The Mafia Don's Runaway Heiress Wife

Isabella POV

The deafening silence in my bedroom was suffocating. My brother, Julian, stared at me as if I had just held a loaded gun to his head. He lunged forward, slamming the heavy bedroom door shut.

"Have you lost your mind?" Julian’s voice trembled with a chilling terror I had never heard from him before. "You stabbed him with a letter opener, Isabella! He didn't send his Enforcers; he chose to decimate half our shipping routes as a warning. Now you want a divorce? That is a public betrayal to the Don and the entire Moretti family. What do you think he’ll do? Burn this estate to the ground, or put us all in coffins?"

The fire in my chest turned to ice. My brother's words were a brutal bucket of cold water. My defiance couldn't be bought with my family's blood. I forced my stiff hands to uncurl.

"I... I was just overwhelmed," I lied, my voice dropping to a low, calculated whisper. "Being locked in that wing... I lost my temper. I didn't mean it."

Julian exhaled a shaky breath, the immediate panic subsiding. He studied my pale face, his brow furrowed in deep confusion. "Bella, I've never seen you like this. Before, whenever you talked about him, there was hope. Or at least anger. Now... your eyes are just dead. It's just ice."

I stiffened. I couldn't tell him the truth. I couldn't expose him to the darkness of the Moretti estate. "This was a business deal, Julian," I said, my tone entirely detached. "And I'm terminating the contract."

Julian shook his head, frustrated by my coldness, and walked out, leaving a chasm between us.

*

Later that night, the scalding water of the shower did nothing to wash away the phantom weight of Damien's hands. I stepped out, wiping the thick steam from the mirror.

My breath hitched. There, blooming across my collarbone and shoulder, were the dark, possessive bruises from last night’s confrontation. A brand. Proof of his unyielding claim, binding me to the mafia's archaic laws.

Sofia stepped into the bathroom holding a plush towel. She froze, her eyes dropping to the marks. A soft gasp escaped her lips, her eyes flashing with sudden, heartbreaking realization.

"Not a word, Sofia," I commanded softly.

Staring at the bruises, a dangerous realization settled over me. I couldn't walk away. Julian was right; Damien's pride wouldn't allow it. But what if the ruthless, possessive Don was the one to break the bond? I had to make him despise me enough to throw me away.

*

Damien POV

The heavy oak doors of my penthouse office flew open. Julian Sterling marched in, his face flushed with misplaced righteous anger.

I didn't bother looking up from the shipping manifests on my desk.

"Whatever you did to her, it ends now," Julian demanded, slamming his hands on my desk. "Leave Bella alone. Let her go."

I finally raised my eyes, letting the cold, dead silence of the room press down on him until he shifted uncomfortably.

"'Let her go'?" I repeated, the corner of my mouth twitching with dark amusement. "Mr. Sterling, your sister leveraged your entire company just to become a Moretti. Are you entirely sure this sudden departure is her wish, or simply her newest trick?"

Julian’s jaw tightened. "You arrogant son of a—"

"Countess De Luca is hosting a charity gala next week," I interrupted, my voice dropping to a lethal, quiet register that made him freeze. "Tell Isabella that as my wife, I expect to see her there."

Julian glared at me, but he lacked the spine to push further. He turned and stormed out of my office.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the empty doorway. Isabella thought she could use her naive brother as a pawn to provoke me. She wanted my attention. I would give it to her, and remind everyone exactly who she belonged to.