Two nights later, Isabella stood in front of Sofia's mirror, just staring. The figure in the glass nearly resembled a person she didn't recognize, it was merely a female figure wearing a navy blue gown, uncomplicated yet graceful, nothing flashy. She had deliberately selected the dress, something meant to blend in; professional and muted not to catch the eye.

Tonight wasn't about putting on a show, it was about getting the job done and then exiting silently. All the same, nervousness churned in her belly and had not released its grip since sunrise.

"Girl, you look like you're on your way to your own funeral." Sofia stood in the doorway as she observed her with her arms folded.

"Is it that obvious?" Isabella asked, making an effort to smile.

"You appear pale."

"I'm fine."

Sofia refused to buy it. "Bella."

"I said I'm fine," Isabella repeated, a bit softer. But honestly, she didn't know what emotions she had. Could it be fear? Maybe. Or perhaps something older, that lingering ache she believed she had long since buried.

The most recent time she came into Lorenzo De Luca's world, she stood as his bride. Naïve. Full of hope but still utterly terrified. Now, that young woman was no longer there.

"Stick to the plan," Sofia said. "You work on the painting, collect your fee and lave."

"That's the only thing I'm doing."

"And if you see him?"

Isabella hesitated for a moment, then grabbed her coat. "I won't."

******

The magnificent Palazzo Verani was drenched in warm golden light set against a dark Milan sky. Luxury cars pulled up with men and women in elegant outfits trooping gracefully into the venue with giggles bouncing around and camera shutters clicking. The De Luca Foundation Gala brought together Italy's top personalities; public figures, tycoons and socialites, in fact if they were significant, they were in attendance.

Isabella kept a low profile as she moved stealthily by the main entrance alongside the event workers. There were no cameras or no flashy items shooting in her direction which was just perfect.

Inside, the palace looked like something out of a dream. Crystal chandeliers were glistening beneath painted ceilings, polished marble floors radiated and columns rose high. Their murmurs buzzed across the ballroom, yet Isabella hardly noticed any of it, all her thoughts were just fixed on the modest exhibition space beside the main hall; the place where her real work was waiting.

The curator saw her immediately she walked in.

"Hii, you must be Elena Rossi. We're so grateful you took the offer" she clipped, stopping in front of Isabella.

Isabella nodded. "It's an honor."

On a display easel, the painting waited under a spotlight. She moved closer as she could see just how fragile and beautiful it was, the gentle brushstrokes and colors that were centuries old, even beneath the protective cover.

For a second, the tightness in her chest eased up. This was her world. Artwork never misled, has never caused you pain and never tried to kill you in your sleep.

"Take your time," the curator said, stepping out of the room.

Isabella was alone. She bunched up her sleeves and laid out her tools; Cleaning brush, rag, cleaning solvent. The work commenced minutes slipping by almost an hour.

Music and laughter drifted in from the main ballroom making Isabella actually feel herself almost relaxed.

Then something shifted slightly, she heard footsteps inching closer behind her and the quiet murmur coming from the staff nearby. The air seemed to freeze.

Isabella's hand stopped mid-motion as the icy realization crept down her spine. She knew this feeling; that sensation of someone watching her. Slowly, she turned around.

A towering figure occupied the entrance, his broad shoulders clad in a black suit exuding dominance. His dark-coloured hair, slicked back crowned his handsome face with a strong jawline. He still had those razor-sharp blue eyes that made Matteo's face flicker across her mind.

Isabella could barely breathe as neither of them moved

Lorenzo De Luca.

He hadn't changed much, if anything, he looked older, sharper, quieter and even more dangerous and those eyes?? They definitely remembered everything. The staff faded out of the room, melting away from the moment because nobody wanted to witness this.

Lorenzo stepped closer, never taking his eyes off her. He stopped just a few feet away but just close enough for Isabella to feel the gravity between them.

He didn't speak right away. He just studied her, as if making sure she was real. Alive.

"Hello, Isabella." came his voice, low and gentle but terrifying.

Her heart slammed in her chest.

She made herself stand straight. "Good evening," she answered softly.

Something flashed in his expression, maybe amusement, disbelief or anger. He edged closer.

"You're supposed to be dead." he replied, the words hung in the air, sharp and cold.

Isabella swallowed. "So I've heard."

Lorenzo's gaze hardened. He had endured five years of questions and losses and now the woman who vanished was just standing here, acting like it was nothing.

"Did you really think I wouldn't recognize my own wife?" His voice went even lower.

Wife. That word stung.

Isabella steadied her voice. "I'm not your wife anymore."

Lorenzo tilted his head, eyes darkening. "Legally," he said, "you are."

Her pulse thudded louder.

She needed space. "I'm working," she said, turning back toward the painting. "If you'll excuse me"

But his hand closed around her wrist before she could move, he was not rough, but solid and just enough to stop her cold, as a spark of tension jolted through them both.

Isabella looked up slowly.

"You disappeared for five years." Lorenzo's voice was soft but utterly certain as his grip tightened just a little.

"And now you think you can walk away again?"

Isabella's heart hammered.

She never planned for this reunion, never expected the weight of his stare or the cold certainty in his voice.

"Let go," she whispered.

Lorenzo watched her for another moment, then released her wrist but his next words hit harder.

"Enjoy the rest of the evening," he said quietly. Then, after a pause, "Because when this gala ends..." He locked eyes with her.

"You're coming home with me." he turned,returning the same way he had come.

For the first time in five years, something became horribly clear to Isabella; escaping Lorenzo De Luca once had been a miracle.

But getting away again? That might be impossible.

Isabella didn't wait.

The moment Lorenzo walked out of the exhibition room, the air rushed back into her lungs, but it wasn't that of relief but panic.

Her hands trembled slightly as she gathered her tools, shoving them into her bag with far less care than usual because her every instinct kept screaming the same thing:

Leave. Now.

She knew she had made a mistake coming here, a very terrible one at that and if she didn't act fast, she would lose the one thing she had spent five years protecting; her son Matteo.

Isabella slipped out of the exhibition room, keeping her head down as she mixed into the crowd in the main ballroom. The music was louder now and the laughter brighter, but to her, everything felt distant, blurred by the pounding of her heart.

She moved quickly toward the nearest exit, the door leading to the side corridor because using the main doors would make it too obvious and too risky. She remembered it from earlier, she turned left as she walked straight ahead.

"Ma'am." a male voice rose behind her, stopping her dead in her tracks.

Isabella turned slowly as two men in black suits stood a few feet away. They had polite expressions and steady eyes that burned through her skin.

"Can we help you?" one of them asked.

"No," she said calmly. "I was just looking for the restroom."

"It's the other way." The man responded, smiling faintly.

" Of course it was.Thank you." Isabella said and forced a small nod.

She turned and walked back into the crowd, her breathing grew shallow. There has to be more than one exit and other ways out. She tried another corridor, it was blocked, the next door was surrounded by guards.

Every path she took led to the same result. There were extra men in suits, all watching and waiting. The realization hit her like ice down her spine, this wasn't a coincidence, it was control.

Lorenzo hadn't raised his voice or chased after her, because he didn't need to. He just sealed the entire building.

Isabella stopped walking and stood in the middle of the grand hallway, her chest rising and falling slowly as the truth settled in. She wasn't trying to leave, she was trying to escape a trap that had already been set.

"You're making this harder than it needs to be." A soft voice behind her confirmed it.

Isabella closed her eyes briefly and then turned.

Lorenzo stood at the far end of the hallway, his expression calm, his posture relaxed as if he had all the time in the world.

The guards around them stepped back subtly, creating space and giving him control of the moment.

"I told you," she said, Isabella lifted her chin slightly. "I'm working." her voice steady despite the storm inside her,

"And I told you, you're coming home" he replied, as he walked toward her in slowly, measured steps.

"I have a life, You don't get to just... she snapped.

"I get to do exactly what I want," he cut in quietly as he stopped in front of her.

His gaze dropped briefly taking in every detail of her face, as if confirming again that she was real.

Then he lifted his eyes back to hers.

" It's been five years," he said, with no anger in his tone and that made it worse.

"You disappear," he continued. " With no explanation or trace. And now you walk back into my world like nothing happened."

"I didn't walk back, I was invited."she said, her chest tightened.

A flicker of amusement passed through his eyes.

"Is that what you think this is?" he asked softly.

Her stomach dropped and before she could respond, Lorenzo turned his head slightly and gave a silent signal. The guards straightened immediately and then came the words that sealed her fate.

"Close the exits." he ordered making Isabella catch her breath.

"They're already closed, boss," one of the men replied.

"Good." Lorenzo replied, his gaze never leaving hers.

"This is insane, You can't just trap me here."Isabella said, taking a step back.

Lorenzo took steps forward, as she backed up until her back hit the cold marble wall till there was nowhere left to go.

"You ran away from me once,you would never get that chance again." His voice dropped, softer this time but far more dangerous.

"I'm not the same person you married," she whispered, her heart pounding so loudly she could barely think.

"I can see that." Lorenzo's lips curved slightly as he lifted his hands.

For a second, Isabella thought he was going to touch her but he didn't. Instead, he turned away. Then he spoke again to the men behind him.

"Bring my wife to me." The words echoed through the hallway.

Isabella's stomach dropped and before she could react, two guards stepped forward.

"Don't touch me!" She screamed as she tried to pull away.

But they already had her firmly. Her pulse raced as panic surged through her veins because that was exactly what she had feared, exactly what she had tried to avoid which was being pulled back into his world.

"No," she said, struggling now. "Lorenzo, listen to me..."

He didn't turn around or slow down, just simply walked away as if it was already done and she already belonged to him.

Isabella's resistance weakened for just a second as reality crashed over her. She wasn't leaving tonight or going back to her quiet life. She remembered Matteo and her chest tightened painfully, the one thing she had been trying to protect, the one secret she couldn't afford to expose was now closer to danger than ever before.

As the doors of the private elevator closed behind her, Isabella's eyes stung with tears, five years ago, she had escaped by a miracle. But this time, she had just walked straight back into the lion's den.

And Lorenzo De Luca had no intention of letting her out.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime and for a second, Isabella simply stood there, her breath shallow, her mind trying to process all that had happened. The guards waited silently and unyielding behind her, their presence pressing against her back like a warning.

She stepped out slowly. The hallway beyond was nothing like the noise and glamour of the gala downstairs. It was quiet, dimly lit and private. The kind of place where decisions were made and secrets buried.

At the far end, a set of double doors stood open and inside...

Lorenzo De Luca was waiting.

He stood by the window with his back to her, one hand tucked into his pocket while the other rested lightly against the glass. From this height, the entire city of Milan stretched beneath him, glittering and alive.

The guards released her and stepped back, the doors closing after them with a soft click. The sound echoed louder than it should have, sealing her in.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Isabella wrapped her arms around herself, steadying her breathing. She refused to let him see fear. Not now. Not again.

"You've improved your timing," she said finally, her voice quiet but controlled. "You didn't even wait until the party ended."

"I don't like delays." Lorenzo replied without turning.

Of course he didn't. Everything about him was immediate, controlled and decided. Isabella took a step further into the room, her eyes scanning it instinctively. It was a very large space with minimal furniture. It had just one exit and no visible cameras, but that meant nothing because with Lorenzo, nothing was ever truly unseen.

"Fine. You've made your point," she continued. "You found me."

Still, he didn't move.

"I didn't find you," he said calmly making her pause.

He turned slowly, his blue eyes locked onto hers again, sharp and unreadable.

"You walked into my world," he finished.

"It was a mistake." Isabella lifted her chin slightly. The weight of that statement settled heavily between them

"Mistakes,are things people regret" he said quietly, his gaze darkening.

Then he crossed the room towards her in slow, deliberate steps, each of them closing the distance she wished she could keep.

"Do you regret it?" He said as he stopped too close, in front of her.

"Yes." Her heart still pounding, but her expression didn't change.

"Good," he said, as heavy and suffocating silence stretched between them again

"Let's stop pretending," she said exhaling slowly. "You didn't bring me here to talk about regrets."

"No," Lorenzo agreed.

"Then say what you want." she retorted.

"I want the truth, every single one of it" His gaze sharpened.

"About what?" Her chest tightened.

"About five years ago." he clipped.

There it was, the past she had buried and the truth she had never spoken.

Isabella looked away briefly, walking toward the side table as if she needed space but she really needed was time.

" Well, as far as I'm concerned, there's nothing to tell," she said.

"Don't lie to me." Lorenzo's voice cut through the room instantly.

The sharpness in his tone froze her in place as she slowly turned back to him.

"I'm not lying."

"You disappeared," he said. "You left everything behind. And now you expect me to believe there's 'nothing to tell'?"

"Yes."

The tension snapped tighter.

Lorenzo let out a quiet breath, his patience thinning.

"You had money," he continued. "A new identity. A life built somewhere else."

"That doesn't just happen by accident." His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Who helped you?" he demanded.

Still, she didn't respond, her silence was enough answer but it only made things worse as Lorenzo began stepping closer again.

"Was it him?" The question caught her off guard.

"What?" Her brows pulled together slightly.

"The man you ran to," he said. Gor a second, Isabella didn't understand, then the realization hit and something inside her snapped.

"There was no man," she said, her voice sharper now.

"Everyone runs to something," he replied. "Or someone." Lorenzo's expression didn't change.

"I ran to survive." The words slipped out before she could stop them.

The room fell silent as Lorenzo's gaze locked onto hers and there was something different in his eyes now.

"Survive what?" he asked quietly. Isabella's heart skipped, she knew she had said too much.

"I'm done with this conversation," she said quickly, turning away.

But Lorenzo moved faster, his hands closing around her arm, pulling her back. Not violently just firmly enough to stop her.

"Answer me." Her pulse spiked.

"I said I'm done..." she began

"Answer me, Isabella." he growled.

He just called her by her real name, not Elena, not the identity she had built. But her real name spoken with authority and ownership.

The past crashed into the present all at once.

"I was attacked," she said suddenly.

The words hung in the air raw and controlled

"What!?" Lorenzo stilled.

"I didn't run because I wanted to," she continued, her voice shaking slightly now despite her effort to stay composed. "I ran because someone tried to kill me." Isabella's breathing grew uneven.

Lorenzo's grip on her arm loosened slightly. But his eyes... his blue eyes darkened.

"Who?" he asked.

"I don't know, until now I don't have the faintest idea who it was at the time." Isabella shook her head.

"Then why didn't you come to me?" The question hit harder than she expected.

"Because I didn't know who I could trust." the words lingered between them as she laughed soft and bitterly.

"You should have trusted me." Lorenzon said calmly as his expression hardened.

"Should I have?" Isabella met his gaze.

For the first time, Lorenzo didn't answer immediately. And in that silence, everything shifted. But Isabella wasn't finished, her chest rose and fell as she made the mistake of saying one more thing.

"There are things you don't know," she said quietly.

"What things?" Lorenzo's attention sharpened instantly.

Isabella froze, she shouldn't have said that but it was already too late. Lorenzo stepped closer, his voice dropping to something far more dangerous.

"What did you see?" he asked

Her heart slammed against her ribs because that was the real question, the one she had been running from.

"Nothing." Isabella shook her head quickly.

"Don't you dare lie to me." He warned

"I'm not..." she began

"Isabella." he called her name again in a low, final warning

She held his gaze, refusing to speak. The silence stretched. Then came a sharp, urgent knock on the door. Lorenzo's eyes flicked toward it, irritation flashing briefly.

"Not now," he said coldly.

"Boss," a voice came from the other side. "It's important."

Then Lorenzo stepped back after a pause.

"Come in."

The door opened quickly, one of his men stepped inside, tension clear in his posture.

"Speak," Lorenzo ordered.

The man hesitated for a while then he said the words that made Isabella's blood run cold.

"We found the child." Isabella's heart dropped into her stomach.

Lorenzo turned slowly, very slowly as his gaze locked onto her.

"What child?" he snapped narrowing his eyes.

Isabella couldn't breathe because at that moment, her secret was no longer safe and everything she had fought to protect was about to be exposed.