Chapter 36 -THE SPY’S GUILT
She waited until the house settled into its afternoon rhythms — guards rotating, staff whispering through hallways, distant footsteps echoing through the marble — before slipping into the small sitting room off the east corridor. It was the only place where Lorenzo’s cameras didn’t reach. The one blind spot she had left.
Her hands trembled as she pulled out the burner phone.
Gianni’s message had come five times already.
We need to talk. Now.
There was no avoiding it anymore.
She dialed.
He picked up on the first ring.
“Finalmente. You’ve been ignoring me.”
Isabella closed her eyes. “It’s not easy here.”
“It was never meant to be easy,” he snapped. “We don’t have the luxury of delay. Isabella, listen to me — the Venturi family is escalating. They’ve learned about you. If we don’t move first, we lose everything.”
Her heart clenched. “What do you mean, everything?”
“I mean evidence. Leverage. Control.” Gianni’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I mean the very thing you risked your life to uncover. Lorenzo’s father, the deal gone wrong, the alliances your family was pulled into — all of it.”
She paced in a tight circle, her breath unsteady. “I haven’t found the rest yet.”
“That’s not what Niccolò says.”
She froze.
Gianni’s words sank in like ice.
“Niccolò?” she whispered. “You spoke to Lorenzo’s guard?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Gianni said. “An intercepted call. He reported suspicious activity. A search. Someone in the house is snooping.”
Panic flickered. Did Lorenzo know? Had Niccolò connected it to her? Had she left something behind?
“Isabella,” Gianni pressed, “we are running out of time.”
She swallowed hard. “I know.”
“No, you don’t,” he hissed. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be hesitating. You’re losing your edge. You’re losing focus. For God’s sake—”
“Stop.” Her voice cracked. “Just stop.”
Silence stretched thin.
When he spoke again, his tone was different. Softer. Sharper. Cutting straight to the nerve.
“You’re too close to him.”
Her pulse stumbled.
“Gianni—”
“Admit it.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“It’s exactly what I think.”
The words hit with surgical precision.
“You’ve forgotten why you’re there,” he continued. “Forgotten your father. Forgotten what the De Lucas did to your family. Forgotten the plan you and I bled to build.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” she whispered.
But the conviction wasn’t there.
“You slept with him, didn’t you?” Gianni said quietly.
She stopped breathing.
“How do you—”
“I know you,” he said. “I can hear it in your voice.”
A tear burned its way down her cheek. She wiped it angrily.
“It was a mistake,” she muttered.
“No,” Gianni corrected, “it was predictable. You’ve always had a weakness for broken men.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Maybe not.” His voice was carefully controlled. “But I’m right.”
She sank into the velvet chair, the weight of everything crushing her lungs. The night with Lorenzo lived under her skin — his hands, his voice, the way he’d looked at her like she was both answer and threat.
Her betrayal was no longer theoretical.
It had a face.
A mouth.
A heartbeat she had kissed against her own.
Gianni didn’t give her time to drown.
“We need the proof,” he said. “The documents. The ledgers. The link between your father and his. You’re the only one who can get it.”
“Gianni—”
“Tonight.”
Her stomach twisted. “That’s impossible. He’s watching me more closely than ever.”
“That’s why you need to act now.” Gianni’s frustration crackled through the line. “Before he locks you out completely. Before he finds out who you really are.”
“Gianni,” she whispered, voice breaking, “I can’t do it.”
The silence on his end was lethal.
“You can’t?” he repeated slowly. “Or you won’t?”
She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “I need time.”
“You’ve had time,” Gianni said. “Months. Access. Trust. You’ve been given everything you asked for. And now—now you hesitate because of him?”
Her throat tightened. “It’s complicated.”
“No,” he snapped, “it isn’t. You have one job. The job you begged me to help you with. The job you said you’d die to finish.”
Her pulse hammered painfully.
“I’m not backing out,” she insisted.
“Then prove it.” A beat. “Send the file tonight.”
She froze. “What file?”
“Don’t play stupid.” His voice turned dangerous. “The one you already have.”
Her breath stilled.
He didn’t know.
He thought she’d found the full documents in Lorenzo’s study. The ones she’d only glimpsed. The ones she had not taken.
This was the first lie she’d told Gianni.
“I have it,” she said, the words cutting her tongue. “But I can’t transmit it from here. It’s too risky.”
“What isn’t risky in that house?” he shot back. “Just send it. You’re on encrypted channels.”
“I said I can’t.”
“Isabella—”
“I’ll do it when I can,” she said, harder this time. “But not tonight.”
He exhaled sharply, like he’d just realized what she wasn’t saying.
“You’re protecting him.”
She closed her eyes. “No.”
“Yes,” he said. “And that means you’re no longer reliable.”
Her stomach dropped.
“Don’t say that,” she whispered.
“You’re compromised.”
“I’m still loyal.”
“To whom?” he asked. “To your mission? Or to him?”
Her lips parted — but no words came out.
Because she didn’t know anymore.
“Listen to me,” Gianni said, quieter. “If you don’t send the file by tomorrow night, Isabella… I’ll have no choice.”
“No choice but what?”
Silence.
“Gianni?”
“Do the right thing.”
“Gianni, what does that mean?”
But he had already hung up.
The phone slipped from her hand, hitting the rug with a dull thud.
She stared at the wall, heart pounding, mind racing.
He would burn her cover.
He would go public.
He would expose Lorenzo — or worse, expose her.
Unless she obeyed.
But she couldn’t betray Lorenzo again.
She couldn’t destroy him.
Not after last night.
Not after he had given her the last part of himself no one else had ever seen.
She pressed her hands to her face, breathing raggedly.
She was lying to her ally.
She was lying to the man she loved.
She was lying to herself most of all.
And then—
A floorboard creaked behind her.
She stiffened.
Slowly… silently… she turned.
Someone stood in the doorway — a silhouette framed by the faint glow of the hall.
Tall.
Still.
Watching.
Her pulse plummeted.
“Who’s there?” she whispered.
The figure didn’t answer.
Didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
A shadow detached from the darkness, stepping forward enough for her to see the faintest outline.
Broad shoulders.
An unmistakable stance.
Her blood ran cold.
“Lorenzo?” she breathed.
But the silhouette didn’t respond.
And whoever it was… had clearly heard everything.