Reborn Heiress: Claimed By The Dark Don

Isabella POV

Julian’s threat of hell hung in the dead silence of the grand lobby. I looked at his flushed, furious face, and a cold, dead smile touched my lips.

I stepped a fraction of an inch out of Damien’s iron embrace—just enough to stand on my own two feet, though his large hand remained a heavy, possessive weight on my hip.

"Regret?" I echoed, my voice carrying clearly across the gleaming marble floor. "My only regret, Julian, is not realizing sooner that you are nothing but a coward who hides behind women's skirts."

Julian’s face contorted. I thought of the poison, of the child I had lost, of the treacherous alliance he had formed with my sister in my past life. I let all that venom bleed into my words. "A man who doesn't even have the spine to admit his own desires, who relies on cheap schemes and deceit to get what he wants, doesn't deserve to stand in this room."

His elegant Ivy League facade shattered completely. His face flushed a mottled, ugly red, stripped of all its aristocratic grace. Behind me, Damien let out a low, dark chuckle that vibrated against my spine. He was thoroughly enjoying the slaughter of his rival's pride.

But the amusement vanished from Damien's deep blue eyes as quickly as it came, replaced by the absolute, chilling authority of a Don.

"Silas," Damien commanded, his voice slicing through the tension. "Lock it down. Not a single fly leaves this lobby without my permission."

Instantly, the heavy brass doors were blocked by Castillo Soldiers. The ominous click of safeties being disengaged echoed from the shadows. Damien shifted his gaze to my uncle, his tone shifting to one of respectful finality. "Hector, this matter is settled. You and your men are free to go."

Hector gave me one last, long look before nodding curtly to Damien, signaling his men to stand down and exit the hotel.

Damien then turned his predatory stare back to Julian. "But you and your men, Barron... you are staying for a little 'talk'."

The New York men instinctively reached for their holsters, but they were hopelessly outgunned. Damien closed the distance between him and Julian with unhurried, lethal grace. He casually adjusted his bespoke tie, though the murderous aura radiating from him made the air in the room drop ten degrees.

"What happened today," Damien said, his voice dangerously soft, "did not happen once you walk out those doors. If I hear a single rumor about my future wife's reputation, I will personally collect the debt in Barron blood. You will swear Omertà on this right now."

Julian stared at the black muzzles of a dozen Tommy guns pointed at his chest. His jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth would shatter. Stripped of his power and his pride, he had no choice but to bow to the ruler of Chicago.

"I swear it," Julian forced the words out through gritted teeth.

Damien stepped back, dismissing him with a look of utter disgust. "Get out of my city."

Julian turned, his men falling in tightly around him. But just as he reached the revolving doors, he paused, throwing a venomous, desperate smirk over his shoulder.

"You think you've won, Isabella?" Julian spat. "Castillo can protect your body, but he can't protect your name. I took the liberty of 'inviting' your family. They should be arriving right about now to collect their disgraced daughter."

Right on cue, a pale, trembling concierge stepped forward from the desk. "Mr. Castillo... Capo Arthur Fleming and his family are here."

My heart plummeted, not out of fear, but out of a cold, sickening anticipation. Damien’s brow furrowed, his grip on my hip tightening protectively as the brass doors opened once more.

My father, Arthur, strode in, his face set in a mask of grave concern. Beside him was my mother, Eleonora, her beautiful, aristocratic face pale and etched with genuine terror. And trailing just behind them was Sophia.

She wore a pristine white dress, looking every bit the fragile, innocent angel. As soon as she saw me, she gasped, her eyes wide with fabricated horror. She rushed forward, reaching out to grab my arm.

"Sister!" Sophia cried, her voice trembling with perfect, sickening sweetness. "Are you alright? We were so worried about you!"

As I looked down at her delicate, concerned face, the opulent lobby faded away. All I could see was the damp cellar, the blood, and the agonizing pain of the poison she had slipped into my food day after day. My sweet, venomous sister. She thought she was playing a brilliant game, completely unaware that I remembered every single sin she had committed.