"Are you out of your freaking mind?" Isabella's voice cut through the wind.
Diego turned, startled.
"I thought you were a brave man," she continued as she walked toward him. "But I guess I was wrong. How can you even say something like that?"
She placed a gentle hand on his back, her touch steady despite the storm in her eyes. "What's going on with you, Diego? Talk to me. I promise you—there's no problem on this earth that can't be solved… except death."
Diego lifted his head. His voice cracked. "It's like I'm cursed."
Isabella stiffened. "Why would you say that?" Her gaze sharpened. "So if my boys hadn't seen you… you would've harmed yourself?"
He froze. Shock rippled through him. He stepped back slowly, as if the words themselves had pushed him.
"Didn't I tell you I don't need your protection?" he snapped. "I said I can take care of myself."
Isabella smiled faintly, though there was no warmth in it. She reached into her pocket. "Calm down." She pulled out a packet of cigarettes and offered him one.
"No," Diego said, shaking his head. "I don't smoke."
She lit one for herself, inhaled deeply, and blew the smoke into the open sky.
"Really?" she said dryly. "I see how well you take care of yourself. Then how were you robbed?"
Diego clenched his jaw. "It's not like your boys stopped it either."
Her eyes darkened.
"Diego, everything I do, I do for your good. You should appreciate my efforts," she said sharply. "If my boys hadn't informed me of your location, you would've harmed yourself. Instead of thanking me, you're swelling up with pride. You're starting to lose it."
Diego blinked, rubbing his forehead. His shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry."
"I don't care," Isabella snapped. "I thought I was helping a friend. But clearly, you can take care of yourself. You're just looking for someone to vent your frustration on."
"Isabella—"
She turned away. "Don't kill yourself, Diego. Think of your mother."
Then she left.
Diego watched her descend the hill, the wind tugging at her hair. A faint smile touched his lips despite the ache in his chest.
"This girl… this bitch is one hell of a bad girl," he murmured. "I hope to see you again, beauty. I'm truly sorry."
Isabella left with Angel, instructing her men to continue keeping an eye on Diego.
Later that night, Isabella sat alone and opened a slim file she had taken from Demelo's mansion during the rescue mission. Inside were contacts—U.S.-based associates tied to Demelo's drug operations.
One by one, she made the calls.
She proposed new partnerships for drugs, firearms, and safer delivery routes. She spoke with confidence, authority, and precision. She knew the tunnel routes. She knew the risks. More importantly, she knew how to convince men who believed they were untouchable.
When she finished, she leaned back and waited patiently for the sun to rise.
That morning, she called her father.
"Dad, our first shipment to the U.S. will be next week. Five million dollars."
Mateo chuckled. "That's my daughter. How did you pull that off?"
"You don't need to know," she replied coolly.
"How will the goods get to the client without attracting danger?"
"Leave that to me. I have it all figured out."
There was a pause, then approval.
"Alright, let's prepare the goods. We'll finalize after the contract is signed."
Before evening came, Mateo received a call from the U.S.----clients requesting his presence at their base to sign the contract.
He was thrilled—though uneasy that they wanted him to come instead of sending their own representatives.
He began planning, arming himself carefully.
Isabella kicked against the idea.
"It's risky," she warned.
Mateo smiled. "I'm up to the task."
Diego spent the night on the mountains. Isabella's men kept their distance but never lost sight of him.
By morning, he returned home, exhausted. He rested briefly before preparing for school.
As he buttoned his shirt, a knock echoed through the room.
The landlord stood at the door.
"I hope you know why I'm here," the man said coldly.
"Yes, sir. Please hear me out—"
"Shut up, lazy boy. You can't even pay your rent."
"What's going on here?" Isabella's voice cracked from behind.
The landlord turned. "He owes one thousand five hundred dollars."
Isabella raised an eyebrow. "Is that all?"
"Wait—what are you doing?" Diego asked as she pulled out cash.
"I'm helping you from this crazy landlord," she said calmly.
"I don't need your help."
"Oh! Oh!" The landlord seized the money eagerly. "Infant Madame, you can pay for two more months in advance."
Diego glared at him. "Get out. You have your rent."
The landlord left immediately.
"I'm sorry," Isabella began. "I—"
"You're always sorry after messing up my life," Diego snapped.
I just wanted to help you. She turned and walked away.
"Isabella—" Diego called.
But she didn't stop.
Diego attended lectures with Bruce, his mind was distracted while in class. After class, he rushed to the hospital to see his mother. Fear gnawed at him—since he had no money, no plan, no answers for the doctors.
As he approached the ward, his heart sank.
"Diego," the doctor said warmly, "your mother is improving. Thank goodness you were able to pay the bills. We administered more medication."
"What?" Diego froze. "Paid the bills? Who did?"
"A lady came. She said you sent her. She paid for another week and promised to cover the rest if needed."
Diego swallowed hard. "Why would she do that?" he whispered. "I'll have to pay her back."
"Can I see my mother?"
"Yes—but only from the glass door."
He watched as his mother slept, breathing through an oxygen tube. Relief and guilt tangled in his chest.
He stepped outside, determined to hustle—to raise money, to repay every cent. He couldn't bear owing the woman he loved.
Then he stood surprised,
Isabella stood right there.
"Hello, handsome," she said softly. "Where to?"
"What are you doing here? I thought you were angry with me this morning."
"Why did you pay my mom's hospital bills without telling me?"
"If I had told you I wanted to help, would you have accepted?" she asked.
"Well… but—"
"But what?"
"Please let me help you. You're my friend now."
"I don't want to take advantage of that."
"Oh, you are," she laughed. "Completely."
They both laughed, tension dissolving.
"The past few days have been horrible," she said. "Let's go for a walk. There's a park nearby."
His heart skipped. "Yes. Of course, my beauty."
She blushed.
While they walked, Diego saw something suspicious — a man in black leaning on a motorcycle, staring too hard. Another man across the street is doing the same. His panic returned — heavy and sharp.
"Isabella…" he whispered nervously. "I think someone is watching us."
She didn't turn. She just slipped her hand into his — steady, and firm.
"They're mine," she whispered. "Relax."
They're hers?
It hit him again — she lived in a world where being followed was just… normal.
"Why do you have guards?" he asked quietly.
"Because if I didn't," she murmured, "you would've already died."
Diego stared at her — protectiveness mixed with fear. And maybe… wonder.
The park shimmered with life—children laughing, fruit vendors calling out, a guitarist playing softly, couples holding hands. Diego relaxed for the first time since the shooting.
They bought vanilla ice cream. Isabella wrinkled her nose after one bite. "What is this? Ice cream or toothpaste?" she scoffed.
Diego laughed, loud and genuine.
"It tastes like soap and regret," she added.
He laughed harder, nearly choking. People stared. He didn't care.
For a moment, he wasn't afraid.
For a moment, Isabella wasn't a cartel princess.
They were just two young adults sharing ice cream in the sun.
She dropped him off later that evening.
"When do we meet again?" Diego asked.
"You're a good person," Isabella said. "Don't let your problems change who you are."
She left.
Diego lingered around to watch her as they drove away. While Isabella looked at Diego through the side mirror until she could no longer see him.
Angel glanced at her through the mirror. "You've been quiet for someone who defeated six men in one night." He teased her.
"I'm thinking," she muttered.
"Of him?"
She scoffed. "I don't think about boys. They think about me."
Angel smiled knowingly.
She looked at her phone.
A message flashed on the screen:
Come home now. Only you can stop him. Hurry up.
From Ricardo.