CHAPTER 176
ISABELLA
I turned the ring slowly between my fingers, feeling the cool metal catch against my skin. My thumb traced the delicate band, circling it again and again as if the motion could steady me. Would I really dare to sell it? The thought struck like a sudden bruise, and a tightness climbed up my throat. I pressed my lips together, swallowing hard against the panic rising in my chest—the quiet, trembling fear of letting it go.
The last time I’d been this scared was when the police had broken into my house almost three years ago. They’d found photographs of Franco tied and bruised up under my bed and they’d found Franco’s watch hidden in my bedside table. They’d accused me of being tied to his disappearance just two weeks after my engagement to Levi. I didn’t even know he had disappeared; sure, I hadn’t seen him after we returned to Italy and tried to reach him, but I just felt he was busy. I had never seen his pictures. I had been confused, in total and utter shock as I was arrested and thrown into the cell.
My memories blurred as a high, piercing ring filled my ears. My breath hitched, my chest tightening as the world tilted and wavered. Even the memory of it had me shivering. I had locked away that memory for so long — it was either that or losing my mind. Now suddenly seeing Franco had opened the dam and it’s all coming back.
And I felt the fear I had felt then as if I was taken back to the past.
I had been so scared.
I had called Levi from the police station again and again when they had given me a phone to call someone.
He hadn’t answered. Until I gave up and called Charlotte.
Only Charlotte had come for me back then, trying to bail me out, assuring me she would clear my name.
I had believed Levi would show. I had made excuses for him, lied to myself that he was delayed. But he never came.
A wave of nausea rolled through me, twisting my insides into knots. I pressed my palm to my sternum as if I could force the rising panic back down. This isn’t the time, Isabella. Not now. You can’t back down. Not here. Not again.
I straightened, inhaled, and walked toward the gate. The security guard’s eyes flicked over me with mild suspicion as he asked who I was looking for. My voice wavered but didn’t break.
“I’m here to see Charlotte,” I said.
He frowned, asked for her surname, then picked up the phone. My stomach clenched as I watched him dial, listened to his low, measured voice. When he asked for my name, I gave it, my heart pounding hard enough to shake my ribs.
A minute later, he looked up at me. “She said to let you in. Flat 23B.”
The gates slid open with a soft hum, and I walked in on legs that didn’t feel like mine. The guard directed me to the elevator, and I stepped inside. The mirrored walls reflected a version of me I barely recognized — pale, strained, eyes too bright. My hands clutched my bag like it was the only thing tethering me to the ground.
By the time the elevator doors opened onto her floor, my heartbeat was a roar in my ears. I moved to her door, 23, each step heavier than the last. Every emotion rose at once: helplessness, fear, anger, rage, sadness, dread. They crashed over me like a wave as I raised my hand.
And then the door opened.
Charlotte stood there, watching me, her expression unreadable.
“Hi,” she said quietly.
“Hello,” I said, my voice cracking on the word.
Charlotte smiled, soft but unsure, as if she were asking for permission with her eyes. She took a small step forward. I stayed perfectly still, not inviting her but not pushing her away either. After a heartbeat, she closed the distance; her arms slid around me.
Her hug was firm, grounding, and for a moment the scent of her shampoo and the warmth of her body undid me. I let out a long, shaking breath and clung to her; my tears finally broke free. But I wasn’t crying because I was weak. Not anymore. I was crying because I was done being weak. Because now I would fight — not just for love but for myself, for my dignity, for everything that had been stolen from me.
Antonio would pay. Whoever tried to break me, whoever dragged my family into their games — they would all pay. I wasn’t going to roll on the floor for them. I wasn’t going to crawl. I was ready to fight.
“I need your help,” I whispered against her shoulder.
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