Chapter 178 Brave Words

Chapter 178 Brave Words
The phone rang sharply in Luca’s private office.

He picked up lazily, expecting the usual formalities, but the voice on the other end immediately sent a chill down his spine.

“Luca,” Dante’s tone was low but laced with an edge of fury that made every hair on Luca’s neck stand on end. “I need you here. Now.”

Luca’s brow arched, masking the sudden unease. “Dante… I’m a little tied up at the moment,” he said smoothly, letting a trace of false nonchalance seep into his voice.

“Busy with… some business that can’t wait.”

There was a sharp pause on the line, then Dante’s voice roared, tight with anger. “I don’t care about your excuses. You have twenty-four hours to return Isabella, safe and sound. That’s it.”

Before Luca could respond, the line went dead.

He stared at the phone, a creeping suspicion tightening in his chest.

Dante knew. He knows something.

Luca’s mind raced, heart pounding slightly. Could Dante have discovered the truth about him? About everything he’d been doing behind his back?

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face, tinged with both fear and excitement.

“Well,” he murmured to himself, leaning back in his chair, “this just got… interesting.”

He clenched his fist lightly, already plotting his next moves. If Dante was onto him, Luca knew he needed to be careful.

And as for De Luca… once this was over, he would make sure the pieces fell exactly where he wanted them.

Luca’s eyes hardened, he had 24 hours, and he intended to use every second.

__________________

Isabella’s eyelids fluttered open. She tried to lift her head, only for a sharp pain to slice through her side, making her gasp.

Her throat burned, and when she coughed, blood filled her mouth.

She blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the room. The walls were bare concrete, cold and unwelcoming.

The air was thick with dust and the faint stench of dampness.

Every muscle in her body ached, her limbs heavy and uncooperative, as if the bruises themselves weighed her down.

Her hands trembled as she tried to push herself upright.

The memory of Valentina’s attack came back. She closed her eyes, suppressing a moan, feeling a pang of anger and fear mix into nausea.

A shiver ran down her spine, her mind was already racing. Where am I? How long have I been here? Why is she doing this?

She tried to focus, ignoring the throbbing in her head and the ache in her ribs, forcing herself to think.

Through the haze of pain, she forced her gaze around the room, scanning for anything familiar, but still nothing.

Her heart hammered, not just from fear, but from determination. “I will get out. I will find Dante and we will fix this.” She told herself.

Isabella’s body tensed instinctively as the heavy metal door creaked open.

A chill ran down her spine despite the pain coursing through every inch of her body.

Three figures stepped into the dim light.

Her eyes widened, taking in each of them.

The first was Luca, his familiar features twisted into something cold, smug, and calculating. She had never seen him like this, so unrestrainedly cruel.

Next to him was Valentina, her lips curling in that self-satisfied smirk.

And then… her stomach dropped. De Luca.

She recognized him immediately, the same face from the photograph in Dante’s study, the man who had orchestrated her father’s death.

Her heart pounded fiercely in her chest.

Her voice shook only slightly, but it carried weight. “What… what do you want from me?” she demanded, forcing courage into every syllable. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Luca’s eyes glinted, a dangerous amusement flickering in them.

Valentina leaned casually against the wall, her smirk widening, clearly enjoying the tension.

De Luca’s gaze was cold, unreadable, but every second he held it on her felt like ice slicing through her bones.

She pushed herself up slightly, ignoring the ache in her ribs, and met their eyes. “I’ve faced worse than you,” she said, her voice firmer now. “I’ve survived lies, betrayal, death. You think a few bruises, a few threats, will scare me?”

Valentina’s laugh was cruel, echoing off the concrete walls. “Brave words, Isabella… but it won’t help you. Not now.”

Isabella’s chest heaved. Her body was weak, but her spirit refused to bend. She knew she couldn’t let them see fear, she had survived too much for that.

“You’ve made mistakes,” she spat, her glare flicking to Luca, then De Luca. “And now you’ll pay for them. I’ll make sure of it. Don’t think I won’t.”

De Luca’s expression didn’t change.

Luca stepped closer, deliberately slow, forcing her to shift uncomfortably on the cold floor. “You really think you have a choice here?” he said in a low tone, almost teasing. “Everything you love, everything that matters to you… it’s already in our hands.”

Isabella’s jaw tightened. “You think you’ve won,” she said, her voice gaining strength with each word, “but you’ve underestimated me. And you’re going to regret it.”

Valentina straightened, her eyes narrowing. “Careful, Isabella. Words won’t save you this time.”

Isabella’s gaze didn’t waver. Her body ached, but her resolve blazed brighter than ever. “I said—I’m not afraid of you. You can try to break me, hurt me, scare me… but I will not give in. You hear me?”

For a moment, silence hung in the air.

De Luca didn’t respond.

Luca’s smirk faltered slightly, a flash of impatience in his eyes.

Valentina’s smile remained, but there was a slight twitch at the corner of her lips.