"Danger rarely announced itself—it slithered silently, patient and calculating. Ava felt it in the air, the way whispers coiled around her like smoke. Somewhere in the darkness, a serpent watched… waiting for the perfect moment to strike."
The crystal glass shattered against the marble wall, scattering shards across the floor like glittering fragments of Isabella's patience. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, furious breaths as she paced her private salon, every step punctuated by the sharp click of her heels.
"He failed me," she hissed to no one, her manicured nails curling into fists. "That useless, arrogant bastard failed me."
Ethan was supposed to have delivered Ava neatly into ruin. Drugged, broken, humiliated—removed from Dante's world. But instead, Isabella had received word of his pitiful defeat: Dante storming in, rescuing Ava like some knight draped in shadows, and punishing Ethan like the pathetic rat he was.
Isabella's lips twisted into a snarl. It was supposed to be perfect. Ava was supposed to be a memory by now, not a woman lying in Dante's mansion, guarded like a queen.
Her rage simmered into something darker, colder. "If men won't do it right," she murmured, "then women will."
She reached for her phone, her fingers steady despite the fire blazing in her chest. A name glowed on the screen, one she had been keeping tucked away for the right moment.
Claire.
Isabella had always known of her—a pretty little thing with ambition but no true fire, a woman who had hovered in Ava's shadow until bitterness consumed her. Isabella remembered the whispers, the scandal when Claire had been caught in Ethan's bed. Most women would have been ashamed. Claire hadn't been. She had only grown more venomous toward Ava afterward.
Perfect.
Isabella dialed.
The call was answered almost immediately, Claire's voice sharp and cautious. "Who is this?"
"Someone who knows what you want," Isabella purred. "And someone who wants the same thing."
There was a pause. "…Isabella Marino?"
"So my reputation precedes me. Good." Isabella allowed a smile to curve her lips. "We need to talk. Face to face. About Ava."
The silence on the other end stretched, but Isabella could hear Claire's breathing quicken. Then, finally, the venomous reply came.
"Where?"
They met in a private lounge tucked inside one of the city's exclusive hotels, a place where curtains hung heavy and whispers were safe. Isabella arrived first, draped in a wine-colored dress that clung to her frame like liquid silk, her presence commanding as she sat with a glass of champagne.
Claire arrived moments later, her strides brisk, her jaw tight. She looked different from the girl Isabella remembered—harder, sharper, her eyes carrying the weight of someone who had burned bridges and never looked back.
"Why am I here?" Claire asked coldly, sliding into the chair opposite Isabella.
Isabella tilted her head, studying her like a specimen. "Because you hate Ava Sinclair. And because I can give you the chance to finally destroy her."
Claire flinched slightly at the name, her lips tightening. She tried to mask the flicker of emotion, but Isabella saw it. The jealousy. The resentment.
"Why?" Claire demanded. "Why do you care what happens to her?"
Isabella's smile sharpened. "Because she's standing in my place. Dante is mine. Always has been. And yet, this… insignificant woman has slipped into his arms. She needs to be reminded of her place—and then erased."
Claire let out a bitter laugh. "You think Dante Marino will just let that happen? He's obsessed with her."
"Oh, I don't plan to move openly." Isabella leaned closer, her perfume swirling like poison between them. "But Ava has weaknesses. You know them better than anyone. And together, we can peel her apart piece by piece. Quietly. Thoroughly. Until Dante looks at her and sees nothing but ruin."
Claire stared at her, torn between skepticism and temptation. "And what do I get out of this?"
"What you've always wanted," Isabella said smoothly. "To watch Ava lose everything. To finally take her crown, and leave her crawling."
Claire's silence was telling. She was hooked.
"You think I hate her," Claire said finally, her tone sharp. "But hate isn't the right word. It's… it's resentment. She always had everything come easy to her. The men. The admiration. Even at work, people liked her more. I was the one putting in extra hours, doing the dirty work, but somehow Ava was always the shining star."
Her hands curled into fists on the table. "And Ethan—he chose me, yes. But even then, he never stopped talking about her. Always comparing. Always wondering. Even in bed, I was a shadow of her. Do you know what that does to me?"
Isabella's smile widened with quiet satisfaction. "Yes," she whispered. "I know exactly what that does."
For a moment, the two women simply sat there, their unspoken bitterness binding them together like chains of iron. Two serpents circling the same prey.
Isabella reached across the table, her manicured fingers brushing the stem of Claire's glass. "You've already proven useful. You lured her to Ethan at that restaurant."
Claire's lips curved into a cold smile. "And she walked right into it, thinking it was her chance to shine."
"But Ethan was a fool," Isabella snapped, the sharpness of her tone cutting through the air. "He couldn't finish the job. That's why I need you. You're smarter. Closer. Ava still trusts you, doesn't she?"
Claire hesitated, then shrugged. "She tolerates me. Enough that I could get close again if I play it right."
"Good." Isabella's eyes glittered like shards of obsidian. "Because next time, there won't be mistakes. We'll hit her where she least expects it. At work. In her career. In her so-called friendships. Everywhere until she's gasping for air."
Claire tilted her head, studying Isabella. "And then what? When she's destroyed, what happens to her?"
Isabella's smile was cold, cruel. "Then she disappears. Permanently."
For the first time, Claire's eyes flickered with unease. But just as quickly, she masked it with a smirk.
"Fine," she said. "I'm in. Ava's going down."
Isabella lifted her glass, the champagne fizzing like venomous laughter. "To Ava Carter," she said. "May she crumble beautifully."
Claire clinked her glass against Isabella's, her smile sharp as broken glass.
As the two women plotted, Dante's men were already watching. From a nearby booth cloaked in shadow, one of Lorenzo's soldiers snapped a discreet photo of Isabella and Claire clinking glasses, their faces sharp with intent.
He sent the picture immediately to Lorenzo with a short message:
The serpent found her ally.
And so, while Isabella believed herself to be weaving the perfect snare, the Don's web was tightening around her in silence.
But she didn't know that yet. For now, her fury had turned into something colder, deadlier. With Claire at her side, Isabella felt untouchable.
And Ava had no idea the two women who hated her most had just join
"You think you're safe because he's near?" the voice hissed from the shadows. Ava froze, her pulse pounding. The figure stepped forward, eyes gleaming with malice. "Even serpents know how to strike when the lion isn't watching."