Page 58 of Broken Mafia Bride

I push the feeling away and settle into my own seat.

I don’t have much of an appetite, but Caterina looks excited to see me at the table, so I promise myself to force myself to eat as much as I can.

“I’m glad you’re up and about,” Lucio tells me. “Isabella will be glad to see you when she gets here.”

“Isabella is in Sardegna?” My head shoots up, and I stare at him in surprise. I glance over at Cat. “You didn’t mention.”

“I had no idea.”

“She called a few minutes ago,” Lucio informs me. “Apparently, it was a split-second decision.”

I haven’t seen Isabella in years. I’ve kept up with her in secret, scrolling through her Instagram posts like a ghost haunting someone else’s life—watching her laugh, travel, smile. She looks happy, untouched by the wreckage I’ve been living in. And even though I know she’ll be furious with me for disappearing, I have to believe that once I explain everything… she’ll understand. She has to.

My chest warms at the thought of seeing her again.

“She doesn’t know you’re here,” he continues. “It’ll be a bit of a surprise for her to see you alive, well, and here.”

I narrow my eyes at him, hurt by the accusation in his voice. “I had my reasons for staying away.”

“I know,” he says, reaching out to briefly cover my hand. “But I think it’s time you finally let it all out.”

He pulls his hand back and returns to his meal. “Oh, and by the way—there’s something else you should know. She’s engaged. And she’s bringing him with her.”

“Engaged!” I gasp. “To who?”

There wasn’t a single hint on her account. No photos, no captions, nothing that suggested she was seeing someone.

I hope to god Papa didn’t force her into marrying one of his allies’ sons for the sake of money or arms. My fingers curl into fists in my lap. I wouldn’t put it past him—so cold-blooded he could’ve done it without a second thought.

“He’s actually Pepe’s cousin,” Lucio says happily. “The family connection is strong in Casa Bianca.”

“My cousin?” Pepe sounds surprised.

Sometimes I forget he isn’t blood. My grandfather treats him like a son, and since I arrived in Sardegna, he’s treated me like a sister.

“That’s exciting,” Caterina says brightly. “I hope they have the wedding here.”

“Which cousin is this?” Pepe asks, leaning forward curiously.

Lucio opens his mouth to answer?—

But the doors of the dining room swing open.

And just like that, the air shifts.

I rise to my feet, breath catching. “Isabella, long?—”

The rest dies on my tongue the second I see him.

A tall figure steps in behind her, and time collapses.

Our eyes meet—and just like that, I’m a child again again. Standing barefoot in the sun, yelling at a scarred boy who thought I was stealing his dog.

Then I’m twenty-three, dangling off a cliff, his face the last thing I see before the world goes black.

The man staring at me now is neither of those people. His eyes are like chips of ice, and he’s lost weight—every inch of him sharp,toosharp. It feels like if I get too close, I’ll be sliced to ribbons.

“Ra—”