Chapter 2
I cleared the ballroom.
Guests left quickly once they realized the welcome party had become something else.
Only family, staff, and my guards remained.
I carried Isabella into my study and sat with her on my lap while one of the housekeepers brought warm water and clean clothes.
She did not want anyone touching the collar mark around her neck.
It was light.
Non-serious.
But she kept rubbing it.
I covered her hand gently.
“You don’t have to wear it again.”
She looked at me.
“Really?”
That word hurt.
Not thank you.
Really.
I nodded.
“Never again.”
She stared at me for several seconds, checking whether adults still meant what they said.
Then she whispered:
“Marcus says Bellandi dogs get food after people.”
My jaw tightened.
“What does that mean?”
She pointed toward the door.
“Party food.”
I asked staff.
Nobody wanted to answer.
Finally, an older server stepped forward.
“Ms. Victoria said Isabella was not to eat in formal rooms if she interrupted adult conversation.”
I looked at him.
“How often?”
“Several times.”
“And you obeyed?”
His eyes dropped.
“She said it came from you.”
Of course.
My name.
Borrowed again.
“What exactly did she say?”
“That Mr. Bellandi wanted his daughter taught traditional household discipline before she became spoiled.”
I almost laughed.
My daughter was three.
Apparently love had become spoilage.
Then Isabella tugged my sleeve.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Am I bad Bellandi?”
I looked at her.
“No.”
“Victoria says Mama made me soft.”
Everything inside me went still.
May you like
Isabella’s mother had been dead for eighteen months.
And apparently Victoria had been insulting her through our daughter ever since.
