Chapter 8 - The New ArrivalThat evening, back at the Duca estate, the grand hall looked entirely different. The remnants of Isabella’s ruined birthday party had been completely cleared away, replaced by fresh white roses and warm lighting.
Isabella was sitting at the grand piano in the corner, practicing her scales under the gentle supervision of Grace, who now wore a sharp, professional blazer instead of a maid's apron—having officially transitioned into Lorenzo’s chief financial auditor and confidential secretary.
On the Persian rug nearby, little Emma was building a towering castle out of wooden blocks.
The front heavy doors opened, and Lorenzo walked in, removing his coat and handing it to the butler.
Isabella immediately jumped off the piano bench and ran toward him, shouting, “Daddy!”
Lorenzo scooped her up into his arms, burying his face in her dark curls, squeezing her tight as if he could still feel the phantom terror of what almost happened three nights ago.
“Did you practice your piano, Izzy?” he asked softly, setting her down.
“Yes! And Miss Grace taught me a new song!” Isabella beamed, then grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the rug. “Daddy, look! Emma built a skyscraper, but she needs a king for the top tower!”
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Lorenzo looked down at Emma, who handed him a small, carved wooden king piece with wide, trusting eyes.
He knelt down on the rug—right there on the marble floor where he usually commanded armies and settled blood feuds—and carefully placed the king piece at the apex of the wooden blocks.
