ISABELLA
Adrian wanted the gala done in five days. A normal person would have said it was impossible. But nothing in my life was normal anymore. And Adrian didn’t give impossible tasks. He gave warnings disguised as instructions.
The gala wasn’t just a party. It was bait. A trap. A stage built to draw the shadow out of hiding — the traitor in his bloodline. The one Lombardi died before naming.
So I threw myself into the planning. Because if I didn’t keep moving, I would drown in the silence Adrian had wrapped himself in since Italy.
The event hall Adrian chose was one the Salvatores owned — a massive, glass‑walled structure overlooking the river. Elegant, modern, and fortified. Every inch of it was designed for beauty and control. Perfect for a gala and for a trap.
Sophia and Bianca
