Chapter 111
Isabella looked at Doria's concerned expression and gently shook her head.
"No, Chris won't bother me anymore. He's married now, and I heard the woman had a child who looks just like him."
Aria, sitting nearby, burst into laughter, "He's probably crippled now. I bet he's learned his lesson—some women you don't mess with, and some men you don't cross."
Doria frowned, confusion flickering in her eyes.
She glanced at Aria, then at Isabella, sensing something in the air she didn't quite grasp.
"What? What do you mean by crippled? What are you guys talking about?"
Aria realized she'd let something slip and instinctively looked at Isabella.
Isabella sighed, put down her ice cream spoon, and rubbed her temples with her fingers.
She knew this secret would have to come out sooner or later.
At least to an old friend like Doria.
And now that Aria had said it, there was no taking it back.
"Don't look at me," she said to Aria, her tone helpless but soft, "You're the one who slipped up. Go ahead and tell Doria. She won't spread it around. I trust her."
Aria hesitated for a moment, then nodded, her expression turning serious.
"Alright, here's what happened. At Sonia's wedding, Chris harassed Isabella, and then Mr. Luca made sure he ended up crippled in both legs."
Doria gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
Her eyes widened, filled with shock and disbelief.
"Oh my God, Isabella, is your man that ruthless? This sounds like something out of a mafia movie."
Her words made the atmosphere tense.
Isabella's face showed a hint of guilt, an awkwardness as if a secret had been exposed.
Aria went quiet too.
She lowered her head, pretending to focus on her cake, but the tension in her shoulders gave away her nerves.
Doria sensed something was off.
She leaned forward, her voice low, her eyes fixed on Isabella, "What's really going on? What are you hiding? Vitale isn't just a businessman with some shady deals, is he?"
Silence hung between the three of them.
Isabella took a deep breath, as if making a big decision.
"Vitale is from Eldoria."
Doria nodded, still confused, "I know, you've mentioned that before. So what's the problem?"
"Vitale isn't just from Eldoria," Isabella continued, her voice dropping almost to a whisper, "He's the current head of one of the biggest mafia families there, the Luca family."
"He's not just involved in the gray area—he's part of that dark world itself."
Doria's breath caught in her throat.
She stared at Isabella, unblinking, as if she couldn't process the words.
Then, her hand trembled, accidentally knocking over her glass of water.
"Sorry!" Doria hurriedly picked up the glass and grabbed some napkins to wipe the spill, but her movements were frantic, her eyes vacant.
Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no sound came out.
Isabella and Aria watched her quietly, giving her time to take it all in.
Doria wiped the table for a few minutes, her actions mechanical and repetitive.
Then she stopped, tossed the soaked napkins aside, placed her hands on her lap, and took a deep breath, then another.
"I won't tell anyone. I swear to God, I won't say a word, not even to my husband."
Doria paused, looking at Isabella. Her brown eyes swirled with complicated emotions, but above all, there was concern.
"But, Isabella, you've walked into another kind of hell, haven't you?"
Isabella saw the worry in Doria's eyes and felt a wave of warmth and sadness.
She reached out and held Doria's hand.
"I thought the same thing at first. When I found out who Vitale really was, I was terrified. I wanted to run, to quit my job, to go back to my safe, ordinary life. But…"
Isabella paused, a small smile forming on her lips, "But as I got to know Vitale, I realized he's more like a cheetah—powerful, dangerous, but also graceful and principled."
"And he's gentle with me, in every way."
She looked into Doria's eyes, trying to make her understand, "Just like your husband is gentle with you, Vitale is the same with me. It's just that his world is darker, more dangerous, so his way of protecting me is more extreme."
Doria stayed silent for a long time.
She thought of her own husband, Elliot, a young politician running for state senator.
To the outside world, Elliot was calm, sharp, and good at playing the game of public opinion.
But at home, with her, he was the clumsy guy who burned coffee, who held her while watching boring movies, who stayed up all night taking care of her when she was sick.
Everyone wears a mask. Everyone has a world they have to face.
Vitale's world just happens to be darker than most.
"I get it," Doria finally said, "Everyone has the right to choose their own love, even if it looks crazy or dangerous to others. As long as he loves you, as long as he treats you well, as long as you're happy."
She gripped Isabella's hand back, her expression turning serious and earnest, "Isabella, I'll keep this secret for you. I swear to God, you can trust me. Elliot won't know, my parents won't know, no one will know. This is your life, your choice."
"But I want you to promise me something, Isabella. Don't trap yourself. If Vitale ever treats you badly, or if there's danger, if this relationship starts to hurt you—whether physically or emotionally—you have to leave. Okay? Promise me. No matter how hard it is, no matter how scared you are, you need to have the courage and the ability to walk away. Because you're Isabella. You're not any man's possession, not anyone's prisoner."
Isabella felt tears welling up in her eyes.
She nodded, squeezing Doria's hand tightly.
"Of course, I won't let myself get stuck in a bad situation. I promise you, I have my job, my friends, my life. Even though I love Vitale, I won't lose myself."
Aria, watching this moment from the side, also had misty eyes.
She cleared her throat, trying to lighten the heavy mood.
"Alright, enough serious talk! Doria, do you have to work this afternoon, or are you free?"
Doria wiped the corner of her eye and forced a smile, "I took the day off, so no work for me. Why? You want to hang out?"
Aria's eyes lit up, her smile turning sly, "Of course! When I was shopping with Isabella earlier, I saw a dress. I think it'd look amazing on you! With your figure and vibe, you'd rock it!"
Isabella's eyes widened as she looked at Aria, her expression shifting from touched to exasperated.
She turned to Aria, her voice carrying a warning, "You're not talking about that dress, are you?"
Aria shrugged, looking innocent, "Yes! You both have such perfect figures. Why pass up a gorgeous dress like that? If I had a body like yours, I'd buy it in a heartbeat, no hesitation. That dress is a work of art! On you, it'd be art taken to the next level!"
Doria's confusion returned.
She glanced at Isabella, then at Aria, her smile growing curious.
"What dress?" she asked, her eyes sparkling, "It sounds interesting. Tell me!"
After the question, both women went quiet.
Finally, Isabella sighed and turned to Doria, her expression serious.
"Doria, you'd better brace yourself. That dress is very bold. It's barely even a dress—more like a carefully cut piece of fabric that just covers the essentials. And it's ridiculously expensive. But Aria's right, it's beautiful, like a piece of art. It's just…"
She paused, searching for the right words, "It's just that this art is better hung on a wall to admire, not worn on a date—unless your date is with your husband and you're not planning to leave the bedroom."
Doria's eyes only shone brighter.
She laughed, and in that laugh, Isabella recognized a familiar adventurous spark.
Back in college, Doria was the one who'd try the wildest hairstyles, the boldest makeup, the weirdest foods.
"Sounds exciting!" she said, standing up and grabbing her coat, "Let's go! Show me! Maybe I'll try it on. It's been forever since I've worn anything daring. After getting married, Elliot always wants me to look the part of a politician's wife. But today, I want to be Doria, not Mrs. Martinez."
Isabella saw the light in Doria's eyes and suddenly understood.
Doria didn't just need a dress—she needed an escape.
A way to temporarily break free from the role of a politician's wife and reconnect with her true, free self.
Maybe that ridiculous dress could give her that.
"Alright," Isabella finally said, standing up too, "But be prepared. That dress is really bold."
Aria clapped her hands excitedly, "Awesome! Let's go! I bet when Doria wears it, Elliot will cancel all his political events and take her home for a full day of 'deep conversation'!"
The three women burst into laughter, the earlier heaviness completely gone.
When they returned to the upscale boutique, the same salesperson from before was still there.
Seeing Isabella again, her face briefly showed a hint of impatience.
But when she noticed Doria and Aria, she quickly put on a professional smile.
"Ladies, welcome back. Can I help you with anything?"
Aria pointed straight at the black dress in the display window.
It was still there, like a flowing shadow, gleaming temptingly under the lights.
"That black one! Let my friend try it on!" Aria said, gesturing to Doria.
A few minutes later, Doria held the dress and walked toward the fitting room with Isabella.
Aria waited outside, practically bouncing with excitement.
At the fitting room door, Doria hesitated for a moment and looked at Isabella.
"Do you want to come in with me?" she asked, her smile a bit nervous, "Or should we use separate rooms?"
Isabella looked at her nervous expression and laughed, "Doria, have you forgotten I've seen you naked before? What's there to be shy about? We've showered together, haven't we?"