"Listen carefully Valasco," Giovanni said, pacing leisurely.
" I'll give u two options.
1: You will give me that file and I'll give u ur girls ."
Or
" 2: You will choose one woman for me to release, and the other one will be the price of that file."
My heart stopped. Cristian's breathing quickened through the speaker. "W-What?"
"You heard me," Giovanni repeated. "I save one. You come for the other later… if she survives." I shut my eyes tight. Plz, for god's sake pick me.
"Choose wisely, husband! Your girl or ur wife"
Giovanni added, the voice dripping with provocation. Veronica immediately started crying. "Cri..Cristian, please! Please don't leave me here! Please!"
I said nothing. I had no strength to beg, no longer. Cristian swore on the line, "Giovanni, you insane bastard—!"
"Choose," Giovanni snapped, the longest second of my life.
I already knew… I already knew who he'd pick. And still I waited-once more pathetically hopeful. "Fine," Cristian finally said, his voice shaking.
"I choose—"
My heart slammed against my ribs. I told my heart don't gather false hopes.
"V—Veronica." The world cracked. My breath caught, my vision blurred. I didn't hear the rest of his words because a sharp ringing filled my ears. I knew this would happen. I knew, It was always hers.
But the regret that sliced through me wasn't just his betrayal—it was the burning truth that I never got to give him those divorce papers. Not even that last shred of dignity.
My head bowed forward, tears slipping silently down my chin and hitting the dusty floor. My chest felt carved open. A soft, broken sound escaped me.
Veronica smirked triumphantly. "See? Even he knows you are useless." She turned to Giovanni. "Why keep her Mr. Hot? There's no profit in this one, no one will come for her, she is a orphan." I didn't reply. My entire mind was hung on one thought. If I could have given him the papers. The phone clicked, Cristian hung up.
(Giovanni)
The line went dead, and I stared at the phone for a full second in a daze. In fact, he chose the other woman, not his wife. Rather, not the bleeding, bruised, hospital-banded woman. The one he promised to protect? I didn't expect marriage is funny to people like Valasco.
An ugly laugh escaped me, "Madonna mia," I muttered. "I knew he was a fool, but this? This is impressive."
Isabella didn't speak. She didn't look up. Just trembled silently, tears dripping onto the floor as if she didn't even realize she was crying.
Veronica's voice grated against my skull. "So, can I go? Cristian will be here soon, right? Isabella's always been a burden—"
"Open your mouth again Strega(witch)," I said coldly, "and I'll sew it shut."
I moved toward Isabella. Slowly, carefully. Something about her silence… unsettled me. I'd seen fear, anger, desperation—but this? This was pure heartbreak. The kind that hollowed a person out. I crouched down beside her, fingers gripping her chin to lift her face. She tried to hide, but I didn't let her. Her eyes were red, ruined, empty.
"He chose her," I said quietly. She recoiled like I'd stabbed her. And it bugged me."You didn't even fight," I murmured. "Why?"
She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just… wanted to give him the papers." Papers?
"What papers?"
She blinked, dazed. "The divorce papers. I… I had them. In my bag." Finally, clarity. This woman hadn't been fighting for love. She'd been fighting for closure. And he wasn't even giving her that.
A cold anger stirred in my chest. Not for her husband—Cristian was insignificant—but for the way she broke without noise, without resistance. Like she'd been trained to endure betrayal silently.
Pathetic man.
I stood abruptly. "Take Veronica to the south storage room," I ordered my men. "Tie her to a post. Make sure she doesn't talk." Veronica wailed, "Wait—NO! Cristian said he's coming! Giovanni, you psycho—!"
Aidan dragged her out before she could finish. I turned back to Isabella, who looked more confused than relieved. "And her?" Ivan asked, nodding at Isabella. I stared down at her. Her trembling hands, her bowed head, the woman Cristian threw away.
"She stays with me," I said. "Untie her." Ivan hesitated. "But—" "Untie, her." He obeyed. When the ropes fell away, Isabella didn't move. Just watched her freed wrists like she didn't know what freedom meant. I stepped closer, letting my shadow fall over her. "Isabella,"
(Isabella)
My wrists are free, but somehow I feel more trapped than before. Giovanni stands in front of me—tall, broad, carved from violence and shadows—watching me like I'm some puzzle he can't solve. His cold eyes burn into me with a strange intensity, as though he's trying to read every unspoken thought I'm desperately keeping locked inside. Cristian's voice still echoes in my head.
"I choose Veronica." My chest aches. The hate I tried to bury rises like poison. I don't speak it aloud, I can't, not to a stranger who kidnapped me. But inside me, silently— I hate Cristian. I hate him for choosing her, always. I hate him for lying. I hate him for making me hope even when I shouldn't.
Giovanni tilts his head slightly, noticing something as small as the tremble in my hands. "Are you going to speak, Bella?" he asks, voice smooth, deep, disturbing my thoughts. I breathe in slow. "There's no use in keeping me."
His eyebrow arches. "No use?"
"He won't come for me, never" I state matter-of-factly.
(To be continued...…)