C48 She Told You That?

Dante strode in, his movements sharp and deliberate.

The faint scent of aged leather and wood polish lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of whiskey from the decanter on the side table.

It used to be his father’s favourite room where they had many discussions, but at the moment it felt stifling to him.

He would rather be holding Annabelle in his arms at that moment anyway.

Antonia stood near the window, her back straight, hands folded in front of her as though she were bracing herself.

The dim light filtering through the curtained window cast long shadows across her poised frame, but Dante wasn’t fooled.

There was tension in her shoulders, a flicker of unease in the way her fingers fidgeted against her skirt.

“Why are you here, Antonia?” Dante asked, his tone clipped, laced with irritation.

She turned slowly, her expression a carefully crafted mix of sorrow and apprehension. “I needed to speak with you, Tay. It’s important.”

“Will this talk have something to do with squirrelling my people away again?” He asked in a low tone, the warning clear in every syllable.

She took a cautious step toward him, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. “You know I already apologised about that, Tay. Also, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t serious. It’s about Isabella.”

Dante’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

The mention of Isabella’s name was like a match against flint, threatening to ignite something dangerous inside him.

“What about her?” he demanded.

Antonia hesitated, her gaze dropping as though searching for the right words. “I almost didn’t come,” she said softly. “I didn’t want to tarnish her image... especially not to you.”

Dante took a single step forward, his towering presence eclipsing her carefully rehearsed facade. “If you have something to say, say it. Now.”

Antonia flinched but quickly recovered, biting her lip as though weighing her options. “Fine,” she said, her voice trembling. “I heard something... something I didn’t want to believe at first.”

Dante’s patience wore thin. He stepped closer, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Spit it out, Antonia.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and glistening. “I heard Isabella was cheating on you, Dante. Before she died.”

The words struck him like a physical blow.

For a moment, the room seemed to tilt, the edges of his vision darkening as a cold rage began to pool in his chest.

“You’re lying,” he growled, his voice low and deadly.

“I swear I’m not!” Antonia’s voice rose with desperation.

She took a shaky step back, her hands raised as if to ward off his fury. “I didn’t want to believe it either, but I had to tell you. You deserve to know the truth.”

Dante’s glare could have cut steel. “Truth? You call this the truth?! What kind of sick fuck would lie about something like that? What has come over you, Antonia?”

She looked hurt as she looked at him, “You've known me for so long, Tay. You know I wouldn't...I brought proof.”

She quickly reached into her bag.

Her hands fumbled as she pulled out her phone. “I… I had to promise the person who told me that this wouldn’t come back to bite her in the ass. She finally let me do a voice recording, and…”

“Get to the point.”

Antonia quickly unlocked her phone and pressed play on an audio clip.

A woman’s voice, low and hesitant, crackled through the small speaker.

“Like I told you before; she was seeing someone,” the voice said. “One of those rich playboys. She gave her bodyguards the slip that night to meet him at that party. I saw her with my own eyes. I even heard her laughing about it with him while they danced. I left the party after that and only heard about the shit that went down later.”

The clip ended, and the silence that followed was deafening.

Dante stared at her, his chest rising and falling with barely contained fury.

“She was my friend, Tay,” Antonia said softly, her tone dripping with remorse. “I never wanted to hurt you like this. But how could I stay silent, knowing what she did to you? You deserve to know the truth and I will never cheat you of that. I love you like my own family, you know. It just pisses me off that any woman would dare to play you like that. You deserve better.”

Dante’s fists clenched, the veins in his arms bulging as he struggled to keep his composure. His voice was barely more than a growl. “You’re telling me that Isabella... cheated? With one of those men who died at that party?”

Antonia nodded, her expression carefully calibrated to reflect regret. “That’s what I was told. She deliberately gave her bodyguards the slip. I didn’t think she’d go that far, Tay. I swear I should have known when she kept talking about how distant you’d become after your father’s death. She said she could feel no connection between the two of you again.”

His voice was degrees colder when he asked, “She told you that?”

Antonia nodded hesitantly.

Dante’s control snapped like a frayed wire.

Fucking hell!

He and Isabella had promised each other never to air their issues with outsiders. He was supposed to be her fucking partner. She was supposed to come to him with any grievances she had. But instead, she had chosen to discuss their business in a chitchat?!

He turned away from her, his mind a storm of fury and disbelief.

Images of Isabella; her smile, her touch, the way she’d once looked at him, flashed through his mind, and he growled beneath his breath.

He wanted to rip something apart.

He wanted to put his gun into the next available object until there was nothing left.

Most of all, he wanted to see Isabella standing in front of him so he could demand answers.

“I’m sorry, Tay,” Antonia said, her voice quivering.

She took a step back, clutching her bag tightly. “I didn’t mean to cause you pain. I just... I couldn’t keep this from you any longer.”

He didn’t respond.

Taking his silence as dismissal, she moved toward the door.

But before leaving, she turned back, her voice dripping with concern which set his teeth on edge.

“I know this is hard for you,” she said. “But just... be careful. I know you’re tolerating Annabelle because she looks like Isabella, but you never know with people who seem innocent. They always have their schemes.”

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Dante alone in the suffocating silence of the study.

His chest heaved as he stared at the surrounding room, his gaze eventually settling on the shelf of figurines by the far wall.

They were a collection Isabella had insisted on keeping, trinkets she’d gathered from twelve countries during their travels.

“They’ll keep you company when I’m not around,” she’d said with that laugh that used to light up his world.

Now, they were nothing more than a mockery.

A cruel reminder of what he’d lost…and what might never have been real.

The recording played on repeat in his head, the damning words echoing like a death knell.

His jaw tightened as his rage reached a boiling point.

Before he could stop himself, he pulled his gun from its holster.

The first shot rang out, shattering the delicate figurine of a Spanish dancer.

Shards of porcelain exploded in every direction, scattering across the floor.

Another shot.

And another.

Each pull of the trigger brought a new wave of destruction, and the once-beautiful collection was reduced to rubble.

By the time the gun clicked empty, the shelf was bare, and the remnants of Isabella’s cherished trinkets were strewn like broken promises.

Dante stood there, his chest heaving, the acrid scent of gunpowder mingling with the bitter taste of betrayal.

His hand trembled as he lowered the gun, his mind a chaotic storm of anger, pain, and confusion.

Annabelle’s image mingled with that of Isabella in his mind and, for a moment, he couldn’t tell one apart from the other.

A piercing scream jerked him out of his thoughts.