Isabella's POV.
The mansion felt different now.
More quieter and heavier.
Gone were the sounds of Damian's command echoing through the halls replaced by her own voice, sharper, steadier.
She stood before the long mahogany table in the war room, maps and documents spread before her.
The Moretti men filled the space, all eyes on her. Luca stood at her side, unreadable but loyal.
"We lost three supply routes this week," she said flatly. "All traced back to the Romani docks. Marco's fingerprints are all over it."
A murmur rippled through the men.
Luca crossed his arms. "He's working with both your father and the council. He's not just betraying us, he's profiting from it."
Isabella's jaw tightened.
"Then he's mine."
The men exchanged looks. Her tone didn't allow an argument.
Luca sighed, lowering his voice. "You've barely slept. You don't eat. You…."
"I'm fine," she cut in.
He hesitated. "Damian wouldn't want you…"
"Damian isn't here."
