. Not since the funeral.“What’s wrong?” Isabella pressed. Her heart started pounding.“A man came today,” her mother whispered, rushing the words. “To the facility. He said he was from the insurance company. For your employer.”Isabella’s blood ran cold. “What did he want? Did you tell him anything?” Her eyes went to Victor. But he hadn’t moved. He couldn’t hear her from here.“No, no, nothing real. He had papers, Isabella. Looked official. Asked small questions. About your work. Your… marriage.” Her mother paused on the last word. “

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    Victor admitted it to himself first. The thought was bitter. “It’s possible, isn’t it? The message… it could be from the same person. The one who set up Rome.”Isabella moved to the window. Her back was to him. City lights reflected in the glass. She was thinking. He could almost hear it. She was going over everything she learned since coming back. She was more like Felix than she knew. A planner. A fighter.“How many knew your exact moves that night?” Her voice was low. Careful.Victor paused. He counted in his head. The inner circle. The ones who handled the most secret info. “Four. Me included. My security chief, Vincenzo. My consigliere, Marcello. And Seth.”“Four.” She turned. Her eyes narrowed. “Three others.”“Three others,” he confirmed.“And how many of those three are still… active?” She hesitated on the last word.“Two,” Victor said. The old suspicion weighed on him. “Vincenzo is gone. Died a few years back. Natural causes.”“Leaving Marcello and Seth,” she said, her ga

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    Isabella felt her phone buzz as she walked away from Victor’s office. His anger still felt close, like heat on her skin. Another unknown message. Her stomach turned. She thought it might be from Cora. Another threat. Another taunt. But when she read it, cold fear ran through her. Worse than anything Cora had sent._Don’t trust the man keeping you safe._ _The same hands that held your father while he died… are the hands now holding you close._Isabella’s breath caught. This wasn’t Cora. This was different. Her blood went cold, then hot. Every part of her wanted to delete it. To pretend she never saw it. But the words were already stuck in her head. She was done being kept in the dark. Done being used.Without thinking, she turned around. The door to his study was still open. Victor sat at his desk again, staring at papers. A half-empty glass sat under the lamp. He looked up, surprised, when she pushed the door open wider.“Isabella?” His voice was calm, but his jaw looked

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    The words were stuck in Victor’s throat, thick and heavy like old oil. He hated this. He hated the way his stomach twisted, a familiar cold knot forming low in his gut. Protecting Isabella felt like a constant battle against forces he couldn’t always see, and now, calming her was no longer part of that equation. Keeping her calm was the opposite of what he had to do. This was going to break that fragile peace they’d somehow cultivated. But she needed to know. She deserved to know.Victor pulled out his phone, the screen felt hot in his hand, and turned it around without a word. The image filled the small space between them, stark and intrusive. Isabella, standing by the sandwich cart, her dark hair catching the light, a small, unconscious smile on her lips. A moment of normal, weaponized.Her eyes, usually so expressive, widened just a fraction. It was fleeting, a ripple across a perfectly still pond. Then, the stillness settled in, cold and sharp, like winter ice. Victor recognized i

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