Chapter 94 Shadows behind the cruel smile
Sienna watched Dante walk away, his back stiff, his steps uneven from the impact of the fall. He didn’t look back. He didn’t hesitate. He simply walked until his figure disappeared behind the corner of the stadium corridor.
Only when she was sure he was out of sight did she let out a long, shaky breath.
Her throat tightened. Her eyes burned. Her heart throbbed painfully, like someone was squeezing it with steady pressure.
She tried to blink the tears away, but one slipped out. She wiped it quickly with the back of her hand, she still had work to do. She still had to breathe. She still had to pretend all of this didn’t hurt as much as it did.
Her cleaning cloth felt heavy in her hand. She bent down to pick up a plastic cup that had rolled under one of the seats. She was still crouched when she heard the sharp, echoing click of heels approaching.
It was slow, sharp, and precise.
The sound of a woman who believed she owned every space she walked into.
Sienna froze, then stood up slowly.
Isabelle stood three steps above her on the metal bleachers. Her arms were crossed. Her jaw was tense. Her eyes, cold, dark, and angry, were locked on Sienna like staring at something dirty.
She must have watched everything from the VIP section. The fall. The way Sienna ran to help him. Their conversation. All of it.
Sienna straightened herself, gripping her cloth tightly but refusing to back down.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Isabelle smiled a cruel, mocking curve of her lips.
“So,” she began, her voice sharp like a blade wrapped in silk, “you just can’t stop, can you?”
Sienna inhaled slowly, keeping her face neutral.
“Stop what, exactly?” she asked calmly.
Isabelle came down two steps, heels clicking loudly.
“Stop ruining everything,” she snapped. “Stop showing up everywhere Dante goes. Stop pretending you care about him. Stop looking at him like you have a right to.”
Sienna swallowed. “I’m working. This is my job.”
“Your job?” Isabelle repeated with a laugh that sounded fake and poisonous. “Of course. Because you peasants will do anything for money, won’t you?”
Sienna didn’t react. She had been insulted before. But something inside her began to tighten anger, maybe, or the exhaustion of being constantly stepped on.
Isabelle stepped even closer, her perfume overwhelming, her smile venomous.
“Let me make this very clear for you,” she said slowly, each word dripping with hatred. “Stay away from Dante. Stop showing your face. Stop breathing near him.”
Sienna blinked.
Isabelle leaned in, whispering in a tone that felt like a slap:
“Or better disappear. Get lost. Die, if you must. That’s what people like you do best.”
Sienna’s breath caught.
Not out of fear but because of how ugly the words were.
She lifted her chin.
“You done?” she asked softly.
Isabelle’s brows knitted in irritation. “Excuse me?”
“Let me ask you something,” Sienna said, voice calm, steady, cutting. “Would you be anything without your father’s wealth?”
Isabelle’s face went blank.
“Do you have a name you built for yourself?” Sienna continued, stepping closer, eyes unblinking. “A career? A talent? A single achievement that wasn’t handed to you on a silver platter?”
Isabelle’s lips parted. “How… how dare..”
“But that’s the thing, right?” Sienna said, her tone quiet but sharp. “You don’t actually know what hard work feels like. You don’t understand what it means to lose everything.”
Isabelle looked stunned like no one had ever talked back to her before.
“You think you’re better than everyone,” Sienna went on. “But without your father’s money, without his name, who are you, Isabelle?”
Isabelle tried to speak, but no words came out.
“You don’t know,” Sienna answered. “Because you’ve never built anything. You only take. You lie. You manipulate. You destroy.”
Isabelle’s face twisted in anger. “You need to watch your mouth.”
Sienna didn’t give her the chance.
“You don’t scare me,” she said calmly. “You never will.”
She picked up her bucket, brushed past Isabelle, and walked with her head held high.
Isabelle stood frozen, fists shaking, eyes wide with disbelief and fury.
“How dare she?!” Isabelle screamed after a full three seconds. Her voice echoed through the empty stadium. “How dare she talk to me like that?!”
But Sienna didn’t turn around.
And that only made Isabelle angrier.
Later at Dante's villa, the front door slammed shut, loud enough to echo through the marble hallway. Isabelle stormed inside, her face bright red, her jaw clenched so tightly she could barely speak.
She found Dante in the living room, leaning back on the couch, his phone in his hand. He didn’t even hear her come in; he was staring at his screen with a small, quiet smile.
A happy smile.
A gentle smile.
A smile she hadn’t seen directed at her in days
Her heart twisted painfully not with sadness, but with rage.
“Dante,” she said sharply.
He didn’t look up. “Hmm?”
Her voice rose. “Dante!”
He lifted his head, surprised. “Isabelle, what?”
Her eyes narrowed to thin slits. “Are you still seeing her?”
The moment the name left her mouth, Dante’s expression changed.
The smile faded. But something warm remained.
“Sienna?” he asked quietly. “Why?”
Isabelle saw it instantly, the softness in his voice. The way her name rolled off his tongue like something he shouldn’t say but couldn’t stop saying.
It burned her.
“Are you seeing her?” Isabelle demanded, her voice shaking slightly.
Dante blinked slowly. “I spoke to her, yes. She was at the stadium. She works there.”
“Yes, how convenient,” Isabelle spat. “Always appearing where you are. Always clinging. Always pretending to care.”
“Stop,” Dante said, his voice suddenly firm. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
Isabelle froze.
He had never defended her like that. He had never raised his voice for her. He had never softened for her.
But for Sienna?
His face was different. His tone was always different. His heart was different.
“You smiled,” Isabelle said quietly, breathing unevenly. “I saw it. You smiled. You never smile at me like that.”
Dante looked away for a moment and that silence hurt her more than any words.
Finally he said, “I’m tired, Isabelle. I need some air.”
She grabbed his wrist, nails digging into his skin.
“Don’t walk away from me!” she snapped.
He turned slowly, eyes heavy. “Isabelle please, not now.”
“Then stop seeing her!”
“I’m not seeing anyone,” Dante said carefully. “I just..”
“You want to,” she accused.
He didn’t answer.
And that silence destroyed her.
Dante gently removed her hand and stepped back. “I’ll be back.”
He walked away.
Isabelle stood in the living room, chest rising and falling rapidly, her breathing shaky, her eyes glassy with frustrated tears.
She hated Sienna. She hated the way Dante softened because of her. She hated that something so simple as a smile had ripped open every insecurity she had buried.
But what she hated most was the fact that
she was losing control.
And she couldn’t allow that.
Later that night, Isabelle sat alone in Dante’s office, lights dimmed, fingers tapping impatiently on the arm of the chair. Every part of her was buzzing with anger, with jealousy, with a dark kind of desperation.
Her phone buzzed.
She snatched it instantly. She smiled when she saw the text. It was from an unknown number. “Everything is set.”
Her breath hitched. Her pulse slowed.
Good.
She typed slowly, carefully, savoring the moment. “Let's proceed.”
She pressed send.
A slow, wicked smile appeared on her lips, a smile so cold and sharp it could cut through steel.
Her phone buzzed again.
A response from the number.
“Consider it done. She won’t see it coming.”
Isabelle leaned back in the chair, legs crossing elegantly, her fingers tapping lightly on her phone screen.
“Oh, Sienna,” she whispered with a cruel smile. “Let’s see how stubborn you are after this.”
The house was silent.
But something dangerous had already begun.