Page 84 of The Beast's Broken Beauty

It's a grim joke, but it breaks the tension. We laugh, because what else can we do?

As the evening wears on, I catch Isabella's eye. There's determination there. Fear, too. But she’s not hiding behind it. She’s not letting it take over.

Tomorrow, she leaves for Greece, and all this - the laughter, the easy conversation - it'll feel like a distant dream.

But for now, for these few hours, we let ourselves pretend. We're just friends having dinner.

And if I hold onto Isabella's hand a little tighter under the table, playing with her ring, well, nobody needs to fucking know.

Except me and my wife.

As the night wraps up, Connor and Naomi start saying their goodbyes. That's when I catch it - a look passing between Isabella and Naomi. It's quick, but loaded with meaning. They step aside for a moment, speaking in low voices. There's no giggling. Instead, they clasp hands, a firm shake that looks more like sealing a deal than a casual farewell.

I glance at Connor, and his eyes narrow slightly. We both know that look - it's the one that precedes a plan being set in motion.

The women embrace, holding on for a beat longer than necessary. When they pull apart, there's a steely determination in Isabella's eyes. I know that look. It's a look that means business, and it sends a jolt of both admiration and unease through me.

As we watch Connor and Naomi drive away, Isabella turns to me. Her face is a mask of calm, but there's an undercurrent of something... more. "I'm going to turn in," she says, her voice steady. "It's been a long day."

I nod, giving her the space she needs, trying to read between the lines. What the fuck is she up to?

I make my way to my room, my mind racing. Whatever Isabella's planning, I know it's going to be a game-changer. And as I push open my door, I can't shake the feeling that this night is far from over.

Chapter forty-nine

Isabella

DearAntonio,

I'm writing this letter before I walk into your bedroom, wondering if you've locked the door. If you have, well... I guess I'm out of luck.

I'm not trying to recreate the past. We can't go back to those days when you were just my forbidden crush, the one who made my heart flutter with a single glance. The one who watched me pirouette with those dark, hungry eyes that seemed to see right through me. The one who made me laugh so hard in the kitchen, I thought my sides would split.

No, you're not that boy anymore. And I'm not that naive girl. But Antonio, even now, even after everything, I still want to hear your laugh. I want to see that rare smile that lights up your whole face. I know you now - the Beast, the mob boss, the father. I've seen your darkness and your light. And yet,somehow, I still want more. I want to know every part of you, even the parts you try to hide.

We can’t go back.

But maybe we can create something more us, something real.

I know you think I might not come back from Greece. I know you don't understand why I have to leave. To be honest, I'm not sure I fully understand it myself. But I need this. I need to face my past, my mother.

I need to leave to be able to truly move forward.

To forgive you.

To forgive myself.

Because part of me knew what was happening… if I’m being honest with myself, I can admit to that. And for years, I believed I may have been responsible, in some way, for your mother’s death. But I know now there were always more hands pulling my strings. The ballerina meant to dance her way through a mafia world, where my womb and my blood had more power than my mind.

My blood still has power.

Do you know how strange that feels? For years, it felt like my blood was my enemy. Hodgkin's. Blood cancer.

It turned against me, tried to destroy me from the inside out. I can't donate blood, or a kidney, or anything else. My body, once my instrument, changed.

It took me several line of treatments before I became kinder to my body again. To realize how much it was trying to help me, too.

But now? Now I'm told my blood holds power in this world of ours. It's almost laughable, isn't it? Yet it's also oddly empowering. Maybe that's part of why I'm going to Greece. To reclaim something I thought I'd lost forever - not just my history, but a part of myself.

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