CHAPTER 175
BOOK 3 STARTS HERE
ISABELLA
The sun was brutal, searing down on the pavement, and even under the manicured shade outside the compound I could feel it threatening to burn through my skin, which was crazy because we were almost getting to winter. It’s rare for this to happen yet. Maybe it was the universe speaking to me, trying to warn me to stay away, to go back home rather than do this game I was about to play.
But I was not going to listen to it today or the fearful spirit in my head. I’ve done enough listening to it and it was what’s brought me here. If I had started fighting earlier maybe I would be free or dead, but death too is freedom — better than living a life of fear and constant anxiety. Not that I would think of taking my life. No, no. I had gone past that, those dark thoughts that were my first companion in New York before my mother’s death, before I met Matt and Caroline and had people to live for.
Yet, even with the brave front I had decided to put on, even with the fight, I was trembling so hard my hands wouldn’t stay still, the tremor running from my fingertips to the base of my spine. My mind was a fog, thick and heavy, refusing to form a single reasonable thought while I stood in front of Charlotte’s apartment, caught between going in or turning back.
Caught in self-doubt, self-pity.
And when I thought of who could truly help me, only one name surfaced through the haze: Charlotte.
I exhaled and looked up, catching the eye of the security guard of the apartment who was not talking into his walkie-talkie; he was obviously from a good company and well trained, his eyes catching mine.
He had been staring at me for a while now, his expression shifting between suspicion and curiosity, as if trying to decide whether I belonged there or not — whether I was a lost soul or a danger to the people in the apartment.
It was one of those upper-end estates in New York, the kind of apartment complex that smelled like money — gated, silent, and beautiful. She was doing well for herself; I could see that in the gleam of the marble entryway, the tidy hedges, the stillness of the air. It was her dream apartment and I was happy she could see that it was achieved. My hands shook as I stood outside my apartment, fingers trembling so badly I could barely see the screen. Back then, she’d been hungry and ambitious, a rising star in the legal world; now she was so much more.
Last time we spoke, I think she had said something about traveling out of state, and I’d brushed it off, obviously not interested in listening to her then. I hadn’t asked where she was going or why. Yet here I was, after spending nights scouring the internet for her law firm’s contact, following breadcrumb trails until I found this address. I had remembered it from when we had spoken about it back then when we were still friends.
And now I had come ready to see her, ready to mend what was left of our relationship. Because despite everything, Charlotte felt like the only person who could help me now.
That’s why it hurt so badly. Deep down I have forgiven everyone else from the past — Tony, July — but her — why the betrayal burned so deep. She had been my only friend. And the reason I had started to talk to Mr. L in the first place. Only to leave me when I needed her the most.
I had never asked her why. Never demanded the reason for what she’d done even when she had come to see me because damn, I did not need closure. If you betrayed me you knew what you were doing and it was best I accept it.
But now, after two years of carrying that wound in silence, I was finally ready to confront the truth.
I was tired. Tired of living in fear. Tired of being someone Mr. Ferrari’s footmat, of watching people — everyone — do whatever they pleased to me without consequence. I wanted to be the woman of my own making now, to stand on my own decisions. To be someone Mr. Ferrari would think twice before threatening. To fight for my life, for my love, for my right to exist — with or without Levi. And that meant facing down Antonio. If that meant going to war with the ghosts of my past, then so be it.
I hate him and I want to see him suffer for all he’s done to me.
Today he thought threatening me would make me run, but seeing Franco alive, seeing all they had done to ruin my life in the past, all the hoops I was to reclaiming everything I’d lost.
And even if fear still held me in its vicelike grip and I remembered how long I had been outside my house crying, the tears burning my skin as they rolled down, my chest heaving until I forced myself to breathe until the trembling dulled into something I could control — then I decided to fight for myself.
I was bigger than this now. I was stronger. I wasn’t the weak, breakable thing he’d known before, the woman he could threaten and be done with.
Yes, I was still nothing in so many ways. But I had a little money now. Enough to defend myself, even if it meant selling the engagement ring I had accepted from Levi with such naïve hope.
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