Isabella POV
"Show me the contract."
Enzo looks up from his phone. We're still in the hospital room. I've been here two hours, processing everything. Now I'm done processing.
"Isabella, you need to rest—"
"Show me the contract my father signed." I swing my legs off the bed. My head throbs but I ignore it. "If I'm collateral, I want to see the paperwork."
Enzo hesitates. Then pulls out his phone. Pulls up a photo. Hands it to me.
I read it twice. Can't believe the words.
"In the event of non-payment, Victor Romano's daughter Isabella Romano shall transfer ownership to the Russo family for a period of no less than ten years, to be used in whatever capacity they deem fit."
My father's signature is at the bottom. Dated six months ago.
"He sold me." My voice sounds far away. "Like property. Like a car or a house."
"Yes."
"For ten years."
"Yes."
I look up at Enzo. "What does 'whatever capacity they deem fit' mean?"
His jaw clenches. "Whatever they want. Labor. Leverage. Marriage to one of their sons." He pauses. "Other things."
The room tilts. "You mean—"
"Yes." His voice is flat. Hard. "That's exactly what I mean."
I'm going to be sick.
"But the contract isn't legal, right?" I grip the phone. "You can't just sell a person. That's slavery. That's—"
"It's legal in our world." Enzo takes the phone back gently. "The mafia doesn't follow normal laws. We have our own courts. Our own judges. And in those courts, a signed contract between families is binding."
"That's insane."
"That's survival." He sits beside me on the bed. "The only way to break the contract is to pay the debt or..." He stops.
"Or what?"
"Or eliminate everyone who knows about it."
We sit in silence. Outside, guards patrol. Inside, machines beep steadily.
"How many people know?" I ask.
"The Russo family leadership. Maybe twenty people. Plus whoever your father told before he died."
Twenty people. Twenty murders to set me free.
"You've killed before," I say quietly. "Could you kill twenty people?"
Enzo looks at me. Really looks at me. "Is that what you want?"
"I don't know what I want." I stand up, pacing. "I want my life back. I want to not be owned by gangsters. I want my parents to not be dead traitors." My voice cracks. "I want to wake up and have this all be a nightmare."
"Isabella—"
"But it's not a nightmare. It's real. My father sold me. My mother tried to kill me. And now I'm legally owned by people who want to—" I can't finish the sentence.
Enzo crosses to me. Takes my hands. "Listen to me. You are not owned. Not by the Russos. Not by anyone."
"The contract says—"
"I don't care what the contract says." His grip tightens. "You're under my protection now. You're a Valentino. And I will burn every Russo alive before I let them touch you."
"You can't fight an entire family alone."
"I won't be alone." He pulls out his phone again. Makes a call. "Arthur. Conference room. Twenty minutes. We need to talk."
He hangs up. Looks at me.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"Calling a family meeting. If the Russos want war, we'll give them war."
Twenty minutes later, we're in a basement conference room. Safe house underneath the hospital. Steel walls. No windows. Guards at every door.
Arthur arrives first. He looks terrible. Exhausted. Stressed.
"What's so urgent?" he asks. Then sees me. "Jesus, Isabella. You look—"
"Like I was almost blown up? Yeah." I sit at the long table. "Thanks for noticing."
Marco arrives next. He goes straight to Arthur, whispers something. Arthur nods.
Then Sophia stumbles in. Still bandaged from her bullet wound. Guards escort her—she's technically a prisoner.
"Why am I here?" she asks Enzo.
"Because you're going to tell us everything you know about the Russo operation." Enzo's voice is ice. "Every detail. Every name. Every location."
"I already told you—"
"You told me about the bombs. That's not everything." He leans forward. "You worked with them for six months. You know their patterns. Their weaknesses. Their plans."
Sophia looks away. "If I tell you, they'll kill me."
"If you don't tell me, I'll kill you." Enzo doesn't blink. "Choose."
Arthur shifts uncomfortably. "Dad, maybe we could—"
"No." Enzo cuts him off. "She betrayed this family. She helped plant bombs. She doesn't get mercy. She gets a chance to earn her life back."
Sophia's eyes fill with tears. "I didn't want to. They threatened me. They said if I didn't help them, they'd—" She stops.
"They'd what?" I ask.
She looks at me. Really looks at me for the first time. "They'd give you to their enforcer. A man named Dante. He... collects girls. For his personal use."
The room goes silent.
"What does that mean?" But I already know. I just don't want to believe it.
"It means exactly what you think it means." Sophia's voice shakes. "I saw his collection once. Girls from debtor families. Girls who couldn't pay. Girls who—" She stops. Swallows. "I couldn't let that happen to you. So I agreed to help them. To spy. To plant bombs. Whatever they wanted."
My stomach churns. "You were trying to save me?"
"I was trying to save all of us. But it didn't work. Nothing works against them."
Enzo stands abruptly. Paces. His hands clench and unclench.
"This Dante," he says. "Where is he?"
"I don't know. He moves constantly. Different cities. Different countries."
"How many girls does he have?"
"Last I heard? Fifteen."
Arthur curses. Marco looks sick. I just sit there, numb.
Fifteen girls. Trapped. Used. Owned.
That was supposed to be me.
"We're going to find him," Enzo says. Voice deadly calm. "We're going to free those girls. And we're going to kill every single Russo who knew about this."
"You can't." Sophia shakes her head. "The Russos have allies. Other families. If you attack them, you'll start a war that—"
"I don't care." Enzo's eyes burn. "They put a price on Isabella's head. They tried to blow up my house. They threatened my family." He looks at each of us. "War is already here. We just have to decide if we're going to fight or surrender."
"I vote fight," Marco says quietly. Everyone turns to him. He shrugs. "What? I'm not letting some psycho collect my boyfriend's wife. Even if the marriage is fake."
Despite everything, I almost smile.
"Arthur?" Enzo asks.
Arthur looks at me. Then at Marco. Then at his father. "Fight. But we do it smart. We find allies. Build a coalition. The Russos aren't popular. Other families will join us if we—"
A gunshot cracks through the air.
Everyone ducks.
More gunshots. Coming from upstairs. Shouting. Screaming.
"They found us," Sophia whispers. "The Russos found us."
Enzo pulls his gun. "Everyone behind me. Now."
We huddle together as the door to the conference room explodes inward.
Men in masks flood in. But these aren't regular guards.
They're wearing Russo family colors.
And leading them is a man I've never seen before. Tall. Handsome. Cold eyes.
"Isabella Romano," he says, smiling. "I've been looking for you."
"Who are you?" I demand.
His smile widens. "Dante. Your new owner." He pulls out a piece of paper. The contract. "According to this legally binding agreement, you belong to the Russo family now. Specifically, you belong to me."
Enzo steps in front of me. "She belongs to no one."
"Actually, she does." Dante's men raise their guns. All pointed at Enzo. "And if you don't hand her over in the next ten seconds, everyone in this room dies."
"Then we all die," Enzo says calmly.
"Dad—" Arthur starts.
"Quiet." Enzo doesn't take his eyes off Dante. "You're not taking her."
"I wasn't asking permission." Dante nods to his men.
They rush forward.
Everything happens at once.
Enzo shoots. Arthur grabs Marco. Sophia screams.
And someone grabs me from behind.
I fight. Kick. Scratch. Bite.
But there are too many of them.
They drag me toward the door.
"Enzo!" I scream.
He's fighting three men. Can't reach me.
"Isabella!" He shoots one of my captors. But another one takes his place.
They're pulling me up the stairs. Out of the basement.
I see Enzo one last time. Blood on his face. Rage in his eyes.
"I'll find you!" he roars. "Do you hear me? I'll find you!"
Then a door slams.
And I'm thrown into the back of a van.
Dante climbs in beside me. Smiling.
"Welcome to your new life, Isabella." He brushes hair from my face. I try to bite him. He just laughs. "Oh, you have spirit. Good. I like breaking the spirited ones."
The van doors close.
We drive away.
And the last thing I see through the back window is the safe house.
Burning.