Chapter 74 The Silent Frequency

Chapter 74 The Silent Frequency
The silver key was still there. Isabella knew exactly where it lay—trapped in the dust beneath the heavy bed frame, far away from her grasp. Every time she walked past the bed, she felt as if the metal was burning through the tiles.
It had been forty-eight hours since that metallic sound had nearly ended her life, and she was no closer to bringing it out.
Lorenzo had been acting strange. For the past two days, he was gone before the sun came out, and he didn't return until midnight. He didn’t look at her or talk to her. He just moved through the rooms with a kind of dark energy that made her beat fast.
"Is he suspicious?" she whispered to her reflection in the mirror. "Or is he just busy planning our funeral?"
The key wasn't her only nightmare. Her mind was a mess of 'what-ifs.'
Had Alexander received the muffins? Had he found the files? She hadn't heard a single word from him. No secret signals, no messages through the few servants she trusted. Nothing. For all she knew, the guard had eaten the evidence, or Vincent Harrington had caught Alexander.
She paced the bedroom, her heels clicking frantically on the floor. Lorenzo was in the bathroom, the steam from his morning shower curling under the door.
His phone sat on the nightstand, and she contemplated taking it to call Alexander.
She reached out, her fingers inches from the device, but she froze. Lorenzo was smart. If he had a tracking app or a log monitor, she would be handing him the rope to hang her with.
She pulled her hand back, her heart thumping hard.
"I can't," she breathed. "I have to be smarter."

Across the city, the air in Mr. Luther’s office was thick with the smell of old paper and expensive tobacco. Valeria sat in a leather chair, her eyes fixed on the man behind the desk.
Mr. Luther was the best lawyer the Harringtons’ money could buy, a man who knew how to make the law bend until it broke.
He turned the last page of the bank transfer records and looked up, his face grim.
"This is it, Valeria," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "This isn't just a business dispute. This is a criminal conspiracy to dismantle an empire. The contracts, the signatures... It’s all here. Lorenzo Grusso and Dorian Vane aren't just partners. They are executioners."
Valeria felt a sharp pain in her chest. Every word Luther spoke was like a hammer to her heart. She had been so wrong.
She stood up, her grief turning into rage. She looked at the files, the evidence of Bianca and Lorenzo's manipulation.
"Do you want to file a lawsuit?" Mr. Luther asked, reaching for a document. "We could have an injunction by morning."
She shook her head, her eyes flashing with anger. "No. Lawsuits are for people who play by the rules. I’m a Harrington, and the man I love is a Damiano. We handle things the underground way. I don't want them in a courtroom, Luther. I want them in the dirt."
She snatched the files from the desk. "I’m going to save that family. And when I’m done, Bianca and Lorenzo will wish they had never heard the name, Damiano."

Back at the estate, Isabella couldn't sit still. She was at the breakfast table, moving a fork through a plate of cold eggs. Her stomach was in knots. Every time a door opened, she flinched, expecting a guard to drag her to the secret room.
Suddenly, a loud ringtone cut through the silence.
She looked up. Camilla was standing near the door, pulling a phone from her apron pocket. She offered a quick, apologetic bow and stepped toward the corner of the room to answer in a hushed whisper.
A thought ignited in Isabella’s mind. 
When Camilla finished her call and walked back toward the table, Isabella straightened her back and put on her coldest, most commanding face.
"Camilla," she said, her voice firm.
"Yes, ma'am?" the maid asked, pausing.
"Give me your phone. Now."
Camilla blinked, her face flickering with confusion and a hint of fear. "Oh... ma'am, I’m not supposed to—"
"I didn't ask for your opinion," Isabella snapped. "I need to make a quick call, and I don't want to use the house line. Hand it over, or I’ll tell Lorenzo you’ve been stealing from the wine cellar."
Camilla’s hand trembled as she reached into her pocket. She knew better than to argue with the woman of the house. She placed the phone in Isabella’s outstretched hand and stepped back.
"Leave the room," Isabella ordered.
Once she was alone, Isabella’s fingers flew across the screen. She had memorized Alexander’s number weeks ago, repeating it like a prayer. She hit dial.
It picked up on the second ring.
"Hello?" his voice was cautious, deep, and familiar.
"Alex! It’s me," she whispered, her voice filled with urgency. "I’m using a servant's phone. Talk to me. Did you get it? Are you okay?"
"Isabella," he breathed, and she could hear the relief in his tone. "Relax. Everything is fine. I have the muffins, and I found the 'extra ingredients' you packed. We have a lot to talk about. The evidence is more than we hoped for."
Isabella felt a weight lift off her soul. "What do we do now? Lorenzo is getting weirder every day. I’m scared, Alex."
"I know. Listen to me," he said, his voice turning professional. "I know an abandoned house on the outskirts of the industrial district. 44th and Miller. It’s quiet, and no one watches it. Meet me there tomorrow at noon. We need to plan the next move face-to-face."
"I’ll be there," Isabella promised. 
"Be careful, Bella," he warned.
"I will. Alright, baby. I'll meet you there. I love you."
She hung up, her thumb blurring as she opened the call history, then deleted the log, making sure no trace of the number remained. She took a deep breath, smoothed her hair, and called out to Camilla, raising her voice.
Camilla walked back into the dining area, and Isabella handed the phone back to her with a neutral, bored expression.
"Thank you. You can go back to your work."
Camilla took the phone with a polite smile and a dip of her head. But as soon as Isabella disappeared up the stairs, her expression changed. She slipped into the pantry and hit a speed-dial button.
"She just made a call," she whispered into the phone.
On the other end, Bianca sat in her room at the Damiano mansion, her eyes narrowing. "On your phone? Who did she call?"
"I don't know for sure, ma'am, but she was acting very strange. Very desperate. I overheard her at the end. She said she was meeting him at an abandoned house tomorrow at noon. She said 'I love you."
Bianca felt a jolt of electricity run through her. "A meeting? At an abandoned house? Did she say Lorenzo’s name?"
"No, but who else would it be?" Camilla asked. "She was whispering like a lover."
Bianca gripped her phone until her knuckles turned white, and a bitter smile spread across her lips. "She’s calling him on your phone to avoid the house monitors. They think they’re so clever. They think they can hide their little affair from me."
"Camilla, find the exact address," she commanded her. "I want to know exactly where that place is. If they want a secret meeting, I’m going to give them a secret they’ll never forget."
"I’ll get it, ma'am."
Bianca hung up and stared into the mirror as she rubbed her stomach, thinking of the baby—the weapon she was using against Luca.
"You want to play the game, Lorenzo?" she whispered to her reflection. "Fine. But I’m the one who writes the ending. I’m going to catch you both in that house, and when I do, I’m going to destroy everything you love."