Page 75 of The Beast's Broken Beauty

“Exactly," I rasp out "I've made that mistake before. I can't... I won't do it again."

I think about Elena, how she looks at Isabella with such adoration. How she's starting to look at me the same way. It's fucking terrifying.

"Not with Elena watching. What kind of example would that set? Christ, I never thought I'd be worrying about being a role model."

I pace the room again. "Having a kid... it changes things. Makes you see shit differently. But it shouldn't be what makes me act right. I should've been doing that all along. For Isabella, for myself. But now? Now I've got to be better. For Elena. For all of us."

"Boss," Franco says carefully, "if what they're saying is true, if Isabella's mother really has that kind of information..."

"I know," I cut him off, not wanting to hear it spoken aloud. The stakes are higher than ever. One wrong move and we could lose everything.

I lean against the window, staring out at the grounds. "Keep digging. And watch Isabella's father, too. If he so much as sneezes in our direction, I want to know about it."

As Franco leaves, I'm left alone with my thoughts and the growing realization that keeping Isabella here, keeping her safe, might be the biggest challenge of my life. And it's one I can't afford to fuck up. Not again. Not when there's so much at stake.

When there’s a message on my phone—I hope it’s Bella, telling me she reconsidered.

But it’s a number I don’t know.

It’s Stefanos.

The Greek brother who hates Isabella’s mother.

Meet me on the beach.

Alone.

Ten minutes. I have information you don’t want to miss about Isabella’s mother.

The sea's roaring like a pissed-off misunderstood monster, fog rolling in thick as smoke. Stefanos is pacing the beach like a caged animal, all tense muscles and barely contained rage.

"Your babysitters finally cut the leash?" I snarl, eyeing him. I've seen his type before, men who let others pull their strings. Hell, I used to be one of them, dancing to Isabella's father's tune. Look where that got me.

His brothers might be family, but it's clear as day he's not on board with their plan. Yet he's been playing along like a good little soldier. For what?

"I want her dead," he spits out, not wasting a second. "I want that snake dead for what she did to me. For the man who didn't deserve to die but took his last breath because of her."

I clench my fists, fighting the urge to knock some sense into him. "I'm not your fucking hired gun," I growl.

"No," he agrees, a sly look crossing his face. "But you don't want Isabella to go to Greece. You don't want her to—"

"To what?" I snarl, taking a step closer. "Spit it out."

Stefanos glances around, lowering his voice. "Isabella's mother... she's orchestrated more than she's letting on. Yeah, she's sick, but she needs Isabella for more than just that procedure."

My gut tightens. "What do you mean?"

"The treatment? It's experimental. Risky as hell. But that's not even the half of it." He runs a hand through his hair, agitated. "That love story with Isabella's father? The affair with Naomi's old man? It was all calculated. Every move, every 'relationship' – just ways for her to gain intel, to amass more power."

I feel my jaw clench. "Keep talking."

"Isabella's grandparents, they sent her mother to train with the best. Not just in social situations, but in manipulation, in gathering intel. She's been playing this game her whole life." Stefanos' eyes meet mine, dead serious. "And Isabella? She was just another pawn. Her mother was fine with her entering that fucked-up Bachelorette tournament. All she does is lie, Antonio. Every word out of her mouth is another manipulation."

My blood runs cold. "What's she after now?"

"She's been making promises, big ones. She's been—"

A shadow falls across the sand, cutting Stefanos off mid-sentence. We both tense, spinning to face the newcomer.

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