Isabelle had a flurry of activity in the days preceding the gala, as she was engrossed in an overwhelming number of fittings, meetings, and social commitments.
It seems that Liam was determined to treat her like a highly valued show pony, making sure that everyone in the upper classes watched and evaluated every move she made.
He repeatedly told her, "You're to be my wife, Isabelle," with a possessiveness that itched on her skin. And that means upholding certain... expectations."
Isabelle thus discovered herself immersed in the lavish world of the affluent, surrounded by conceited socialites and ambitious businessmen who were all fighting for a share of the Callahan empire.
She missed the carefree days of her past life when she could spend a peaceful afternoon with a canvas and paints without worrying about what other people thought of her work.
It was an oppressive existence.
However, those times had faded into the mist of her new existence.
As the gala approached, Isabelle noticed that she was becoming more and more alone since she was no longer able to contact the one person who had given her a way out of her opulent jail.
Max.
As per Liam's request, she had cut off all communication with his cousin, fully conscious of the dire repercussions in case she disobeyed her soon-to-be spouse.
Still, her mind kept wandering to Max, wondering about his whereabouts and whether he was thinking of her as much as she was.
Isabelle was deep in thought when there was a sudden knock on her bedroom door, startling her out of her meditation.
She called, "Come in," anticipating Eliza or another employee.
However, the person who entered the room was distinctly out of the ordinary; she was a tall, immaculately dressed woman with angular, sharp features and eyes that seemed to pierce Isabelle's soul.
"It sounds like you're the notorious Isabelle Marino," the woman growled, her tone laced with contempt. "I must say, you're not quite what I expected."
The obvious condescension infuriated Isabelle, who raised her chin in scorn.
"And you are?" The woman smiled coldly, her lips well-painted.
"Please pardon me; where are my manners? Victoria Callahan, the mother of Liam."
Isabelle felt a sudden shock at hearing the name, causing her heart to falter within her chest.
Liam's mother-the one who had abandoned him when he was a little child and left him to survive on his own in the harsh, merciless world of the privileged.
"I didn't know you and Liam were friends," she said, trying to sound impartial.
Victoria's eyes seemed to flare with something like contempt, yet her grin never faltered.
"Oh, my dear, we're not. But the chance to meet the woman who has managed to entangle my son in her tiny trap was too irresistible for me to pass up."
Isabelle's eyebrows furrowed in perplexity.
"Snake? I'm not sure I get it." With a well-groomed hand, Victoria seemed to dismiss Isabelle's objections.
"Oh, kindly. We both see what this is, my dear-a blatant attempt to seize wealth and power by taking advantage of my son's misplaced feelings."
The words were painful, too near to reality for Isabelle to feel comfortable.
That, after all, was just what her mother had done, trading her away for the prospect of easy money.
However, there was an undercurrent of animosity that extended beyond Isabelle's unfavorable circumstances, as evidenced by Victoria's scathing remarks and hidden jabs.
She heard herself say, "You're wrong," over and over, her voice getting louder.
"Victoria, I didn't choose this arrangement, whatever you may think of me. My mother, if you will, sold me to your son."
With a hint of surprise flickering across her eyes, Victoria's exquisitely arched brows lifted ever so slightly before she sculpted her face into a mask of calm indifference once more.
Is that accurate?
With a murmur, her gaze swept across Isabelle, causing the younger woman to squirm.
"Well, I suppose that does put rather a different spin on things, doesn't it?" Isabelle parted her lips to reply, but Victoria had already pivoted and was walking towards the door with a royal demeanor.
She threw her shoulder and said, "Do try to make an effort for the gala, dear," with a hint of hardly disguised contempt.
"We wouldn't want the gossip rags to have too much fodder, now would we?" And just like that, she was gone, taking with her a trail of unsolved questions and stress.
After the meeting, Isabelle collapsed onto the edge of her bed, her head reeling.
There was no doubt about Victoria Callahan's power; she was a person whose wrath and venom appeared to bubble up from every pore.
However, what had provoked such hate?
What sinister mysteries lingered in the background of the Callahan family?
Isabelle couldn't get rid of the impression that she had only seen the very tip of a very large and very dangerous iceberg as the door behind Victoria clicked shut.
And down there, somehow, something was coming to an end that would shatter all Liam had worked so hard to build.
As Rachel, Damien Russo's assistant walked into the sleek, contemporary offices of Russo Enterprises across town, his lips curled into a menacing smirk.
"Well?" he said, his irritation evident in his tone. "What have you learned?"
With a calm, unwavering attitude, Rachel looked at her iPad.
"It seems our little bird has ruffled some feathers in the Callahan family nest." Damien's eyebrows shot up in curiosity.
"Oh? Do tell."
"Victoria Callahan has made an... appearance," Rachel said in a cautious tone. "She paid a visit to the girl, no doubt to size up her son's latest conquest." A contented giggle from Damien's throat grew slowly.
Victoria, the elderly harpist. I should have realized she would find a way to get her well-groomed nails into Liam's affairs.
With a sarcastic smirk curving his lips, he sat back in his luxurious leather chair and curled his fingers beneath his chin.
"And what, pray tell, did our esteemed matriarch have to say about the little nobody who's managed to ensnare her precious son?"
Rachel's mouth formed a thin line.
"According to our sources, the encounter was, to put it mildly, tense. Victoria didn't hide how much she despised the girl or her... intentions."
Damien's smile broadened and became decidedly predatory.
"Yes, that's right. Lovely old Victoria, who is never slow to pass judgment and even faster to attack anyone she thinks is undeserving."
He got up from his seat and moved toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that provided a broad perspective of the shimmering cityscape below.
"Rachel, tell me," he muttered, keeping his eyes focused on the distance. "What background do you know about the Callahan family? The skeletons hiding in their immaculately organized wardrobes?"
Rachel furrowed her brows just a little bit.
"Just hearsay, sir. Rumors of disgrace, treachery, and secrets better kept hidden."
A mean-spirited smirk vaguely appeared on Damien's lips.
"My dear Rachel, secrets have a way of coming to light. Particularly when there are others prepared to... reveal them."
His eyes glinted dangerously as he turned to confront her.
"Don't you think it's about time we reveal the dark past of the Callahan family? As the secrets start to emerge, let's watch how our good friend Liam handles it."
A sly, predatory smile crossed Damien's features as Rachel nodded her approval.
The regulations were in place, and he had no intention of following them.
Not while there was an empire to bring down, piece by painful piece.