Isabella’s steps faltered as she walked out of the room, her mind racing for any possible way to escape. Her eyes scanned the area, but before she could even begin to formulate a plan, Jessica’s voice cut through her thoughts like a blade.
"Don’t waste my time thinking about escape, baby," Jessica said coolly, standing up from the sofa. Her expression was harsh, her words void of any warmth. "And act obedient when you meet my husband. You have a wedding tomorrow."
Isabella froze, her heart seizing in her chest. A wedding? Her eyes widened in sheer terror, the blood draining from her face. She imagined the worst—a life married to some cruel, old man like her uncle, who would beat her, control her, and treat her like nothing more than property. The thought alone made her knees buckle.
Her body began to tremble uncontrollably, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. She couldn’t get air into her lungs—her chest felt like it was caving in. Panic set in fast, overwhelming her senses, drowning her in fear.
"Ma’am, she’s having a panic attack," one of the black-clothed men said, his voice edged with concern. He stepped forward slightly, unsure of what to do.
Jessica rolled her eyes, visibly annoyed. "I hate this! All this drama... Weak. Pathetic. Unloved. Useless." She let out a long sigh, as if the sight of Isabella suffering was just a minor inconvenience in her day. "Bring the syringe and knock her out. Her whimpering is getting on my nerves."
The man hesitated, glancing at Isabella, clearly uncomfortable with the order.
"Did you hear me?" Jessica snapped, her voice sharp and commanding. "Go! Now!"
The man flinched at her tone, quickly obeying. He hurried out of the room and returned within moments, holding a syringe in his hand. Isabella’s wide, panicked eyes locked onto the needle, her breath hitching even more. Tears welled up in her eyes as she shook her head, silently pleading for mercy.
But there was none. The man approached her cautiously, and her instinct to survive kicked in. Isabella stumbled backward, trying to put distance between them, but there was nowhere to run.
Her vision blurred with tears as she whispered desperately, "Please... don’t..."
But Jessica merely smirked, crossing her arms as she watched with detached amusement. "Don’t make this harder on yourself, baby. Just take a little nap," she cooed, her voice sickeningly sweet, yet dripping with malice.
Isabella’s heart thundered in her chest as the man stepped closer, syringe in hand. Every muscle in her body tensed with dread, and the room began to spin.
**
Isabella woke up slowly, her body sinking into the softness of the bed beneath her. Her head felt heavy, the remnants of sleep still clinging to her senses. But the sound of crying pulled her from the fog, dragging her back into the harsh reality she’d been trying to escape.
"Hubby... woooo... I found my daughter after so long, and look at her condition," Jessica sobbed dramatically, sitting on the edge of the bed. She had her face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she cried. "I told you my ex-husband was abusive, but I didn’t expect he would be so cruel to our Bella... I can’t breathe... I feel like I’ve failed as a mother. Why didn’t I take my Bella with me when I left? Woooooo!"
Jessica’s voice grated on Isabella’s ears, each word dripping with false emotion. Her words were meant to be sympathetic, but Isabella could hear the manipulation behind them. She lay still, not yet ready to let them know she was awake.
Beside Jessica stood a man, his arms wrapped around her in a comforting embrace. He was tall and broad, with long hair tied back in a bun and a sharp, mature face. He wore a gold chain around his neck, and tattoos snaked up his arms and onto the back of his neck, visible even under his perfectly tailored suit. This man—Sam, Jessica’s husband—was strikingly handsome for his age, with an aura of control and danger surrounding him.
"Don’t cry, Jessi! I understand your pain... Shh... don’t cry," Sam soothed, his voice deep and calm. His hands gently rubbed Jessica’s back as if he genuinely cared about her, although to Isabella, it all felt like a performance.
Sam was not just any businessman—he was the mafia boss of City A. Though not the most powerful in the underworld, he was far from weak. He had been running his underground empire for over two decades, balancing his legitimate business with his darker business. For years, he had lived the life of a playboy, indulging in the company of countless women until he finally decided to settle down with Jessica. She had appeared to him as both strong and fragile—a woman in need of saving, someone who had been abused by her ex-husband. Sam had stepped in, married her, and together they built a life.
They had a daughter named Stella, who was pampered and spoiled by their love. She was their pride and joy—until recently, when a significant problem arose in their business. Sam and Jessica had suffered a massive loss, plunging them into debt. Desperate to save their empire, Sam had turned to Mr. Moretti, a powerful man looking for a wife of high standing.
However, there was a catch: in the world of mafia bosses, daughters were rare. Most families valued sons who could inherit and run the business, making eligible women like Stella all the more valuable. Mr. Moretti had agreed to lend them a considerable sum, but their perfect plan fell apart when their beloved Stella ran away with her college boyfriend, leaving Sam and Jessica in a desperate situation.
And that was when Isabella had entered the picture—whether she liked it or not. She was the backup plan, the one they would now force into marriage with Mr. Moretti to save their empire.
"Hubby... I still can’t believe he died and sold my baby to his nasty cousin brother—woooo," Jessica cried out dramatically, her sobs echoing through the room.