31. Isabella
ISABELLA
The cell they've locked me in in the basement is windowless, damp, and cold. A thin blanket provides my only warmth, and the small cot is the only place to sit or lie down. My stomach growls, a constant reminder of the meager scraps they've been feeding me.
How many days has it been? Two? Three? Time blurs when you're locked in darkness with only sporadic appearances from the maid who brings water and stale kitchen scraps. I feel tired and weak, and I’m sure it’s not the pregnancy alone making me feel that way.
The lock clicks, and I straighten, swallowing hard. The door swings open, and Enrico stands there, a smirk on his face.
"Well, look at you. The mighty Mrs. Dante, reduced to this."
"I need more food," I say, ignoring his taunts. "And water. For the baby's sake, Enrico."
He laughs. "The baby? You mean the bastard Dante you're carrying?"
White-hot rage surges through me, momentarily replacing my exhaustion. "My child is not a bastard. Alessandro and I are married."
"A marriage that lasted how long before he threw you out?" Enrico stands in front of me, his arms crossed. "Face it, Isabella. He wants nothing to do with you or your spawn."
"You don't understand what you're doing. If I lose this baby because of you—"
"If you lose it, we'll find another way," he says with a dismissive wave. "Though I admit, a Dante heir would be convenient leverage."
"Leverage. This is your niece or nephew, Enrico. Your blood." Though I’m his blood and he clearly despises me.
"Half Dante blood." His face twists with disgust. "Tainted."
"What did you do? Why did Alessandro send me away?"
A slow smile spreads across his face. "Let's just say I helped myself to something of his. Something only you could've given me access to."
The warehouse key. I remember my father mentioning the whisky poisoning and Enrico admitting it was him and using it to get the key.
"You used me. You set me up."
"And Alessandro believed it. So much for true love." He leans closer. "You chose the wrong side, little sister."
"Please," I reach for him, desperation overriding my pride. "The baby needs nutrition. I'm getting weak—”
"Maybe you should've thought about that before betraying your family." He pulls away, heading for the door. "Loyalty has consequences, Isabella. So does the lack of it."
“I didn’t betray you. I married him like you made me. You never asked me to help you… you just set me up.”
He sneers. “Would you have helped me?”
I look down because I wouldn’t have.
“Right. I’m not an idiot, Isabella. I saw you make goo-goo eyes at him. You don’t think I know you snuck off with him at the gala? You’re a fucking slut and that child is probably a bastard created before you married.”
“Please, Enrico—”
“Like I said, you betrayed us. Now you pay.” The door slams shut and darkness engulfs me once again. I lie on the cot, curling into myself, certain I’m going to die here.
Time blurs. I mark time by the meager meals they bring. My body grows weaker, and I’m terrified I’m going to lose the baby. I can’t let that happen. I have to do something.
But what? I can’t go to Alessandro. He’ll just toss me in whatever prison he keeps in his basement.
I scoff at myself for being such a fool thinking Alessandro could fall in love with me.
There was no way he’d ever let himself love and trust a Vitale.
Every time suspicion arose, he turned on me.
This last time, he cast me out without a chance to defend myself.
His distrust runs as deep as the hatred between our families.
And yet...
My child deserves better than this. Better than the slow starvation Enrico has planned for us. Better than being used as a pawn in my brother's desperate grab for power.
What if I pretend to agree with Enrico? Tell him I've seen the error of my ways, that the Vitale family comes first? He might let me out of here and be held in my former bedroom, giving me a chance to escape.
But then what?
Alessandro won’t ever believe me, but surely, my child stands a better chance with Alessandro than with my family. Whatever his faults, whatever his suspicions, he wouldn't starve his own child.
The lock clicks open, and I shield my eyes from the sudden light. Enrico strolls in with a swagger that turns my stomach. I wish I had the bravery and strength to scratch his eyes out.
"Thought you might want an update on family business," he says, dropping a newspaper into my lap.
The headline screams about violence in Dante territory. My heart sinks as I scan the article.
"Your husband's empire is crumbling," Enrico gloats, leaning against the wall. "The new plan is working perfectly. Three more Dante lieutenants dead yesterday. By the time we're finished, there won't be anyone left loyal to him."
I keep my expression neutral, though my pulse races. "And then what? You think you can just walk in and take his place?"
"That's exactly what's going to happen."
"Alessandro's not stupid," I counter, but doubt creeps in.
"He's desperate and alone. His men are dying, and his wife?" Enrico laughs. "Well, you're here, aren't you?"
My fingers tighten on the newspaper. "You won't win."
"We already have. In three days, we're hitting his mansion. In three days, what’s his will be mine."
I have to accept that it is a possibility that he’ll defeat Alessandro. My first thought is that I need to warn him.
“What happens to me then?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Father and I are debating that.” He struts out, locking the door behind him.
Three days. I have three days to warn Alessandro about my family’s plans.
For the first time since they locked me away, I feel something besides despair. A fierce resolve builds.
I need to escape. Next chance I get.
That chance comes when a maid brings my meal.
She hands it to me, and I set it on the cot beside me.
When she turns to leave, I jump up, lunging forward and pushing her back as I move past her toward the door.
I run out, shutting the door behind me to lock her in. I can’t afford to have her warn anyone.
I stumble down the dim hall. My legs are weak from days of inactivity and not enough nourishment.
The maid's voice rings out. I pray no one can hear her as I hurry toward the small basement window, my only escape route. As I look out, I see it’s dark and give a thank you to God. It will be easier to navigate off the property in the darkness of night.
I grab a metal toolbox from a nearby shelf and hurl it at the window. Glass shatters. I haul myself up, feeling the glass slice into my palms and forearms as I squeeze through.
Pain lances through my side as a particularly sharp piece catches my ribs, tearing through my shirt and into flesh. I bite down on my cry as I tumble out onto wet grass.
For one terrifying moment, I can't move, can't breathe. My baby. Please, be okay.
I don’t have time to waste. Who knows how long before they realize the maid is missing and go searching for her? When they find her, they’ll discover I’m gone and my father’s army of men will be searching for me.
I scramble to my feet, clutching my bleeding side as I run until my lungs burn. I reach the outer wall of the estate, walking along it until I reach the old oak that Enrico and I used to climb when we were carefree children. Before my father turned him into a sociopath.
I start to climb and slip, scraping my hands. But I don’t give up. I reach a limb that hovers over the wall. I climb onto the wall, looking down the other side. It’s possible I’m going to break something getting off here, but what choice do I have?
I turn on my stomach and lower myself over until I’m hanging by my hands down the other side. Finally, I let go and land hard on the ground. The shock of it jolts up my legs, but nothing is broken, thank God.
The Dante estate is miles away, but I know these streets, so putting one foot in front of the other, I start walking. Each step sends fresh waves of pain through my side. I bunch up my shirt to press over the wound. It doesn’t stop the bleeding entirely, but hopefully, it slows it.
I hear a car coming and immediately step off the road to hide in the foliage, the branches of the bushes scratching at my arms and face. When it passes, I wait until I’m sure they can’t see me in the rearview mirror and then begin walking again.
By the time I reach the outskirts of the Dante estate, my vision blurs. The wound at my side pulses. I've gone too long without proper food or water. But my baby… I can't fail now.
I force myself onward. The tall iron gates of the Dante estate materialize before me. Cameras track my approach, and I know guards are probably watching.
Do they recognize me? Will they even let me in? Or will Alessandro have ordered them to turn me away? Or worse, shoot me on sight.
I stumble up to the intercom, leaving bloody fingerprints on the button I press.
"Please," I rasp. "I need to see Don Dante."
“Who is this?”
“Mrs. Dante… Isabella Dante.”
There’s a pause and then, "We have strict orders about the Vitale family. No exceptions."
I press my forehead against the call box. My legs threaten to give out beneath me. But I won’t give up. Not after everything I've endured. Not when I'm so close.
"Please," I beg. "My brother is planning an attack on the mansion."
"Step away from the gate, Mrs. Dante." The voice hardens.
"I need to see Alessandro!" Desperation gives me one final surge of strength. "They're going to kill him!"
"Ma'am, if you don't leave the property—"
"Then shoot me!" I cry out. "If Alessandro won't see me, then put a bullet in my head right here, because I'm already dead."
The world tilts, the edges of my vision darkening. I slide down to my knees, strength finally abandoning me. I guess it all ends here.
The gate buzzes, then slowly begins to slide open. Two guards rush toward me, weapons drawn.
“Before you kill me…” I start, wanting Alessandro to know about the baby. To give him a chance to want it.
“We’re not going to kill you, Mrs. Dante.”
I try to stand, to show them I can walk on my own power, but my body refuses to obey.
They lift me under each shoulder and drag me to the house.
This is it. My only chance to save Alessandro and our baby.