As the evening deepened into night, Isla paced the quiet mansion, glancing at the clock for the fifth time that hour. Last time when she saw him was nothing but her delusions. She’d heard rumors from the staff that Dante had been out all day and into the evening, and though she knew he was coming back, the hours stretched painfully in his absence. Since he’d learned about her pregnancy, there had been a shift between them. He’d promised to protect her and their unborn child, and she wanted to believe in those words, but uncertainty still lingered. She felt vulnerable, both emotionally and physically, and Dante was her only anchor-one she wasn’t yet sure she could rely on.
A noise from the entrance hall broke her thoughts. She held her breath, moving quietly toward the large staircase, her heart thudding with a mix of relief and anticipation. She heard voices, laughing and murmuring, along with the sound of stumbling steps. Confused, Isla lingered at the top of the stairs, her heart sinking as she recognized Dante’s deep, slightly slurred voice.
“Dante… are you sure you’re all right?” came a light, feminine voice that sent a chill down Isla’s spine.
Isla watched from the shadows as Dante entered the hall, visibly intoxicated, his arm slung around a tall, striking woman with dark hair. The woman leaned into him, her laughter echoing through the hall as she ran her fingers up his arm, whispering something in his ear.
Isla’s breath caught as she watched Dante’s expression-there was a smirk on his face, a lazy sort of satisfaction that twisted her heart. She forced herself to stay hidden, not wanting them to notice her. But every moment she stood there, her chest tightened with a mixture of anger and heartache. She’d let herself believe that perhaps, in some small way, he cared for her and their child. But this scene shattered that fragile hope.
The woman whispered something again, and Dante chuckled, his gaze unfocused and indifferent as he leaned closer to her. Isla swallowed, unable to tear her eyes away. She could feel the sting of betrayal, of disappointment, coursing through her, burning her cheeks and making her hands tremble.
In a moment of weakness, she took a step forward, her heart screaming for her to confront him, to demand why he’d come back this way. But then, she froze, biting her lip to keep herself from making a sound. She wasn’t going to let him see her hurt.
The woman’s laugh cut through the silence again, and she tugged on Dante’s arm. “Show me around, won’t you?” she purred, tracing her hand along his jaw.
Dante’s gaze drifted to the woman, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he gestured down the hall. “The rooms are this way,” he murmured, his voice low and almost careless.
As he began to lead the woman down the hall, Isla felt as though the ground was crumbling beneath her. She wanted to shout, to cry, to make him see the pain he was causing. But something inside her forced her to stay quiet, to watch as he walked away with another woman, leaving her alone in the silence of the mansion.
When they disappeared down the hall, Isla clenched her fists, swallowing back the bitter tears that threatened to spill. She had been naive to think that he might truly care for her. Dante had always been a man of power, of control, and she’d foolishly thought that maybe her pregnancy had meant something to him beyond an obligation.
In the hours that followed, she returned to her room, closing the door behind her and leaning against it as the weight of the night settled onto her shoulders. She couldn’t sleep, her mind replaying the scene over and over again, each memory digging deeper into her wounded heart.
How could he do this? she wondered, biting her lip to keep from sobbing. How could he be so heartless?
Morning came, but it offered little comfort. Isla barely touched her breakfast, her thoughts clouded with frustration and pain. She paced her room, occasionally glancing at the door, wondering if Dante would come to see her, if he’d offer some kind of explanation.
Around noon, there was a soft knock on her door. Her heart jumped as she stood up, expecting to see Dante. But when the door opened, it was only Matteo, Dante’s trusted guard, who gave her a polite nod.
“Miss Isla,” he said quietly, his expression neutral, “Dante has asked for you to join him in the study.”
Her stomach twisted at the thought of facing him, especially after what she had seen last night. But she couldn’t avoid him forever. She had questions that needed answers, and she was tired of feeling powerless in this situation.
Taking a deep breath, she followed Matteo down the halls, each step feeling heavier than the last. When they reached the study, Matteo opened the door for her, and she stepped inside, finding Dante seated behind his desk, his expression unreadable.
He looked up as she entered, his gaze flickering briefly with something she couldn’t place. “Isla,” he greeted, his voice calm, almost detached. “Please, have a seat.”
She crossed her arms, staying where she was. “I’d rather stand.”
He raised an eyebrow, a hint of irritation flashing in his eyes. “As you wish.”
For a moment, there was only silence between them, the tension thickening with each passing second. Finally, Isla broke the silence, her voice laced with the anger and betrayal she’d been holding in.
“Who was she, Dante?” she demanded, her voice trembling slightly.
Dante’s expression remained impassive. “Who are you referring to?”
She scoffed, the bitterness spilling over. “The woman you brought home last night. I saw you with her, Dante. I saw everything.”
He met her gaze, unflinching. “It was nothing,” he replied, his tone dismissive. “Just a distraction.”
“Just a distraction?” Isla repeated, her voice rising. “Is that all it was to you? While I was here, believing your promises, you were out… with someone else?”
Dante’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, she saw a flicker of something in his eyes-guilt, perhaps? But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a cold, steely resolve.
“You don’t understand the world I live in, Isla,” he said, his tone hardening. “I have responsibilities, appearances to maintain. Last night… was necessary.”
“Necessary?” she whispered, feeling the sting of his words like a slap. “Is that what I am to you, Dante? Just another one of your ‘responsibilities’?”
Dante’s gaze softened for a brief moment, but he quickly masked it. “You’re carrying my heir,” he said, his voice low. “That’s not something I take lightly. But I can’t let myself get… distracted by emotions.”
A bitter laugh escaped her. “Emotions? Is that what this is to you-a game where you control everything and everyone around you?”
He stood up, moving around the desk until he was standing in front of her, his expression intense. “Isla, you knew from the beginning that I am not a man ruled by emotions. I live by control, by order.”
She met his gaze, refusing to back down. “Maybe that’s why you’re so afraid, Dante. Because you know you can’t control me.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched, and for a moment, she thought he might say something. But instead, he simply looked away, his silence speaking louder than any words could.
The distance between them felt insurmountable, and Isla felt the sting of betrayal settle deep within her heart. She turned to leave, her voice barely a whisper.
“You may control everything else in your life, Dante, but you will never control my heart.”
With those final words, she walked out of the study, leaving him alone in the silence he so fiercely clung to, her own heart aching with the weight of what she’d lost-and what she could never have.