Chapter 8
Isabella sat down.
Not because she was weak.
Because six years of memory had just changed shape.
The gala.
The flowers.
Grant appearing at the restaurant she liked.
The weekend at Lake Como.
The proposal.
Every coincidence now had Luca behind it.
Grant said:
“It stopped being a plan.”
Isabella looked at him.
“When?”
He opened his mouth.
Nothing.
“When did you love me?”
Silence.
Vanessa rolled her eyes.
“Do we really need romance therapy during a family crisis?”
I turned.
“You created the crisis.”
“No.”
She smiled.
“We created an alliance.”
Isabella stared.
“My marriage.”
“Same thing in our world.”
“No.”
My daughter’s voice steadied.
“Not to me.”
Good.
Grant stepped forward.
“I did love you.”
She looked at her wrist.
“You still did this.”
He said nothing.
Noah clutched the remains of one tissue petal.
I hated that he was listening.
But I would not send him away until he wanted to leave.
Adults had made too many decisions around him already.
I called my security chief.
“Bring Luca.”
Vanessa laughed.
“He won’t come.”
“Why?”
“He knows.”
“What?”
“That you found the pedestal.”
My head turned.
“How?”
Her smile disappeared.
Another slip.
Someone had warned him.
Internal leak beyond Luca.
I called immediately.
“Close all showroom exits.”
My guard answered:
“Boss, Luca left eleven minutes ago.”
“Who cleared him?”
Pause.
“Matteo Ross.”
My senior lieutenant.
Twenty-four years.
My father’s closest surviving friend.
I closed my eyes once.
Grant smiled.
“There.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Your perfect family.”
He almost sounded pleased.
I stepped closer.
“You think another man’s betrayal cleans yours?”
“No.”
He stared at Isabella.
“But maybe she’ll stop acting like I invented deception.”
My daughter whispered:
“You hit our son.”
Grant’s face hardened.
“I disciplined him.”
“You bruised me.”
“You fought me.”
“You starved him.”
“One meal.”
“You used us against my father.”
He finally shouted:
“Because your father never gave me anything!”
Silence.
There.
The wound.
Not love.
Not marriage.
Resentment.
I looked at him.
“You thought marrying Isabella entitled you to my organization.”
Grant breathed hard.
Then answered:
May you like
“Yes.”
And Noah began crying because his father had finally said the part every adult had been pretending not to hear.
