Writer's POV
In a split second, everything changed as the gunshot reverberated through the church like thunder. When Isabella Romano saw the man with the gun approaching her, her heart stopped. Her father had shown her pictures of that face, and she recognized it. Santoro Marco. The adversary. The man who wished to ruin her family.
However, there was a problem. Absolutely incorrect.
Her dad had a smile. Not the joyous grin of a father witnessing his daughter's marriage. When he was about to win a war, Vincent Romano wore this icy, menacing smile.
"Papa?" Isabella muttered, but Vincent didn't give her a look. He was staring at Marco as if he had been waiting all his life for this moment.
Marco halted his stride. Isabella saw the bewilderment in his dark eyes. Fear was what he had anticipated. He had anticipated mayhem. It had surprised him that Vincent Romano appeared to be enjoying the attack.
Vincent yelled, "Marco Santoro," over the yelling guests. "On time."
Isabella's thoughts were racing. On schedule? What was meant by that? Had her father anticipated this outcome?
Anthony took hold of her arm. "We have to run, Isabella. Now."
Isabella, however, was immobile. The pieces of a terrible puzzle were fitting together in her mind as she gazed at her father. The manner in which he had demanded this marriage. He had appeared dejected but resolute. The way he had given her a particularly strong embrace this morning.
"You set this up," she said in a voice that was hardly audible.
Isabella saw something that made her blood freeze when Vincent finally turned to face her. Shame. Her own father appeared to be at fault.
"I can explain, sweetheart—"
Isabella's voice grew louder as she said, "You used me as bait. You allowed me to walk down this aisle even though you knew he was coming for me."
The church was still in disarray. People were running for the exits and screaming. Isabella, however, felt as though she, her father, and Marco were the only people in her bubble.
Marco's gun was now aimed at the ground as he stared at them both. "Vincent, what game are you playing?"
"No game," said Vincent. "Just completing what you began three years ago."
Isabella was devastated. It was three years ago. When Sofia Santoro passed away. When the conflict began. She had been her father's weapon during the three years that he had been planning this.
Marco said slowly, "The anonymous tip about the wedding. That was you."
"Of course it was me," Vincent said. "Did you really believe that my family could be spied on for months by a stranger because my security was so poor?"
Isabella was ill. "How could you, Papa?"
Vincent said, "Because I love you," and Isabella could hear the anguish in his voice. "Because unless one of us took drastic action, this war would never end. Because I'd rather die than see you grow up in such violence."
Marco brought his gun up once more. "Then you're a fool. You can't stop me from taking your daughter."
"I don't want to stop you," Vincent stated coolly. "Take her, please."
Isabella felt the words strike her like a blow to the body. Her own father desired her abduction. Desired for their adversary to capture her.
"What?" Marco appeared just as perplexed as Isabella.
"Take her," Vincent said again. "Keep her secure. Put an end to this conflict. Give us both what we desire."
Isabella's legs were weak. She grabbed Anthony's hand, but he was looking horrified at her father.
"Vincent Romano," Anthony uttered, his voice trembling with rage. "You're handing your daughter over to the enemy?"
Vincent answered, "I'm giving my daughter a chance at peace. Something that neither of our families has had in a decade."
Marco faltered with his gun. "You're crazy."
"Am I? By stealing Isabella, you intended to harm me. I'll let you take her. Now what?"
Then Isabella got it. Marco's bluff was being called by her father. He was placing a wager that Marco Santoro wasn't a true monster. That an innocent girl would not be harmed by him.
However, what if he was mistaken?
Isabella said, "Papa," with more force in her voice. "I refuse to be used as a pawn by anyone. Not his, not yours."
She moved forward, away from her father and Anthony, until she was directly in front of Marco. She was no longer afraid, even though the gun was aimed at her chest. She was upset.
She asked Marco, "You want to kidnap me? All right. You're not hurting my father, though. You are acting in this way because you are unable to cope with the loss of your sister."
Marco's face turned pale. "Stop talking."
"Sofia was eight years old," Isabella added. "She enjoyed birthday celebrations, ice cream, and dolls. She wasn't worthy of dying."
"Shut up!" I said.
"And she won't return if you kidnap me!"
Marco's grip on the gun trembled. Isabella briefly felt sorry for him because she could see tears in his eyes. All he was was a broken man who missed his younger sister.
Then she recalled that he had aimed a gun at a church full of defenseless people.
"So what's it going to be?" Isabella enquired. "Will you shoot me in front of everyone here? Will you demonstrate that you are, in fact, the monster that everyone claims you are?"
Marco gazed at her for a while. Then he turned to face the terrified faces observing him throughout the church. Elderly people. Youth. Kids.
"No," he muttered. "I will not shoot you."
Isabella was relieved for a moment. Then Marco grinned, and it was the iciest smile she had ever seen.
"I'm going to take you," he declared. "And I will make your father regret ever believing he could outsmart a Santoro."
Marco firmly but gently took Isabella's arm. "I'm bringing you along. Now."
"Give her up!" Three of Marco's men materialized behind Anthony, obstructing his progress as he moved forward.
"Don't," Isabella cautioned Anthony. "Don't risk your life for me."
"I can't just let him take you!"
Isabella sadly replied, "Yes, you can. Because my dad has already."
She gave Vincent one final glance. There was pain on her father's face, but there was also resolve. He was adamant that this was the proper course of action.
Isabella told him, "I'll never forgive you for this."
"I know," said Vincent. "But maybe you'll understand when you're alive, safe, and content someday."
Marco pulled Isabella along as he began to move toward the exit. She didn't turn around, but she could hear shouting and sobbing behind them.
Black cars waited outside the church. In one car, Marco opened the rear door and motioned for Isabella to enter.
She said, "Where are you taking me?"
"Somewhere safe," Marco stated. "For both of us."
Isabella watched her wedding vanish through the back window as the car drove away from the church. Anthony stood looking heartbroken on the steps. Her father was chatting with recently arrived police officers.
Marco, who was seated across from her in the car, remarked, "Your father thinks he's so smart. He believes he has control over this situation."
"Can't he?" Isabella enquired.
Marco smiled dangerously. "He's going to discover that there are other people who are skilled at playing games besides Vincent Romano."
Isabella's spine froze. "What do you mean?"
Marco remarked, "Your father sent you a coded message in that church. In all his talk about sacrifice and love, hidden."
"What message?"
"He informed you that he had spent three years organizing this. That he has been preparing you for something. That he has been concealing information."
Isabella's heart began to race. "How are you aware of—"
Marco cut in, "Because I know everything about your family. Including the fact that you are more than just the daughter of Vincent Romano."
Isabella gazed at him. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm referring to the secret that your father has been hiding from everybody. Including you."
"What secret?"
Marco leaned forward and met her gaze. "You're more than just a mafia princess, Isabella Romano. Vincent Romano has selected you as his heir. His successor. The Romano crime family's future leader."
The world seemed to be spinning around Isabella. "That isn't feasible. I'm simply—"
"What exactly? A typical girl with the ability to read business reports? A typical girl who can tell a lie from across the room and speaks four languages? A typical girl enrolled in 'self-defense classes' that bear a striking resemblance to combat training?"
Isabella's mouth became parched. How was any of that known to him?
Marco went on to say, "Your father has been preparing you to take over his empire. Everyone will now believe that you are a defenseless victim as a result of today's brief performance. The most dangerous woman in New York has the ideal disguise."
Isabella's thoughts were racing. All of Marco's statements were incredibly logical. Private tutors. She was permitted to observe the business meetings. The manner in which her father consistently sought her input on significant choices.
As the car turned onto a dark road leading out of the city, Marco said, "So congratulations. You are more than just my prisoner. You are my prize."
Isabella's veins felt cold. "What will you do with me?"
Marco grinned coldly and cruelly. "I intend to use Vincent Romano's covert weapon against him. I will turn the future head of the Romano family into a Santoro."
"If you think I'll help you, you're crazy."
"Oh, Isabella," Marco said in a tone that bordered on sympathy. "You still don't understand, do you?"
"Understand what?"
"Your father did not simply allow me to take you. He requested that I take you. This indicates that he planned the entire event, including the wedding and the kidnapping."
Isabella sensed that everything was falling apart. "No. That isn't feasible."
Marco took out his phone and said, "Then tell me. Why did your father's spy in my company just text me to say that Phase One is finished? Await additional instructions."
Isabella gazed at the phone screen while her father's coded message glowed in the shadows.
And came to the realization that she no longer knew who she could trust.