The days after Isabella's intrusion dragged on like unspoken accusations. The mansion buzzed with activity, preparations for another gathering of allies, meetings with lieutenants, the constant shuffling of men with weapons and unreadable eyes but for Aria, the world had shrunk into a storm that refused to quiet inside her chest.
Every time she thought of Isabella's smirk, of the way she had spoken with such confidence about Luca's past, jealousy sank claws into her heart. She hated how it consumed her, hated that she couldn't simply brush it off. But most of all, she hated the shadows of doubt that began creeping into her thoughts at night.
Was she only a placeholder? A temporary solution for Luca's empire?
Or worse, was she a pawn in a game lsabella already knew how to play better?
