Chapter 75 Everything Falls Apart

Chapter 75 Everything Falls Apart
Lorenzo returned to the house, his silhouette sharp against the floor of the foyer. He looked like a man carrying the weight of the world, and in his arms he held a thick stack of merger files tucked under his elbow, the edges crinkled from a day of negotiations.

He went straight to his private study, the door clicking shut behind him. Inside, he spread the documents across the desk.

Tomorrow, he thought, his eyes scanning the documents. Tomorrow, Salvatore signs, and the Damiano empire becomes mine.

He was tracing a finger over a bank routing clause when the door creaked open. He didn't look up. He didn't have to. The scent of vanilla told him exactly who it was.

"Lorenzo," Isabella said.

"I’m busy, Isabella," he muttered, his eyes never leaving the page. "The meeting with your father is in less than twenty-four hours. I don't have time for complaints."

Isabella stepped further into the room, her shadow falling over his papers. "I need to go out tomorrow. I’m out of everything. Personal items, toiletries..."

Lorenzo finally looked up, his expression flat. "Make a list. I’ll have the driver pick up whatever you need and bring it back. You don’t need to leave the house."

Isabella’s eyes flashed with fury that had been smoldering for weeks. She slammed her hand down on the desk, rattling his pens.

"A list?" she hissed. "You think I’m a child? Or a prisoner? I’ve been locked in this house for weeks, Lorenzo! I need to breathe fresh air. I need to walk down a street without four walls closing in on me. Do you honestly expect me to ask a driver to pick out my sanitary pads?"

Lorenzo sighed, leaning back in his chair. "It’s for your safety, Isabella. The streets are—"

"Don't you dare talk to me about safety!" she shouted, her voice rising until it bounced off the bookshelves. "I am fucking tired, Lorenzo! I am at my breaking point! If you don't let me out of this house tomorrow, I will scream. I’ll call the press. I’ll call my father and tell him exactly how you treat me. I’ll tell the whole world that I am trapped in a cage of a marriage, and I will burn this marriage down from the inside!"

He stared at her tiredly. He didn't feel threatened by her words, but he was annoyed. She was a disturbance, and he needed silence to finish these files.

"Fine," he snapped, waving a hand dismissively. "Go. But you don't go alone. Someone accompanies you at all times. No exceptions."

Isabella’s heart did a frantic somersault, but she kept her face hard. "Fine. I’ll take Camilla. She’s harmless enough. At least she won't look at me like a guard dog the whole time."

"Whatever," Lorenzo muttered, already looking back down at his documents. "Just be back on time."

The next morning, the master bedroom was filled with the scent of expensive perfume. Lorenzo stood at the mirror, adjusting his tie, when he noticed Isabella through the reflection.

She was glowing, wearing a stunning, tight-fitting dress that made her look so good. Her hair was swept back in perfect waves, and her makeup was flawless. There was a lightness in her step, a hum of energy he hadn't seen since before the wedding.

Lorenzo stopped, a flicker of suspicion stirring in his gut.

"You’re putting in a lot of effort just to buy soap and tampons," he remarked, his voice cool.

Isabella didn't flinch. She applied a layer of red lipstick and blew a kiss to her reflection. "When you feel like a prisoner, Lorenzo, you dress for the day you get free. It makes me feel human. Is that a crime?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. Something felt off. She looked too happy. Too joyful. But the clock on the wall was ticking. He had to finish getting ready for the meeting with Salvatore. He couldn't waste his precious time on Isabella.

"Don't be late," he said, grabbing his briefcase.

He spent the rest of the morning in his study, standing before the full-length mirror, rehearsing his pitch to Salvatore over and over. He practiced the humble smile, the firm handshake, the look of a loyal son-in-law. 

By noon, he was ready.

Isabella appeared in the doorway, her purse over her shoulder. "I’m leaving now."

Lorenzo checked his watch. "Good. I’m heading out to meet your father and Luca. I’ll give them your regards."

Isabella gave him a thin, pretentious smile. "Yes. Give them my love. Tell them I’m thinking of them."

She turned and walked away, her heels clicking a steady beat of victory.

In the car, the silence was heavy. Isabella sat in the back with Camilla, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She had given the driver the address Alexander provided, an abandoned house in the old industrial district.

As they got closer to the city center, Isabella’s mind raced. She looked at Camilla, who sat beside her quietly, but Isabella didn't trust her. 

"Actually," Isabella said suddenly, "I have a better idea. Driver, stop at the shopping district on 5th."

The car pulled over near a bustling row of boutiques, and Isabella turned to Camilla. "I need to handle my personal business at a specific address nearby. It’s private, and I don't want an audience. Wait for me here. Go buy yourself a coffee or a scarf. I’ll be back in an hour."

Camilla looked confused. "But Mr. Lorenzo said—"

"Mr. Lorenzo said you are my chaperone, and I am telling you to wait here," Isabella snapped. "I’m not a child, Camilla. Now, get out. I’ll meet you back at this spot."

The maid hesitated, then slowly stepped out of the car. As soon as the door shut, Isabella looked at the driver. "Go. 44th and Miller. Now."

Camilla stood on the sidewalk, watching the black SUV disappear into traffic. Her pleasant smile vanished. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

"She dropped me off," she whispered into the phone. "She’s heading to the address now. 44th and Miller."

On the other end, Bianca felt her blood turn to fire. "Why would she go there to meet Lorenzo?"

"I don't know, ma'am, but she was desperate to get rid of me. She’s going to him. I know it."

"I’m going there now," Bianca hissed, her voice shaking with rage. "I’m going to catch them in that house. Thank you, Camilla."



Lorenzo was halfway to the Damiano estate when the feeling hit him: a cold sensation in the pit of his stomach.

He replayed the morning. Isabella’s radiant smile. Her perfect hair. 

"Something is wrong," he muttered as he pulled out his phone and dialed Camilla directly.

"Where are you?" he barked as soon as she picked up.

"I... I’m at the shopping district, sir. Madam dropped me off. I think she’s going to meet you at a house on 44th and Miller."

Lorenzo froze. His heart stopped for a beat, then began to throb with a violent rhythm. "Meet me? I’m in the car on my way to her father! I never told her to meet me anywhere!"

The realization hit him like a physical blow. She wasn't shopping. She was meeting someone else.

"Damn it!" he roared, slamming his fist against the back of the seat. "Damn it all to hell!"

He looked at the driver, his face contorted with fury. "Forget the meeting! Turn this car around! 44th and Miller! Drive like the devil is chasing you!"

The car lurched as the driver pulled a hard U-turn, tires screeching against the asphalt. Lorenzo gripped his knees, his mind a storm of dark possibilities. 

"I’ll kill them both," he whispered to himself. "I’ll bury them in the basement of that house."