Chapter 2 - The Fall of the House of Romano
The fallout from the gala was immediate, but not in the way Isabella had expected. She awoke the next morning in the cramped Queens apartment she shared with her aging mother, only to be greeted by the sound of shouting.
Livia and her father, Isabella’s Uncle Gianni, were standing in the small living room. Livia’s face was red, her eyes swollen from crying.
"You ruined everything!" Livia screamed the moment Isabella walked out of her bedroom wearing an oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants. "The Moretti family sent a letter this morning. They rejected our marriage alliance proposal completely! Marco told my father that because of your... your disgusting display on the floor, our family is a laughingstock!"
Gianni Romano, a man who had spent his life trying to gamble his way into the mafia’s good graces, slammed his hand on the kitchen table. "You foolish girl! Do you know how much money I owed to the Moretti loan sharks? That marriage was supposed to wipe the debt clean! Now, they want their money by the end of the week, or they take the house and my shop!"
Isabella felt a cold dread settle in her stomach. "Uncle Gianni, his leg was going to lock. He would have fallen in front of everyone. I saved him from humiliation."
"You threw yourself at a monster to show off!" Livia spat, stepping close to Isabella, her thin frame trembling with rage. "Look at you! You honestly thought a man like Alessio Moretti would look at a fat, pathetic seamstress like you? You’re nothing but a charity case in this family! We gave you a place to live, we let you alter our clothes, and you stab us in the back!"
"Livia, that's enough," Isabella’s mother, Maria, said, stepping out of the kitchen with a frail hand raised. She had severe arthritis and had been taken in by Gianni after Isabella’s father passed away.
"No, it's not enough!" Gianni roared. "You want to play the hero, Isabella? Fine. You can pay the price. You and your mother have until tonight to pack your things. Get out of my house."
"Uncle Gianni, please," Isabella whispered, her throat tightening. "My mother needs her medication. We have nowhere to go."
"Then you should have thought about that before you put your fat hands on the Don’s leg," Livia sneered, turning her back.
By 6:00 p.m., Isabella found herself sitting on the front stoop of the brownstone, two battered suitcases at her feet and her mother sitting wrapped in a blanket beside her. The autumn air was turning bitterly cold. Isabella had exactly forty-two dollars in her bank account. Her freelance tailoring business brought in barely enough for groceries, and all her steady clients were friends of Livia’s—friends who had already blocked her number by noon.
"I'm sorry, Mamma," Isabella said, a single tear slipping down her round cheek. "I thought I was doing the right thing."
Maria squeezed her daughter's hand. "Your father always said, Bella... a person who cures pain is never truly poor. God will provide."
Right then, a long, sleek black Cadillac Escalade pulled up to the curb. The tinted windows were completely opaque. The door opened, and Dante, the massive bodyguard from the gala, stepped out. He wore a perfectly tailored suit, but the bulk of a shoulder holster was visible beneath his jacket.
Isabella instantly stood up, moving defensively in front of her mother. "If you're here to collect my uncle's debt, we don't have it. He threw us out."
Dante didn't look aggressive. In fact, his expression was entirely professional, almost respectful. He opened the rear door of the SUV.
"Signorina Romano," Dante said, bowing his head slightly. "Don Moretti requests your presence at the Moretti Estate in Long Island. A vehicle has been prepared for your mother to go to the private Moretti clinic in Manhattan for her medical needs. The Don requires a new personal therapist and tailor. He pays fifty thousand dollars a month, starting today."
Isabella stared at him, stunned. "Fifty thousand? To do what?"
"To make him walk again," Dante replied simply. "And to make sure no one ever sees him fall."
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Isabella looked at her mother, whose breathing was labored in the cold air, then back at the luxurious, warm interior of the SUV. The family that had mocked her for having nothing had thrown her to the wolves. The man everyone feared was offering her an empire.
"Let me get my mother into the medical car first," Isabella said, her voice hardening with a newfound resolve. "Then take me to the Don."
