Chapter Twelve: A Dark Decision

Antonio’s hands gripped the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white. His eyes flickered across the room, his gaze landing on the pictures of Luca scattered across the walls of his home—the only soft spot in his otherwise cold existence. The life he had built, the life that was supposed to be just him and his son, was slowly being invaded, eroded by the presence of someone who didn’t belong. And it pissed him off.

Every question Luca asked about Isabella felt like a dagger to his chest. Each innocent inquiry, each mention of her name, sent waves of anger coursing through Antonio’s veins. Why was she becoming so involved? Why was Luca so fascinated by her? Why was she being incorporated into their lives like she belonged here? This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. This was his world. His and Luca’s. He had made sure of that, shielded them both from the world outside, a world that could only betray them, break them. That was all women ever did.

Isabella’s place in his son’s heart wasn’t just a threat to his carefully constructed world—it was a challenge to everything he had ever believed. Love was a fool’s game. It was a weakness. And yet, there was something about the way Luca had clung to her, about the way her name had become a fixture in his thoughts, that gnawed at him.

This couldn’t continue.

Antonio stood up from his chair with sudden, violent force, his fists clenched at his sides. His mind raced with thoughts he didn’t want to entertain. The whiskey had done little to numb the simmering anger inside of him. He wasn’t the type to let things slide, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to sit back while some woman—someone he had no use for—waltzed into his life, threatening the fragile peace he had fought for.

No. Not again. Not with him.

Luca was his son. His. And no one—not even a woman as captivating as Isabella—was going to change that. He could feel the rage welling inside him, like a dark cloud ready to burst. He had never been one to shy away from making difficult decisions, no matter how ruthless they were. He had always done what was necessary to ensure control. To ensure power.

And if Isabella Carlos was going to be a part of this life, then she would do so on his terms.

A dark smirk spread across Antonio’s face as the thought crossed his mind. She wants love? She wants a fairytale? Fine. I’ll give her a fairytale. A twisted one.

He would trap her.

Force her.

The idea, at first, seemed absurd. But the more he thought about it, the more the plan took shape. He could make her marry him, bind her to him, force her into a life she wouldn’t be able to escape from. There was no escaping Antonio de Luca once he decided something.

And Isabella—sweet, naive, innocent Isabella—would be no different.

She wanted love? He would show her what love really meant. He would show her that love was not something soft and sweet. It was not a fairytale. It was a chain, a prison, a reality that crushed and consumed you. And that’s what he would give her.

A marriage without love. A life built on obligation, on power, on control. A life where she would be forced to live with him, to belong to him, whether she liked it or not.

The thought of her, the image of her soft smile, the way she had looked at him so innocently, now became the fuel for his twisted plan. He could see her now, dressed in white, standing at the altar, looking up at him with those wide eyes of hers, the hope in them, the belief in something that didn’t exist. It made his stomach turn.

She wants love? I’ll give her a cage.

His fingers brushed against the phone on his desk, the impulse to call his men already creeping in. He needed to make sure everything was in place. He needed to make sure that once he had her in his grasp, there was no turning back.

“Dio, I’m losing my mind,” he muttered, rubbing his temples as the full weight of his decision settled on him. (God, I’m losing my mind.) But there was no going back. This was the only way.

The thought of taking control of her life—of making her submit to him—was intoxicating. He had done it before with countless others. He had bent people to his will with the sheer force of his power. Isabella would be no different. She would fall in line, just like everyone else who dared to challenge him.

But this wasn’t just about power. This was about Luca. His son was asking about her, talking about her constantly, showing him pictures, asking when they could see her again. Antonio could feel the little boy’s innocence pressing against his defenses, wearing him down. And he hated it. Hated the way Luca’s attachment to her felt like a betrayal.

Luca was his world. He had built everything around that boy, around their little family, and he would protect it at all costs. If Isabella had to be a part of it, then she would have to accept the consequences.

Antonio’s fists clenched as he stared out the window, the skyline of the city stretching before him like a sea of cold, indifferent buildings. He had made so many sacrifices, endured so many betrayals, but nothing had prepared him for this. The thought of Luca attaching himself to a woman like Isabella, a woman who was so innocent, so trusting—he couldn’t let that happen.

She’ll break him. She’ll break us all.

And so, he would make her his. He would take away her freedom, her dreams of love, and he would replace it with the harsh reality of what being with Antonio de Luca truly meant. There would be no room for fantasy. No room for hope.

The room felt stifling, the weight of his decision settling heavily on his shoulders. He had always been the one to call the shots. Always the one to dictate the terms. But this was different. This wasn’t just about business. This was about his son, his only weakness. And Isabella... Isabella was the one thing standing between him and that fragile peace he had worked so hard to protect.

But now, he had a solution. A final, brutal solution.

Antonio walked over to the phone, his fingers hovering over the buttons. He needed to act fast. He needed to take control of this situation before it spiraled any further.

“Get her. Bring her to me,” he said, his voice a low, commanding growl as he spoke to one of his trusted men. “And make sure she has no choice. No choice but to agree.”

He disconnected the call without another word, his mind already racing through the logistics.

There would be no hesitation. No second-guessing.

Antonio de Luca would have Isabella Carlos, one way or another.

And once he had her, there would be no turning back. She would be his. Forever.