The Conspiracy of Clone
Izzy POV
He shrugged. "You killed a significant man. Not only to myself, but also to those with whom I conduct business. They needed someone to hold accountable. It's better for you than for me.
I looked at him. "So what? Are you merely coming to make fun of it?
"No," he leaned forward to say. "I'm here to make you an offer. Put in some work for me. Join the family business. You won't see this spot ever again if you follow my instructions.
I gave a sour laugh. "I go from one prison to another, then?"
He declared, "Freedom is an illusion." "At least I have luxury in my prison."
I tightened my jaw. "What if I decline?"
His grin dimmed. Seline, your small pal, will then suffer as a result. What do they do to ladies like her here, do you know? How quickly might she vanish?
My heart fell. "You wouldn't."
"Try me," he said in a whisper.
I turned to face my hands. They trembled. My throat ached. I wanted to yell "no," but I couldn't allow him to harm Seline. The only person who had ever looked out for me without expecting anything in return was her.
"All right," I replied. "I'll carry it out."
"Good girl," he smirked contentedly. "I anticipated you would see it my way."
That evening, we departed from the prison. No questions, no guards. There was only a black automobile waiting outside, as if everything had been prearranged. I silently sat in the back seat and watched the city lights go by outside the window.
It wasn't until we arrived at his estate that he spoke to me again.
As we entered the vast hall, he added, "You'll need rest." "We start transforming you tomorrow."
Confused, I turned to face him. "Change?"
He smiled, but I didn't trust it and replied, "You'll see."
That night, I hardly slept at all. My mind was racing, even though my bed was lovely and the linens were silk. I kept thinking about Seline all the time. Or the deceased man. Or the extent of my life's decline.
The morning arrived too soon.
I was led underground to a secret area of the estate. The marble walls gave way to metal ones. Fear and toxic odours filled the air.
We went into what appeared to be a laboratory.
I noticed her at that point.
Me.
On a hospital bed, unconscious. In her arms are wires. Quiet beeping from monitors.
My legs nearly failed me.
"What the devil is this?" I said.
Calm as ever, my father stepped next to me. "Biotechnology. Cloning. An offering from our companions in the less fortunate regions of the globe.
"That's me," I responded, taking a step forward. "She resembles me exactly."
He said, "She is you." "In every manner of the body. Voice, Face, DNA.
I was having trouble breathing. I had trembling hands. "Why?"
He stated, "Because the world still needs someone to blame." "You cannot return to prison." Your clone, however, can. Give them the impression that she is the true you.
"Instead of me, you're sending her to rot in prison?" I yelled. "She's not real at all!"
He cocked his head. "Izzy, she isn't a human. She is a work of art. A tool. We live this way. You will eventually comprehend.
"You're crazy."
He took hold of my arm. "Your new life is this. You'll assume a new role and a new name. The truth will never be revealed to anyone outside of this estate. And I'll kill you and leave the clone alive if you ever cross the line.
I took a step back and wrenched my arm free. In my chest, my heart beat like a war drum. "You're a monster."
Calmly, he responded, "No." "I am your dad. Additionally, I simply gave you another chance.
The hours went by quickly. I observed the clone being dressed in a jail outfit, having her hair styled like mine, and even having phoney facial bruises applied. She resembled me exactly when I killed that man. A flawless replica.
I vomited in the corridor.
She was still unconscious when they removed her. She would awaken to find herself in a chilly cell with strangers all about her, disoriented and bewildered. Due to me.
No—due to him.
They provided me with a new identity, a new room, and new clothes.
My father declared, "Izzy Marino is dead." “You are Bella from now on. My helper. My successor.
I felt like screaming. However, what was the purpose?
Days went by. I said nothing. I did what I was told. When I was informed, I smiled. I learned how to speak authoritatively and how to appear scary. I was becoming my father's little Mafia queen.
But on the inside, I was losing a bit more of myself every day.
I stayed in my room by myself at night, gazing up at the ceiling and wondering if the clone was crying in her imprisonment. Had Seline noticed? If the truth were ever known.
One night, with my heart numb, I was sitting on the edge of the bed when the door suddenly opened.
I hurried to my feet.
A tall, sharp-suited man with icy-cold eyes entered. He appeared strong. Risky.
At first, he remained silent. He simply stared at me as if he could read every secret I had ever held.
Then at last he said something.
The Marino princess I've heard so much about is you, then.
I blinked. "Who are you?"
He smiled at me, but it wasn't a genuine smile. "Luca Moretti."
I shuddered when I heard the name. I had heard that name before—rumours of a rival boss, a man who dominated half the city with fire and blood, a man who killed without hesitation.
He walked around the room, examining me as if I were a piece of exhibit, and said, "I wasn't expecting you to be so... small."
"And I didn't think a stranger would walk into my room without knocking," I yelled.
He chuckled. "You have fire inside of you. Excellent. It is going to be necessary.
"What are you looking for?" My voice was quiet as I asked.
He answered, "I want to see if you're as dangerous as they say." "Because you won't be able to survive what's coming if you're not."
His eyes met mine as he took a step closer.
He said, "Be careful, little princess." "The game is just getting started."