Massimo's POV
I stood by the tall window in my office, staring down at the dark grounds of the estate. The explosion still echoed in my head—the heat, the fire, how close we had come to dying. My side still throbbed where I had hit the ground, but that pain was nothing compared to the storm in my mind. Isabella. Her face kept flashing back. The way she ran toward the car, desperate. The way she lied about her father.
A sharp knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts.
“Enter,” I said, voice cold.
The door opened. Markus walked in, looking serious, with a small, scared maid trailing behind him. She was young, eyes fixed on the floor, hands shaking at her sides.
“Don,” she whispered, barely loud enough to hear.
I turned fully toward her. “Did someone borrow your phone?”
She nodded
