Isabelle

| ARIANNA |

The warmth of the sunlight kissed my skin as I stirred awake, stretching lazily against the silk sheets. For a moment, I let the comfort sink in. The rare luxury of waking up without urgency. My body still ached in places. A dull reminder of past wounds, but pain was a familiar companion. It was nothing I couldn't handle.

After a long, hot shower, I wrapped myself in a sleek satin robe, letting the fabric glide against my skin as I walked downstairs. The house was quiet, deep and untouched as if the world was holding its breath. Like the world was waiting for something to happen.

As I reached the kitchen, I reached out for the aged red. Pouring myself a glass without a second thought. The rich, velvety aroma curled into the air as I swirled the liquid, watching the deep crimson coat the glass. I took a slow sip, letting the taste settle on my tongue. A rare indulgence that reminded me of control, of power.

And yet, my mind wandered to

Marcello Dante.

I exhaled through my nose, resting my elbow against the cool marble counter as I twirled the stem of the glass between my fingers.

Why did he help me that night?

The question had nestled itself deep in my mind, an irritation I couldn't shake. He had no reason to. No leverage. No debt to repay. If anything, he should have done the opposite. Walked away, let me bleed out, rid himself of someone like me. But he didn't. He stayed and he helped.

Foolish. Reckless.

But something about it. About him that bothered me more than I cared to admit. I took another sip of my wine, pushing the thought away. It doesn't matter. He doesn't matter.

As I savor the peace and my favourite wine in one time, my phone rang in my satin robe pocket. I sigh. Great. Now I can sense this should be the problem. I set my glass down and pick it up.

"What ?"

"Boss, we have a problem." Luca's voice came sharp through the speaker.

Of course we did. "Speak."

"The warehouse. Someone sold us out."

My fingers tightened around the phone.

"Be specific."

"The money's gone. All of it. And the clients just called and demand a compensation. Otherwise, he would no longer trust us in any business he do."

And there's silence between us. I didn't move, didn't react. At least not outwardly. But my mind sharpened instantly, cutting through the haze of morning peace like a blade. Gone. Billions gone and now the clients want a compensation that I don't know how much.

I turned around, crossing the room with slow, measured steps before slid open my laptop. My fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard, pulling up the balance. And then I saw it.

A long, controlled exhale left my lips. I stared at the numbers. A blank slate. A void. Then, with a sharp snap, I shut the laptop.

"Who the fuck is behind this ?"

"We're still tracking-"

"I don't want excuses Gab." My voice was cold, razor-edged. "I want names."

He hesitated. "We're closing in. But, Boss... it wasn't an outside job. It was one of ours."

The muscles in my jaw tightened.

"I'll be there in ten. Make sure you found who is that before I got there." I said flatly and ended the call.

The moment of quiet was gone, shattered like glass. I reached for my glass of wine. but this time, I didn't drink it. Instead, I turned on my heel and headed upstairs to change.

There is a traitor among us. And they were about to learn what it meant to steal from me.

The city rushed past in streaks of sunlit concrete and glass as I pressed down on the gas, weaving through traffic with practiced ease. The low growl of the engine filled the silence, matching the steady pulse of irritation thrumming beneath my skin.

A billion-dollar loss. Because of one man's greed. I don't need his excuses. Didn't care what desperate, foolish thought had made him believe he could steal from me.

My phone rang again. I quickly swiped to answer when I saw Gab name.

"Straight."

"We found him." His voice came through, sharp and clipped.

My fingers curled tighter around the wheel.

"Who is it ?"

"Jack. The bastard didn't even run. Looks like he was waiting for someone. Probably his buyer."

A bitter chuckle left my lips. Should have seen that coming. He's the one who always escaped on the business meeting. Bold. Or just stupid. I pushed harder on the gas, weaving between slower cars.

"Keep him breathing until I get there. No one touches him but me."

Gab hesitated. "Boss, I don't think he understands what he's done. He's acting like it's just business, like you'll let him explain."

I exhaled slowly, my lips curling in something that wasn't quite a smile.

"Then let's remind him exactly who he stole from."

I end the call, my focus narrowing as the warehouse loomed closer. He had made a choice. Now, he have to face the consequences.

When I arrive at the warehouse, it was dimly lit. The scent of oil and metal thick in the air. My boots echoed against the concrete floor as I stepped inside, my gaze locking onto the group of men gathered near the center. My men. They parted at my approach, revealing the traitor kneeling in the middle, his hands tied behind his back, blood staining his once-expensive suit. He was trembling, but trying to put on a brave face. Foolish.

His swollen eyes flickered up to me, and he forced a weak smile.

"Boss," he rasped, his voice hoarse from whatever interrogation my men had already put him through. "I can explain-"

"Then start talking." I stopped in front of him, tilting my head slightly.

He swallowed hard. "It wasn't personal, just business. I had an opportunity-"

I crouched down, leveling my gaze with his.

"Business? You cost me billions. You put a crack in my reputation. You think they will trust me after this?"

He shook his head quickly, desperation creeping into his expression.

"It was a mistake! I thought I could handle it, I- I was going to replace the money ! I swear, I had a plan!"

I exhaled sharply, standing up and circling him like a predator.

"A plan ? To betray me ? To steal from me and sell to my enemies ? Tell me, did they offer you something better ? More money ? Protection ?" My voice was calm, almost amused, but every word dripped with ice.

He flinched at the accusation. "No- no, boss, I swear, I wasn't siding with them! I just- I got greedy. I made a mistake. But you know me ! You know I've been loyal for years ! Please, Arianna, let me make this right."

I stopped abruptly, my eyes narrowing.

"You dare to call me by my name now?" My voice was dangerously low, carrying an unspoken warning.

His face paled instantly, fear flashing in his eyes. "I- I didn't mean-"

I stepped closer, looming over him.

"When you needed my trust, you called me boss. When you needed my protection, you called me boss. But now that you've betrayed me, now that you're on your knees, suddenly I'm Arianna to you ?" I leaned in slightly.

"Tell me, does that make you feel closer to me ? Like I might spare you ?"

He swallowed hard, struggling to form words. "No- I mean- please. I didn't mean any disrespect, boss. I just- "

I scoffed, shaking my head. "You're pathetic."

I pulled my gun from its holster, the weight familiar in my hand. "Then tell me. Why should I let you live ?"

Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken truths. He knew the answer. He had nothing to offer me that could undo his betrayal.

"Boss, please," he whispered, voice cracking. "I have a family- "

I pulled the trigger before he could finish.

The sharp crack of the gunshot echoed through the warehouse and his body slumped forward, lifeless. The scent of gunpowder mixed with the metallic tang of blood filling the air. I didn't flinch. I didn't need to hear any more excuses. Betrayal was met with one thing. Consequence.

I exhaled slowly and turned to my men. "Clean this up. Make sure it sends a message."

Without another word, I walked out of the warehouse, shoving the gun back into my holster. I needed a breath of something other than blood and betrayal.

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel as I pulled away from the warehouse, the weight of everything that had just unfolded pressing down on me. Domenico's words last night still echoed in my mind, his frustration feeding the tight coil in my chest. And today, another betrayal. Another problem to deal with.

Exhaling slowly, I tried to shake off the lingering tension, but something nagged at the edge of my thoughts. Something I had forgotten.

Then it hit me.

The parchment.

Instinct took over. I reached over for the dashboard compartment, flipping it open without taking my eyes off the road. My fingers brushed over a few loose papers, rifling through them. Nothing.

I frowned, glancing down briefly as I searched again. Still nothing.

Where the hell did it go?

I replayed the last time I'd seen it. I had tucked it away after reading the address. But now, it was gone. A sharp frustration prickled at the back of my mind. If someone else had found it...

No. It didn't matter. I had glanced at the address earlier. I hadn't memorized it perfectly, but I remembered enough.

My decision was made. There was no point in going home first. The longer I delayed, the more it would eat at me. I need a self defense book for my new skill. It was written by a famous kung fu master in the world. And it is limited edition. I went to bought it last year but it already sold out. So I can't miss it this time.

The city blurred past as I drove, industrial streets gradually giving way to something quieter. I know the bookstore district had a different atmosphere. Cozy and almost inviting. And it will instantly make the tension in my chest loosened slightly.

Then, I saw it. Nestled between two larger buildings, the bookstore was easy to miss if you weren't looking for it because its modest sign barely noticeable. I pulled into a nearby parking space, my thoughts still restless but focused. 

The small bell above the bookstore door chimed softly as I stepped inside. The scent of old pages and freshly brewed coffee wrapped around me like a comfort I rarely allowed myself.

I shouldn't be here. I had work to do. But the thought of the book making me can't sit still and just for once, I wanted a moment-just a moment-to be someone else. To be Isabelle Romano, the girl who loved books and didn't have blood on her hands. More different to Arianna who has a boring life about business.

I moved toward the shelves, fingers trailing along the spines of novels, trying to lose myself in the moment. But then, I felt it-the distinct weight of someone's gaze.

I ignored it.

Finally I found the book. 'The Art of Survival'. Just published 3 weeks ago. I pick it up and flipping the pages absentmindedly. As I flip through it, I notices a small, faded annotations in the margins, training tips, reminders and observations about combat techniques. At first, they seem like harmless notes.

But then, one message stands out. The ink is slightly darker, the handwriting more deliberate:

"The enemy you fear is closer than you think. Trust no one."

A chill runs down my spine as I rereads the words. And I go through another page.

But then from the corner of my eyes, I see the presence moved closer to me. But still, I ignored it.

"You know, it's rude to ignore someone when they're trying to get your attention." 

My fingers tensed around the book. I knew that voice. That damn voice.

I turned the page, pretending I didn't heard him.

"Fine," Marcello's voice was full of amusement. 

"Isabelle Romano."

I froze.

Slowly, I turned my head, meeting his gaze. He grinned, holding up a small folded parchment. My parchment. The one that search for earlier. How did he get it ? This damn Marcello are so fucking annoying right now.

"Surprise," he said, tilting his head with a smirk. "I know your name."

"You shouldn't go through people's things." My voice came out in sharp tone.

"And you should be more careful if you want your secret to stay safe," he countered smoothly, stepping closer. 

"Leaving little clues like this lying around ? Come on, Isabelle." He smirk.

"It's just an address. You're making a big deal out of nothing." I said flatly.

"Am I ?" He leaned against the bookshelf. 

"What if I wanted to see if you were okay? You did just disappear on me."

I inhaled sharply but didn't turn around. "It doesn't matter."

"It does to me."

I clenched my jaw. "Stay out of my business, agent."

"Okay." But he didn't move.

I shot him a glare, frustration bubbling inside me. His eyes held something unreadable, something too knowing. I turned on my heel and strode toward the door. The book that I hold, I put back on it shelf.

The bell chimed as I stepped outside, hoping for fresh air. But I was wrong. I heard footsteps followed me from behind.

"Where are you going?" Marcello's voice was teasing behind me.

I didn't answer, picking up my pace.

"Oh, come on, Isabelle, don't be shy." His tone was full of humor. "What, are you running away from me now ?"

I stopped abruptly, spinning to face him. "What do you want from me?"

"I just want to make friends." He put his hands up in mock innocence.

I scoffed. "We are not friends and we are nothing."

His smile didn't fade. "That's a little harsh, don't you think ?"

I took a step closer, my voice lowering. 

"Listen to me, agent. Stop thinking whatever it is you're thinking. Stop following me. Stop trying to 'befriend' me. You and I don't exist in the same world."

Marcello tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle he was determined to solve. 

"Are you sure about that ? Because, funny enough, we keep running into each other." His voice is playful. 

I exhaled sharply, turning away. "Not anymore."

And with that, I walked away leaving him standing there. But somehow, I knew this wasn't the last time I would see him.

Suddenly, I feel my heartbeat picking up. Not sure why, but I knew it's because of that damn agent. This can't happen. I need to stay away from him. Otherwise Domenico would slash we both.