Death And Proposal

Isabella's hand trembled as she turned up the volume on the television, the news anchor's voice a cold monotone that sent chills down her spine.

"Arturo Moretti, a well-known industrialist, was found brutally murdered in his villa late last night" the anchor announced, the words slicing through the quiet morning.

The screen displayed images of the crime scene—a sprawling estate now swarmed with police and forensic teams. Isabella froze, her heart pounding.

"Authorities have described the scene as particularly gruesome. Mr. Moretti was tied to a chair in his study, showing clear signs of prolonged torture before his death. Deep lacerations marred his arms and legs, and his fingernails had been ripped out."

Isabella's stomach churned, her throat tightening.

The anchor's voice grew graver. "His face was disfigured, his jaw shattered, and his teeth forcibly removed. The fatal wound...a precise slash across his throat was the final act in what appears to be a calculated and personal killing. Above the body, a message was written in blood: 'Touch what's mine, and this will be your fate.'"

Isabella's chest tightened, her breath coming in short gasps. She knew. She didn't need confirmation. There was only one man capable of such ruthless precision, and the message was unmistakably his.

Dante Vitale. Il Diavolo.

Her mind raced, torn between horror at the violence and an overwhelming sense of relief. Arturo was gone.....erased from her life in the most permanent way possible. But what unsettled her even more was her lack of remorse. She didn't feel an ounce of empathy for the man who had loomed over her like a shadow, threatening her future.

Her relief felt wrong, but she couldn't shake it.

"What's wrong with me?" she whispered, her voice cracking.

The grainy footage shifted to paramedics wheeling a body bag out of the villa. Blood stained the steps leading to the door, a stark reminder of the brutality that had unfolded.

The sound of heavy footsteps storming into the room yanked Isabella back to reality. Marco Romano's face was flushed with fury as he slammed the remote onto the coffee table.

"Do you see what you've done?" he roared, his voice echoing through the house.

Isabella flinched, her hands gripping the armrest of the couch. "I didn't do anything!" she protested weakly.

"You didn't?" Marco's laugh was bitter, venomous. "That man was our salvation! He was going to fix everything, and now he's dead!"

"I didn't ask for this!" Isabella shot back, her voice trembling.

Marco advanced on her, his anger radiating off him in waves. "You think I don't know who's behind this? You think I don't see it? This is because of you! Everything you touch turns to ash!"

"I didn't—"

"Don't lie to me!" Marco's hand shot out, gripping her arm tightly. His face was twisted with rage, his knuckles whitening.

"Let me go!" Isabella struggled against his grip, fear flaring in her chest.

Before he could say another word, Marco's phone rang. He released her with a shove and snatched the phone off the table.

"What?" he barked into the receiver.

Isabella rubbed her arm, her eyes darting toward the door.

Marco's face paled as the person on the other end spoke. "No, that's impossible… What do you mean? The accounts were secure… Who authorized the audits?" His voice cracked with desperation.

Isabella watched as the color drained from her father's face. His hand clutched the back of a chair as if to steady himself.

"Pull the files! I want names!" Marco bellowed before slamming the phone down.

He turned to Isabella, his expression murderous. "Do you see what you've done?!"

"What?" Isabella's voice was barely above a whisper, her heart pounding in her chest.

"My business! Everything is falling apart because of you!" Marco's face twisted with fury as he stepped toward her.

Isabella backed away, her hands raised defensively. "I didn't do anything!"

"You didn't?" Marco snarled. "Don't play innocent with me! This is because of that man!"

Her breath hitched. Dante.

"I don't know how he's involved" she stammered, "but I didn't—"

"Liar!" Marco's voice boomed as he lunged forward, grabbing her arm with bruising force.

"Let me go!" Isabella cried, struggling against his grip.

"You're just like your mother—weak and useless!" Marco spat, his grip tightening. His free hand raised as if to strike her, his rage blinding him to reason.

Isabella squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the impact. But it never came.

A thunderous voice echoed through the room.

"Touch her again, and you'll lose that hand."

Isabella's eyes snapped open, and her heart leapt into her throat. Standing in the doorway was Dante Vitale, his presence commanding and terrifying. Matteo and two other men stood behind him, their expressions cold and unreadable.

Marco's grip loosened, and he took a shaky step back. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice cracking.

Dante stepped forward, his gaze never leaving Marco. "You've crossed a line, Romano."

"She's my daughter" Marco spat, though his voice lacked its usual conviction.

Dante's lips curled into a dark smile, but his eyes were cold. "And now, she's my concern."

Marco glared at him, though the fear in his eyes was unmistakable. "What do you want?"

Dante's tone was calm, almost conversational. "To save you from your own stupidity."

Marco's fists clenched. "I don't need your help."

Dante raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Really? Because from where I'm standing, you're drowning. Your business is under investigation, your assets are frozen, and your allies are abandoning you."

Marco's jaw tightened.

"You have two choices" Dante continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Lose everything or accept my offer."

"What offer?" Marco asked through gritted teeth.

Dante glanced at Isabella, his gaze softening for a brief moment before turning back to Marco. "You want to marry her off so desperately? Marry her to me."

The room fell into a heavy silence.

Isabella's breath caught, her mind reeling. She looked at Dante, her eyes wide with shock. "What?"

Marco laughed bitterly. "And why would I do that?"

Dante took another step closer, his voice a low growl. "Because I can make your problems disappear. But only if she becomes mine."

Marco stared at him, his face pale. "And if I refuse?"

Dante's smile vanished, replaced by a cold, menacing expression. "Then I'll destroy you completely. Piece by piece."

Isabella felt like the ground had been ripped out from under her. Her father was considering selling her off to a man he clearly feared—a man who exuded danger with every breath.

"You can't do this" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Marco turned to her, his face a mix of fear and anger. "Stay out of this, Isabella."

Dante's gaze softened as he looked at her. "Micia" he said quietly, the nickname sending a shiver down her spine. "Trust me."

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "I don't even know you."

"You don't need to" Dante said, his tone firm but not unkind. "All you need to know is that I won't let anyone hurt you. Not him. Not anyone."

Her lip quivered, but she didn't respond.

Dante turned back to Marco. "We'll finalize the details tomorrow. Don't make me regret giving you this chance."

With that, he turned and walked out, his men following closely behind.

Isabella sank onto the couch, her mind spinning. She didn't know whether to feel relieved or terrified.

Marco paced the room, muttering under his breath. "I won't let him control me" he growled. "I'll find a way out of this."

But Isabella knew better. Dante Vitale wasn't a man who made empty threats.

In her heart, she knew that her life had just changed forever.