Chapter 26: Shadows of the Past

As the afternoon sunlight slanted through the windows, Isabella moved around the house, meticulously tidying up, keeping herself busy. She knew well enough by now that leaving things undone was an invitation for Antonio’s anger. Although his temper had softened ever so slightly since Luca had started calling her “Mamma,” she was far from being truly accepted here. Antonio’s moods were still as unpredictable as a storm, and she didn’t want to give him any reason to turn that storm in her direction.

In the living room, Luca played quietly with his toys, humming to himself as he pieced together a puzzle on the carpet. His laughter bubbled up every now and then, filling the house with a warmth that was foreign to Isabella in her new life. She watched him from the doorway, a soft smile tugging at her lips. He seemed so carefree, so innocent, a stark contrast to the tension that simmered beneath the surface of this household.

As she folded a blanket on the couch, her mind wandered back to her old life. It seemed a lifetime ago, filled with the warmth and light she’d once taken for granted. She had been free, moving with ease through her days, dreaming of a life of love and peace. But here she was, bound by a contract to a man who treated her like a tool, a pawn. She could still hardly believe how quickly everything had changed.

Downstairs, in his study, Antonio’s raised voice echoed through the halls, a sharp reminder of the reality she now faced. The muffled Italian words were laced with anger, spilling out like venom. She couldn’t make out every word, but she caught enough to know that something had provoked him.

“Che cavolo stavate pensando? (What the hell were you thinking?)” Antonio’s voice snapped through the air like a whip, his tone as cold as ice. “Vi avevo dato un ordine chiaro, e l’avete ignorato. (I gave you a clear order, and you ignored it.)”

His men shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, looking anywhere but directly at him. One of them, a younger member of his team, tried to stammer out an explanation. “Signore… non sapevamo che… (Sir... we didn’t know that…)”

“Non lo sapevate?” Antonio interrupted, his voice dangerously low. “I gave you strict instructions on what to bring back. This… questo è inaccettabile. (This is unacceptable.)”

In the midst of his fury, his gaze fell on the items spread across his desk—luxury perfume, a delicate silk scarf, a silver locket. Items that looked innocent enough but held memories he had tried to bury deep within himself. They were all reminders of her—Valentina. His ex-wife. The woman who had shattered him, left him with scars that had barely begun to heal.

He clenched his fists, feeling the rage simmering in his veins. How dare his men bring these things here? How dare they dredge up memories that should have stayed in the past? His voice lowered, but the anger was still palpable. “Non voglio vedere mai più queste cose. (I never want to see these things again.) Am I clear?”

His men nodded quickly, collecting the items with trembling hands. They knew better than to cross Antonio when he was like this, and they filed out of the room as quickly as they could, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Antonio leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face, trying to shake off the memories. But they clung to him, unyielding. He could still see Valentina’s face, hear her laugh, remember the way she used to manipulate him with that same charm that had once captivated him. He’d given her everything, and she’d turned it into a weapon, using his love against him until he was left with nothing but anger and a son to raise alone.

A soft knock on the door broke his thoughts. He looked up, his gaze hardening as he saw Isabella standing hesitantly at the entrance, her expression cautious.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said softly, glancing down, “but… I thought you might want some coffee.” She held out a cup, her hands steady but her gaze wary, as if she was unsure whether he’d accept it or lash out at her.

He stared at her for a moment, then nodded, motioning her to set the cup on his desk. She moved forward, placing it gently before stepping back. There was a brief silence, thick with unspoken tension, as he watched her, taking in the way she seemed almost fragile in that moment, yet resilient.

As she turned to leave, he called after her. “Isabella.”

She stopped, looking back at him, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. He rarely called her by her name, as if doing so would give her too much importance in his world.

“Yes?” she asked, her voice soft, cautious.

He hesitated, the words stuck in his throat. For a moment, he considered asking her why she stayed, why she didn’t push back, why she put up with his anger and his distance. But instead, he simply said, “Make sure Luca doesn’t wander too far. I don’t want him getting into things he shouldn’t.”

Isabella nodded, understanding the underlying message. She didn’t say anything, just gave him a brief nod before leaving the room, her footsteps fading down the hallway.

Alone again, Antonio leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath as he stared into the dark liquid in his cup. He’d built walls around himself, fortresses to keep others out, to protect himself from being hurt again. But with Isabella’s presence in the house, those walls seemed less impenetrable, and that realization unnerved him more than he cared to admit.

Upstairs, Isabella returned to Luca’s side, watching as he happily stacked his toys. She reached out, gently running a hand through his hair, feeling a pang of protectiveness wash over her. She had come to care for this child, despite the circumstances that had brought her here. He was innocent in all of this, a small, bright light in the midst of a dark and complicated life.

As she watched him, she wondered if she would ever find her place here, if there would ever be a time when she didn’t have to walk on eggshells around Antonio. But for now, she would focus on Luca, on giving him the love and stability that he deserved. She couldn’t control her life, couldn’t change Antonio’s coldness, but she could create a safe space for this child, and that was enough.

Downstairs, Antonio sipped his coffee, the bitterness grounding him as he tried to push away the memories of Valentina. But no matter how hard he tried, the shadows of his past clung to him, reminding him of the hurt he’d endured, of the trust he’d lost.

And as he looked around his office, at the remnants of a life he once thought he’d buried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite his best efforts, his past was far from over. It lingered in every corner, in every memory, casting a shadow over everything he touched—including Isabella. And he wondered, for the first time, if he was destined to keep reliving that pain, or if there was a chance, however small, that he could finally leave it behind.