"Don't you dare die under my watch, Isabella."
***
Isabella Moretti is known to be the best among the rest. A deadly rose amongst a field of daisies. A strong ripple in calm waters.
A killer seeking revenge, finds two allies more than willing to l...
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Dominic Bianchi
—
Another Perspective
♤♤♤
"Don." My men greeted when I entered the room, their heads bowed as they stood from their seats.
I took a seat at the head of the table, the people around me following after and lowered themselves to their own seats.
"Olivia." I called. She turned towards my direction and gave me a nod, before heading to the front and standing beside the screen.
"We are holding this meeting to talk about our plans regarding the grand masquerade we are to be holding in two months time." Olivia started. I notice some of my men had confused looks.
"Excuse me if I'm wrong, but haven't we finalized everything about the ball already?" One asked.
"Si, everything is prepared, isn't it? The venue, decoration, the catering?" Another added.
Olivia was about to answer until I spoke up. "Oh no, we are not going to be talking about the preparations."
I paused, taking a look at their faces that continued to hold looks of confusion and curiosity.
"We're talking about the attack." I smirk.
This plan is our only way to achieve our goals. Not only would it greatly help the mafia, it would also feed my own personal intentions: revenge against the Venetians.
Revenge against Isabella Moretti.
♤♤♤ 1
2 years ago...
I sat upright on my bed, hugging my knees and leaning my forehead in between as I waited for her. The only person I ever grew to care for in this wretched place.
She was the only one who understood. The only person in this place who could never hurt me. The only one who cared for me.
Her name is Fiona Rodriguez, and she is the only person I trust. My parents never valued me, yet she did. My parents never respected me, yet she did. My parents never loved me, yet she did.
She loved me with all her heart.
The door creaked, as someone opened it from the other side. My eyes lit up, expecting Fiona. But the person pulled the door open made me feel fear instead of joy.
"P-Papa." I stuttered, fear evident in my voice as a shaky hand unconsciously went to my side; clutching the newly broken rib.
"Dominic," He called, eyes furrowing in confusion before his expression slowly morphed into anger. The man I call a father clenched his fists, stomping his way towards me and pulling me by the collar of my shirt.
