Chapter 2 - The Mask SlipsThe heavy mahogany doors of the east wing security suite clicked shut, sealing out the murmurs of two hundred bewildered guests.
Sunlight poured through the high Gothic windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the quiet room. At the center of the room stood Isabella Romano. Her white silk wedding gown pooled around her feet like fallen snow, and the gold combs in her hair caught the light. Yet, the angelic radiance she had worn down the garden path had completely evaporated.
Her face was locked in a hard, furious glare.
“What is the meaning of this, Alessandro?” Isabella snapped, her voice losing its melodic cadence, replaced by a sharp, acidic edge. “Guests are waiting outside. The Archbishop is standing at the altar. You pull me into a dark room because of a beggar’s brat?”
Alessandro did not flinch. He stood tall, his broad shoulders squared, his hands resting quietly inside his trouser pockets. Beside him, Marco Ricci leaned against the computer terminal, arms crossed, a cold smirk playing on his lips.
“She is not a beggar’s brat, Isabella,” Alessandro said softly, his voice dropping to a dangerous, freezing register. “She is a three-year-old child who told me the truth. A truth you spent months trying to hide behind a sweet smile and a white veil.”
Isabella’s breath hitched. For a fraction of a second, panic flickered in her dark eyes, but she quickly masked it with a theatrical laugh of disbelief.
“The truth? Are you listening to yourself, Alessandro? You’re interrogating your own bride on our wedding day based on the rambling of a kitchen maid’s bastard?” She stepped forward, her manicured hand reaching out to touch his lapel. “Someone has been poisoning your mind against me. Is it your mother? Or perhaps that wretched little maid, Sophia?”
Alessandro didn't move. He caught Isabella’s wrist mid-air.
He didn't squeeze brutally, but his grip was unyielding—an iron shackle holding her in place.
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“Don't ever speak of Sophia that way again,” Alessandro warned, his eyes narrowing into cold slits. “And don't ever touch old Antonio or threaten anyone in my household under my roof.”
Isabella’s eyes widened. The realization hit her like a physical blow: They knew. They knew everything.
