BENEATH THE LIES

CHAPTER 9

The days that followed blurred into one long haze of exhaustion and frustration. No matter where Isabelle turned, no matter how hard she tried to claw her way out of the hole he had shoved her into, it felt like the walls were closing in, tighter and tighter. His presence was everywhere—unseen but undeniable. Every time she thought she could breathe, every time she thought she could catch a moment of peace, he was there, lurking, watching, waiting.

Her father’s past had been a long, bitter memory, a shadow that she could never fully escape. But this—this was something new. Something personal.

She had heard rumors, whispers in the office, in the streets, in the press. The tabloids painted her as a villain, a symbol of her father’s failure, a woman doomed to suffer because of the sins of the man who had raised her. And it wasn’t just that her company was crumbling. It was that she had become the face of everything wrong in Florence’s elite circles. There was no redemption in sight.

But nothing in the past few weeks had prepared her for the feeling that settled deep inside her stomach every time she thought of him—him being Dante Lombardi, the man who had sworn to destroy her life, piece by piece.

She hadn’t seen him in days, but his shadow still haunted her. His words echoed in her mind. He was right about one thing: her father’s betrayal had ruined his family. But it was her father who had pulled the trigger. She was also a victim of all the scars that her father gave her and her mom. She had nothing to do with any of it, and yet here she was, paying the price. The thought of it made her furious, but the anger was always followed by a sharp pang of fear, a reminder of how completely he had taken control of her life.

Her phone rang, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced down at the screen, heart sinking when she saw the name. It wasn’t Dante this time—it was one of her few remaining investors, someone who had stuck by her, despite the mounting pressure.

“Hello?” she answered, her voice a little too tight.

“Isabelle, we need to talk,” the voice on the other end said, the tone flat.

She sat back in her chair, the weight of the call settling in her chest. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re being targeted, Isabella,” the investor continued. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but every financial move, every strategic decision you’ve made lately has been sabotaged.”

Her breath caught. "Sabotaged?" She felt a tremor of disbelief and anger run through her. “Who would do that?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. She could practically hear the man trying to find the right words, but he finally said, “You know who.”

Dante Lombardi.

Her blood ran cold, her skin prickling with the realization. Of course it was him. It had to be.

“What do you mean, sabotaged?” she asked, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice, but failing. She was slipping.

“I’m sorry, Isabella. I tried to keep you afloat, but this is getting too complicated,” the investor said. “I can’t continue like this. There’s too much pressure. Too much bad press surrounding you. I’m pulling out.”

She could feel her chest tightening as the words hit her like a punch. “Wait, please—don’t do this. I can fix this. Just give me a little more time—”

“It’s already too late. We’re out.” And then the line went dead.

She sat in stunned silence, staring at her phone, a gnawing emptiness filling her chest. They were all leaving. One by one, they were all pulling away, distancing themselves from the ruin that was her name. Her legacy. She was losing everything.

But she wasn’t surprised. She had expected it. Somewhere deep inside, she had known this was coming.

What had Dante said? That she would fall, that she would break, that he would be there to watch her suffer.

He was right.

She slammed the phone down, her hands shaking. There was nothing left to hold onto now. No career. No business. No way to fight. Every day, it felt like the walls were closing in more and more. It wasn’t just the company that was dying. It was her. She was suffocating under the weight of all of it—the past, the betrayal, the weight of a world that refused to forgive.

She stood up from her desk and paced around the room, trying to breathe, trying to calm herself. But nothing helped. The pressure, the anger, the sense of helplessness—it was all too much. She couldn’t escape it.

She needed a drink.

The thought of escaping for a few hours, losing herself in the bottom of a glass of wine, seemed like the only option at this point. She grabbed her coat and headed out of the office, moving quickly, not caring about the rain that had begun to fall outside. Her heels clicked against the wet pavement as she moved through the crowded streets of Florence. The city that once felt like home now felt foreign to her. She was a stranger in her own life.

...........

The bar was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of whiskey and stale smoke. Isabelle found a seat at the far end of the bar, away from the crowds. The bartender recognized her, but she didn’t acknowledge him. She just needed something to numb the pain, the relentless pressure.

“Red wine,” she murmured, staring into the glass as if it could offer her some relief.

She took the first sip, savoring the bitterness that hit her tongue. For a moment, it was enough to dull the constant buzz of anxiety, the thudding in her chest. But it wasn’t long before the weight of everything came crashing back.

Her phone buzzed on the table.

She ignored it at first, but after a few moments, the vibrating got louder, more persistent. Reluctantly, she glanced at the screen.

It was him.

Dante.

Her heart lurched in her chest. What did he want now?

With a shaky hand, she picked up the phone, tapping the message to open it.

You should know, Isabella, I’m just getting started.

Her stomach dropped. The words were like a punch, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. He was watching her—he was always watching, always lurking in the background, waiting for the right moment to make his move.

She gritted her teeth and put the phone down. But it wasn’t enough. His words lingered in her mind, taunting her. The same words he had said in their last encounter. "When I'm done with you, you'll understand what it means to be broken."

He had said he wanted to watch her fall.

And she was.

Every day, she was falling deeper into the abyss, and there was no one to stop it.

Her glass was empty before she even realized it. She stared at it for a moment, the liquid inside reflecting the dim lights of the bar. She needed to get out of here. She couldn’t do this anymore. The isolation, the fear, the crushing weight of his cruelty—it was breaking her down.

Without thinking, she grabbed her coat and stood up. She needed air. She needed space. She needed something to remind her that she was still alive.

As she stepped out into the cold night, the city wrapped its arms around her like a cage. But for the first time in weeks, there was a small spark inside her, a flicker of defiance.

She wasn’t done yet. She wouldn’t let him win. Not without a fight.