The Devil's Bride.

The house was quiet after the end of the engagement party. The guests had left, music had stopped, and there remained only a few servants patrolling the halls to clean. Isabella sat on the edge of her bed, looking down at the ring that rested on the finger of her left hand. It was weighty, even though it was not big.

The door groaned open without a knock, and Sofia came in. Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks streaked from crying.

"You don't have to do this," Sofia gasped, crossing the space towards her.

"Yes, I do," Isabella answered quietly. She didn't lift her head.

Sofia's head shook rapidly. "He scares me, Isabella. Dante isn't normal. He's not like other guys. He's deadly."

Isabella gasped for breath. "I know." She made her eyes lock with her sister's. "But I can handle him. What I can't handle is to see you thrown into Adrian's clutches. That would kill you. So please, don't fight me on this."

Sofia advanced and hugged her arms about her, hiding her face in Isabella's shoulder. "Then at least call me. Every day. I don't wish to feel like you've disappeared from my existence."

"I'll call," Isabella promised. "But you must take care too. If Father ever finds out about your taboo love, it will be the end."

Sofia hastily nodded. "I'll be silent. I swear."

The next day broke too soon. Isabella closed her bags deliberately, folding each one of her dresses carefully, though her hands trembled. While the servants were removing her trunks downstairs, Elena slipped into her room.

"Are you sure you are doing this?" Elena asked, holding her arms clasped around her body.

"Do I have a choice?" Isabella retorted bitterly, not looking up from her trunk.

"You can still escape," Elena breathed. "I'd help you."

Isabella closed the bag. "Run where? Father would track me down. Dante would track me down. There is no escape." The best she could hope for was to endure it.

Elena slumped. Her face was filled with sorrow. "Then I will wait for your call. Each night. Promise you won't close me out."

"I promise," said Isabella, embracing her.

When she finally came down the stairs, her mother was waiting at the front door. Lucia Romano enveloped Isabella in her arms at once, holding her just a fraction of a second longer than usual.

"Listen to me," her mother whispered. "I know Dante's reputation. But I think... I think he might actually love you, in his own way."

Isabella stood frozen at those words. She didn't speak. She just kissed her mother's cheek and backed away.

Outside, already waiting for her by the black car was Dante. He was looming over it, speaking to one of his men. His eyes swept over her once he saw her, as if taking inventory of something he already owned.

"Ready?" he asked.

She nodded once without looking at him.

The drive to the De Luca mansion was quiet. Dante sat beside her in the back seat, his presence heavy. Two of his men were in the front, and another car followed close behind. Isabella kept her eyes on the window, watching the city pass by.

After a while, Dante finally spoke. "You'll be safe in my house. No one touches what's mine."

She did not speak. Her hands gripped tightly together in her lap, nails biting into her skin.

When the car came to a stop, Isabella looked up at the massive gates. Behind them lay a house bigger than she had ever known. Walls of stone, wide balconies, and guards carrying weapons at every turn.

The gates creaked open, and as the car proceeded, two women stepped forward to greet them.

The first was elegant, elegant, and had a subtle strength in her movement. She was in her forties, at least. Dante kissed both cheeks before introducing her.

"This is my mother, Bianca," he declared.

Bianca's smile softened when she turned to face Isabella. She grasped Isabella's hands carefully. "Welcome, dear. You must be tired from all that. Come in, you'll be home here."

The other woman was around Isabella's age, with bright eyes and a shy smile.

"Her name is Giulia," Dante said. "She is my sister."

"You are so pretty," Giulia said, smiling, and stepped closer. "Don't be afraid. I'll make you feel home. We will have tea in the afternoons. I will present you to people."

Their friendliness caught Isabella unawares. She nodded politely, remaining a stranger.

Dante touched her lightly on the back of her neck, leading her toward the doors. Inside, the mansion was no less formidable. High ceilings with chandeliers, gleaming floors, pricey furniture, and paintings adorning the walls. It seemed perfect, but it didn't quite feel like home.

The first days went slowly. The staff was respectful to her. Bianca often asked her about her favourite dishes and sometimes stayed with her for short talks. Giulia visited her room often, inviting her to go for a walk in the garden or play some cards. She tried to make Isabella smile, and for a few minutes, Isabella forgot she was somewhere else.

But Dante's shadow never went away. At dinner, he always sat next to her. In the garden, he loitered in the background. At night, his footfalls sounded outside her door.

One evening, Isabella finally grumbled at dinner. "You don't have to monitor me every moment," she said.

Dante cut into his food, refusing to look at her. "I do." His tone was flat, authoritative. "You are mine, Isabella. If you walk away alone again, Adrian will try to take you. And the next time, you mayn't come back."

Isabella gripped her fork hard in her fingers. His warning terrified her because she knew he was correct.

Later that evening, Giulia came into the sitting room with a deck of cards. They played for more than an hour, Isabella laughing when she lost round after round. For a short time, it felt like nothing was wrong, like she wasn't a prisoner.

But when Dante walked into the room, the fantasy ended. Giulia retreated immediately, leaving them by themselves.

Dante sat across from Isabella, his eyes fixed on her. "You appear to be adjusting," he said.

"Do I have an option?" she flung at him flatly.

"No," Dante relinquished, slouching back in his chair. "But you're alive. That's something more than Adrian would offer you."

His words sat between them with heavy silence.

The days blurred together-dinner, supervised walks, quiet nights. Isabella began to notice small things about Dante. The way he commanded his men with a calm tone. The way his eyes lingered on her as if he was memorizing everything. And once in a while, when he didn't realize she was paying attention, there was something soft in his expression.

However, the cage feeling never went away from her. No matter how sweet Bianca was, no matter how sweet Giulia tried to be, Isabella knew she wasn't free.

Evening five, she walked by Dante's office when she heard feet shuffling in a hurry. One of his men walked in.

"Adrian has struck back," the man spat in a hurry.

Isabella froze in the hallway, her stomach knotting.

"What happened?" Dante snapped sharply.

The man lowered his voice, but Isabella still managed to hear the words. "It's Sofia. She's been taken."

Isabella gasped, her hand flying to her lips. She darted into the room without a thought. "What did you just say?"

Dante spun toward her, his jaw tight, his eyes shaded.

The truth was clear. Sofia was gone.