Sweet Little Lies

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-One

Isabella Bianchi stared down at Greta with absolute hatred.

Greta tried not to shrink under that look, but old habits die hard. This scrutiny was not new to her, but never had she recognized so much enmity on her mother. There were many times where Isabella had mocked and shouted at her, many times when Greta had caught the back of her mother's hand or felt the sting of a slap across her face. But there had also been moment's that Greta had tricked herself into thinking Isabella didn't hate her.

Now she knew better.

"This is all a bit much, isn't it?" Greta asked.

Her mother raised one thin eyebrow at her.

Okay, maybe she had been spending too much time with Dev.

She swallowed and added, "You've been good at staying underground."

"Of course, I am." She said simply, disdain dripping off her tongue. "There's a reason I have led this family for so long. Not even your new friends could find me."

"You mean until you visited your boyfriend today, Ms. Vivian Taylor." Greta moved her arm, testing out the restraint.

Isabella's eyes narrowed. "You were always too smart for your own good. Never knew when to mind your own business."

The rope was strong, but not unbreakable. The question was did she have enough time to loosen it enough to get free.

"What's your goal here?" She asked, glancing at Angelo sitting opposite her and behind their mother.

"My goal?" Isabella walked over to the wall and leaned against it, her heels clicking against the concrete. A gun sat at her hip, shown as she casually placed her hand in her pocket, the long black jacket being swept gracefully aside. In all honesty, her mother looked like the movie stars she named herself after. She was more put together than Greta had seen her in a long time, more mentally stable it seemed since Harry and Ivy had announced their engagement.

"Yes, your goal." Greta tried not to roll her eyes. She needed to keep her mother talking. "What's the plan here? The Bianchi Estate is practically decayed, the rest of the heads of family have either stepped down or been imprisoned-"

"Or dead."

Greta blinked. "Or dead."

"Is that what you want of me?" She asked venomously, checking her watch.

Greta looked quickly at Angelo and moved her arm, hoping he would get the message.

"Dead?" Isabella continued. "Like Cillian Malone?" With a scoff, she said, "Pathetic being taken down like that. By his own son while his daughter fucked that Styles brat. Is that what you wanted, Greta."

"Not particularly." She said. "A regular upbringing would've been nice."

Greta's head flung to the side as her cheek burned. The slap her mother landed on her had echoed off the walls and had made Angelo go still. She gave him a look to keep going, then turned back to Isabella.

"Shut your mouth, girl." She hissed at Greta, all her attention singled in on her. "You've always been ungrateful, but now you're also disrespectful. Look at you," she spat, "you've been given everything on a silver platter. Unlike me who had to fight and claw my way up to the top. Was I just supposed to step down after all that and give my empire, my hard work, my sacrifices to you?"

"I didn't ask for-"

"And that makes it so much worse!" Isabella Bianchi's fury was showing finally. There was no more restrained rage, no more cool demeanor. The real, true core of this woman was showing at last. The person that Greta had always seen behind those dark eyes.