Dante sat at the dining table, eating quietly. Marcello sat nearby, eager to impress his powerful guest.
Sofia had returned after composing herself. She now wore a pleasant smile, as though nothing had happened.
“Mr. Moretti, would you like some whiskey?” she asked politely. “My father has a wonderful collection.”
She brought out a bottle from Marcello’s liquor collection and poured the drink carefully.
“I also know a little about cigars,” she added confidently. “My father has taught me quite a few things.”
Marcello smiled proudly.
“That’s my daughter. Sofia has always been intelligent and well-mannered.”
He glanced at Dante, hoping for some approval.
“She knows how to behave in respectable company.”
Dante barely reacted. He continued eating, showing little interest in either Sofia’s performance or Marcello’s praise.
Grandmother Rebecca was resting in her room. The earlier commotion had caused a slight rise in her blood pressure, and the family had insisted that she take some rest.
Marcello glanced toward the empty chair where Rebecca usually sat.
“My mother is resting tonight,” he explained. “She became a little unwell because of the earlier disturbance.”
Dante gave a small nod.
Marcello then turned his attention back to Sofia.
“She is my daughter, Mr. Moretti. I raised her with good manners and taught her how to behave properly.”
He paused before adding, “Unlike some people in this family.”
His eyes shifted toward Isabella.
“She has always been difficult. You cannot expect much from someone who grew up in a shelter.”
Isabella, who had been sitting quietly, felt those words pierce her heart.
Even now, her own father spoke about her as though she were a burden.
She lowered her head, trying to hide the sadness in her eyes.
Dante slowly raised his gaze.
He looked directly at Isabella.
A faint smile touched the corner of his lips.
Sofia noticed.
Her smile faded slightly as she followed Dante’s gaze toward Isabella.
Why was he looking at her like that?
Dante finally spoke.
“You know something, Marcello?”
Marcello immediately straightened.
“What is it, Mr. Moretti?”
“When I look at Isabella, she reminds me of one of my enemies.”
The words made Isabella’s blood run cold.
Dante placed his cutlery down and leaned back in his chair.
“If I ever get my hands on that woman, I’ll crush every bone in her body. I’ll make sure she regrets the day she was born. Her flesh will be thrown to the crocodiles, and whatever remains of her will become food for my dogs.”
He paused, his eyes fixed on Isabella.
“I want her to understand what happens when someone dares to cross Dante Moretti.”
Marcello swallowed nervously, but he quickly forced a smile.
“You are absolutely right, Mr. Moretti. Some people deserve to be taught a lesson.”
Then he glanced at Isabella with open contempt.
“Look at her expressions. She always looks so cunning and cowardly. Perhaps that is what happens when someone grows up without a proper family.”
Isabella felt her throat tighten.
She had hoped that returning to her family would mean finally being accepted.
Instead, her father seemed determined to remind her that she did not belong.
Dante’s expression changed.
The faint smile disappeared. His face darkened as he heard Marcello speak about Isabella’s childhood.
For a moment, something cold and dangerous flickered in his eyes.
He wanted so badly to snap, "How dare you speak about her like that?" but he kept the thought to himself and said nothing.
He did not understand why Marcello’s words irritated him so much.
He had spent years dealing with enemies, traitors, and people who deserved no mercy. Yet hearing Isabella’s own father humiliate her made something inside him tighten.
Dante looked at her again.
She sat silently, trying not to show how deeply she had been hurt.
Why do I keep looking at her?
He had no answer.
Somewhere beneath his cold exterior, a feeling he could neither name nor control was beginning to grow.
He was already falling for her.
He simply hadn't realized it yet.
And Isabella, terrified by the man sitting across the table, could never have imagined such a thing.
To her, Dante Moretti was still the monster who might destroy her life.