Reborn: The Lethal Ex-Wife's Bloody Return

Isabella's perspective

When I first saw them, they had already stepped out of the boutique-Damian was fastening her diamond necklace, and Seraphina tilted her head slightly to receive his kiss. Now, when I tried to pull Angelo away before they noticed, it was too late. Seraphina's gaze was fixed on us, a calculating glint in her eyes, yet her face wore a perfect, flawless smile.

She said something to Damian, tugged at his arm, and led him across the street toward us. Damian followed behind with obvious resistance, his expression icy.

By the time they reached our side of the sidewalk, I had nowhere left to retreat.

"Oh my God," Serafina said softly, her voice filled with sweet pity. She looked at Angelo's clean but faded clothes-they had been worn for three days-while deliberately keeping her distance to avoid us. "Poor child. You must have suffered a lot out there with your mother." She turned to Damian, her hand lightly resting on the front of his well-tailored suit. "My dear, shouldn't we bring Angelo back to Valenti Estate? After all, he is your heir."

Damian didn't even glance at his son. His jaw was clenched with a hint of annoyance, as if we were nothing more than a stain on the sidewalk. "Let her keep him."

These words were an irreversible death sentence for the relationship between Angelo and his son, but for Serafina, they were a revelation. I saw a subtle, triumphant shift in her eyes. She realized that Damian didn't care about the boy at all, which meant she could use another, more aggressive weapon to take him away from me.

I didn't say a word. I simply held Angelo's five-year-old hand tightly, turned around, and disappeared into the vast crowd without looking back.

An hour later, the heavy mahogany doors of the Moretti estate closed behind us. The hall was filled with the scent of old leather, cigar smoke, and an unspoken tension. Before Maria could even lead us up the stairs, a sharp whisper came from the adjacent drawing room.

"How dare she come back?" My cousin Casey's voice was venomous. "Everyone in our circle is laughing at us for taking in a woman abandoned by the Godfather. Look at her-filthy. She'll ruin my marriage prospects."

"Shut up, Casey," her sister Sophia snapped, but her face showed more weariness and resignation than a defense of me.

As I stepped into the light, Kathy turned around. Her gaze swept boldly over my dusty silk dress-the one I wore in Blackwater Creek, now wrinkled and stained-with undisguised contempt. The battle line within my own bloodline had been drawn.

Before Casey could speak again, the crisp sound of her cane hitting the ground silenced the room's clatter. My grandmother, Elena Moretti, came down the stairs. Her sharp gaze swept over my disheveled appearance, and the temperature in the room plummeted.

She waved the two girls away, leaving only my aunt, old Mrs. Moretti, standing awkwardly by the fireplace.

"My granddaughter, a direct descendant of the Moretti family, returned looking like a refugee." Elena's voice was low and imposing. "As the lady of this house, is this your standard for treating guests?"

"Mother, I didn't know they arrived so quickly-" my aunt stammered, her face flushed.

Elena interrupted her, casting a cold gaze at her aunt's personal maid, who was trembling in the corner. "Since your maid can't even do something as simple as preparing clean clothes for her mistress, then send her to the dock warehouse. Let her learn how to handle dirty goods."

My aunt turned pale, and to save face, she had no choice but to swallow her anger and nod in compliance. Elena had just drawn a red line in the sand: I am inviolable, and any disrespect will have cold consequences.

Later, Maria ran a warm bath for Angelo in our secluded suite, and I stood by the window, gazing at the Chicago skyline. With the intuition honed over those two decades of bloodshed, I knew perfectly well what was unfolding at this very moment in the Valenti family's glass penthouse.

Serafina witnessed Damian's indifference. She wouldn't pressure him. Instead, she would call that greedy, paranoid woman obsessed with the Valenti bloodline, and easily manipulated person: Damian's mother.

I could almost hear Serafina's sweet yet venomous voice through the phone, twisting the truth. The poor child is suffering... Isabella's reputation will be ruined... We cannot allow Valenti's bloodline to be raised by outsiders.

And old Lady Valenti, that easily manipulated and short-tempered woman, will surely take the bait. She will bypass Damian's authority and announce directly that she will come to Moretti Manor the next morning to reclaim her grandson.

Serafina has just fired the first shot in her custody battle, using a greedy old woman as her proxy. I turned away from the window, listening to my son's steady breathing in the next room. Tomorrow, old lady Valenti will come to seize my world, and I will be here, ready and waiting.