Chapter 5 - The Velvet CageFor three days, Isabella lived in a state of suspended animation.
The estate was a fortress of silent efficiency. Meals were delivered by quiet servants; books appeared on her nightstand that matched her exact academic interests; and Dante, the rescued French bulldog, spent most of his days curled up at the foot of her bed, acting as her loyal, snorting shadow.
Yet, the golden cage felt heavier by the hour.
On the fourth morning, Isabella couldn't take the confinement anymore. She dressed in the soft cashmere sweater and dark jeans provided for her, stepped out of her suite, and began walking through the endless corridors of the East Wing, searching for a way out—or at least a breath of fresh air.
She followed the sound of classical music drifting through the high arches, leading her to a massive, sunlit library lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves of dark mahogany.
Lorenzo was there. He sat behind a massive oak desk, reviewing ledger sheets with a fountain pen. He looked up the moment she stepped inside, his expression softening just a fraction.
"Lost?" he asked, setting the pen down.
"I'm suffocating," Isabella answered honestly, stepping into the room. "I appreciate the safety, Lorenzo, but I can't live like a prisoner in a museum. I need to do something. I need to be useful."
Moretti leaned back, crossing his arms. "You saved Dante. That more than pays for your keep."
"I am a veterinarian, not a pet project," she shot back, stepping closer to the desk. "I spent years studying, saving lives, helping creatures that couldn't speak for themselves. Sitting in a room while men in suits guard the doors... it's driving me crazy."
A slow, dangerous smile curved the corner of Moretti's lips. "Is that so? Well, as it happens, my operations require a certain... specialized medical expertise from time to time. Men who can't go to hospitals. Animals that need care away from prying eyes."
Isabella narrowed her eyes. "What are you talking about?"
Moretti stood up, walking around the desk to stand right in front of her. "Down in the lower compound, past the kennels, I maintain a private veterinary clinic. For my dogs, my horses, and occasionally... assets that require emergency stabilization without the police getting involved. It's fully equipped. Better than the clinic you used to work in."
He tilted his head, watching her reaction. "You want to be useful? It's yours to run. But under one condition."
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"What condition?"
"You never leave these grounds without me."
