Page 110 of His Son's Ex

It’s been five minutes since the world exploded.

I know I’m safe now, but I’m still terrified. Terrified of what I just witnessed, of the look on Dante’s face when he fired his weapon.

Terrified of how badly I still want him, even now.

The air suddenly shifts, like a storm rolling in.

Boot heels click across the floor.

Isabella Bellacino walks in flanked by two of her personal guards, dressed in black. Her silver hair is twisted into a regal knot, her posture rigid and proud. She looks completely out of place as she steps into the aftermath of what just occurred. Hereyes—sharp and calculating—sweep the room once, landing on Linda.

“Oh,” Isabella says coolly. “Still alive, I see.”

Linda stiffens between the guards. Her voice cracks as she says, “Isabella.” There’s an actual desperate, spark of hope in her eye, that maybe the old matriarch is here to extend a hand.

“Please,” Linda says, her tone quickly flipping from venom to sugar. “You can’t let them do this. You and I… we were allies once. Friends. I did what I thought was right. You understand that, don’t you?”

Isabella stares at her for a beat, tilting her head slightly, like she’s analyzing what she just heard. “Friends,” she repeats, almost testing the word. “Linda, darling. You were never my friend. I tolerated you for the sake of my grandson. Barely.”

Linda’s lips begin to tremble. “I was trying to secure Luca’s future. I was protecting the family!”

Isabella’s smile widens in amusement. “Is that what you call it? Putting a gun to my grandchild’s mother is protecting the family?”

“Dante went rogue,” Linda yells, her voice desperate. “He was never loyal to the family. You know he destroyed everything we built!”

Isabella calmly steps forward, her guards staying perfectly still, though their eyes remain on Linda. She casually reaches up and smooths a nonexistent wrinkle from her coat. “Let me make something perfectly clear.Younever built a damn thing. This ismyfamily. You tried to murder my grandchild. You attemptedto destroy the Bellacino name with your pathetic little schemes. And now you want mercy?”

Linda’s face crumples. “Please. Please, Isabella. I was misled. It was Luca, he convinced me?—”

“Oh, I see,” Isabella cuts her off with a soft laugh. “Now you’re blaming your son? That’s rich.”

She lifts a hand. The guards tense, waiting for her signal.

“Wait,” Linda gasps. “Please. I’ll disappear. You won’t hear from me again. I’ll leave the country?—”

Isabella looks thoughtful, almost entertained. “Oh, you most definitely will.”

Linda freezes, her voice dropping to a whisper. “No… no, please…”

Isabella turns to Abramovic. “The arrangements?”

He nods. “Cargo ship. One-way. No name, no ID. Destination is cold and far away.”

Linda’s scream cuts through the air. “No! You can’t do this! You sanctimonious witch! You think this makes you better than me?”

Isabella lifts a brow, but she doesn’t flinch. “No, Linda. IknowI’m better than you.” She turns her back, signaling the guards. “Take her.”

Linda thrashes as Abramovic’s men drag her out, her screams reverberating throughout the ruined house like the final howls of a dying animal. “Dante! Eva! This isn’t over! You’ll regret this!”

No one answers.

Once she’s gone, the silence that remains feels like a beacon of peace. Finally.

Isabella turns to me, brushing dust from her cuff like she just finished lunch at a garden café. “Sorry for the dramatics, dear,” she says with a smirk. “But some people need to exit the stage properly.”

I stare at her, still catching my breath, still unsure whether or not I’m dreaming. “You had her shipped off?”

She shrugs. “She’s lucky I didn’t let Abramovic feed her to the Atlantic. Exile seemed more fitting. A slow death. Cold and forgotten. What she did to you, to this family…” Her expression softens slightly. “It’s unforgivable.”