Page 423 of Rosetti Family New York
"You orchestrated the whole thing," Rafe says slowly.
"Of course I did. Your brother Leonardo was so delightfully distracted by his arranged marriage. New wife, new responsibilities, all that domestic bliss. He barely glanced at the books for months." Chase's smile turns predatory. "It was almost too easy."
My hands start to shake. Not from fear, but from rage building in my chest like steam in a pressure cooker. "You used Dale to destroy them from the inside."
"I let the Rosettis destroy themselves," Chase corrects, his voice dropping to that intimate tone he's always used with me. "One dead cousin, a family fracture, months of paranoia and investigation. All while I liquidated assets and prepared for tonight."
"Tonight?" I keep my voice level, though my pulse hammers against my throat.
"The elimination of both families' leadership." Chase's mask finally slips completely. The gentle uncle disappears, replaced by something cold and calculating and utterly ruthless. "This warehouse was wired with enough explosives to level three city blocks. A tragic end to a bloody war, with no survivors to tell inconvenient truths."
"You were going to kill Isabella too," Rafe realizes.
"Isabella was always going to die tonight." Chase's pale eyes focus on my face with laser intensity. "She served her purpose, legitimizing my rule for fifteen years. But she's learned too much now, become too dangerous."
"Just like my parents did," I say quietly.
"Exactly like your parents." Chase's composure cracks slightly, fifteen years of carefully maintained affection dissolving. "Tommy and Mariana were weak leaders who would have destroyed everything I built. The Callahan empire needed someone with vision, with backbone."
"So you murdered them."
"I saved this empire from their incompetence! I turned the Callahan name into something that matters, something that commands respect." His voice rises, fanatic intensity bleeding through the cultured facade. "And you, my dear Isabella, were perfect for what I needed. A beautiful, educated heir to give legitimacy to my rule. You never asked questions, never demanded power, never threatened my authority."
"You made me into a lie." I pull the gun from behind my back, and Chase's eyes widen. "Every moment of my life has been built on their murder."
"Isabella." His voice drops to that manipulative whisper again, the one that shaped my entire childhood. "You were perfect forwhat I needed. A beautiful puppet who never asked questions. But now..."
"I understand perfectly." The weapon feels steady in my hands, solid and real in a way nothing else has for days. "You killed them to steal their empire. And you kept me alive because I was useful. A puppet you could control."
"Kill you?" Chase laughs, but it sounds hollow, desperate. "Isabella, you were never a threat. You were perfect—beautiful, obedient, completely uninterested in real power. Why would I—"
His hand moves toward the desk drawer with practiced smoothness.
"Gun!" Rafe shouts.
Chase's fingers close around a pistol just as I squeeze the trigger.
The shot echoes through the warehouse like thunder. Chase stumbles backward, staring down at the spreading crimson stain across his white shirt with genuine surprise.
"You shot me." He says it like he can't quite believe it.
"You killed them." I keep the gun trained on him as he slumps against the wall. "You killed my parents and made me love you for it."
"They were... they were going to take you away." Red bubbles at the corner of his mouth. "To London. Going to... raise you normal. Weak."
"They were going to love me." The words come out broken, raw. "Without conditions. Without making me earn it by being perfect."
Chase slides down the wall, leaving a wet smear on the concrete. But his eyes are still sharp, still calculating.
"You think... you think the Rosettis are better?" He coughs, specks of crimson hitting the floor. "They're using you too, Isabella. Different cage... same bird."
"Maybe." I don't lower the gun. "But they never murdered my family and made me grateful for it."
"I made you... powerful." His voice is getting weaker, but his eyes burn with fanatic intensity. "I made you into something... that matters."
"You made me into a victim." I take a step closer. "But I'm done being what you created."
Chase's hand twitches toward something on his belt. A backup weapon. A knife. In the dim light, I can't tell which.
