Chapter 3
I asked Isabella when Grant first touched her in anger.
She resisted the question.
Not because she wanted to protect him.
Because Noah was listening.
I moved my grandson into the adjoining lounge with my bodyguard Carlo, who had known him since birth.
Then I returned.
Isabella stared at the torn flower.
“About a year ago.”
“What happened?”
“I corrected him in front of Marcus Bell.”
I knew the name.
One of Grant’s associates.
“About what?”
“He introduced me as Grant’s wife instead of Isabella Lombardi.”
I waited.
“That bothered you?”
“No.”
She looked ashamed.
“I corrected something else.”
“What?”
“He said Grant would eventually represent the Lombardi side at joint family dinners.”
My expression changed.
Grant had no such authority.
“What did you say?”
“That he represented himself.”
I almost smiled.
“That was correct.”
Isabella’s eyes filled.
“Grant didn’t think so.”
The first incident had been a wrist grab hard enough to bruise.
Then apology.
Flowers.
Silence for months.
Then another.
Always somewhere clothing covered.
Always before an event where Grant needed Isabella composed.
Vanessa scoffed.
“She provoked him.”
I looked at her.
“Explain.”
“She undermined her husband.”
I almost laughed.
“My daughter stated a fact.”
Vanessa folded her arms.
“In a marriage, loyalty comes first.”
Isabella finally looked at her.
“You mean obedience.”
Vanessa’s expression changed.
Good.
My daughter was finding words again.
Then Isabella said something I did not expect.
“Vanessa taught him how to hide the marks.”
The room went silent.
I turned toward her.
“What?”
“She brought concealer. Bracelets. Long sleeves.”
Vanessa’s face drained.
May you like
The sister had not merely known.
She had helped manage the evidence.
