Chapter Three: Shattered Hearts

The dimly lit room pulsed with the beat of electronic music as glass chandeliers above flickered in rhythm with the bass. The party was in full swing, a celebration of business and power, where the world’s elite mingled in tailored suits and shimmering gowns. Antonio de Luca stood at the center of it all, his dark eyes scanning the crowd with a quiet intensity. He had seen it all. The fleeting smiles, the fake handshakes, the empty pleasantries. None of it mattered to him. In his world, only one thing did—power. The kind that made people bow and obey. And it was here, in the midst of these opulent surroundings, that he truly felt at home.

He wasn't one for parties, not really. But tonight was different. Tonight, there was business to be done, and he had no interest in wasting time. His mind was focused, every movement deliberate. He moved through the crowd like a predator, unbothered by the noise, his eyes constantly flicking over the faces, the conversations, always calculating, always aware. No one dared to look at him for too long, not unless they wanted to feel the weight of his presence. Antonio was a man who commanded attention, whether he wanted it or not.

It was then, amidst the familiar sea of influential men and women, that he saw her again.

Isabella Carlos.

She was standing near the balcony, her figure outlined by the soft glow of the moonlight spilling in from outside. Her eyes were cast downward, lost in thought, her elegant dress cascading down her slender frame like a silken waterfall. She was still the same as he remembered, that rare beauty, untouched by time, with an air of vulnerability that seemed to haunt her every movement. And yet, there was something different about her now. Something that told Antonio she had grown, matured in ways he couldn’t quite place. She was no longer the naïve girl he had met all those years ago—no, she had become something else.

Something dangerous.

The old feeling, the one he had long buried, stirred in his chest. It was an emotion he had long ago shut off—curiosity. But now, with her standing before him once again, it felt like a crack in the wall he had so carefully built around himself.

Isabella hadn’t noticed him yet, her back to the crowd, her fingers wrapped around the delicate stem of a glass of wine. He watched her for a moment longer, wondering just how much had changed in the years since they last met. She had always been a puzzle, a woman who believed in something he had long discarded. Love. She was the epitome of that naïve, foolish dream. The idea that someone, one day, would come and sweep her off her feet, that love could be pure and untainted by the darkness of the world they lived in.

Antonio had once believed in that. He had once opened his heart to a woman, poured everything he had into her, only to watch her shatter it into a thousand pieces. Valentina. His ex-wife. She had been the one he had given his heart to, the one he had promised to love for life. But she had betrayed him in the worst possible way—by sleeping with men he had once called friends, men who were supposed to have been loyal to him.

The wound was still fresh. Years later, the taste of that betrayal lingered in his mouth. He had never forgiven her, and he would never forget the way his world had crumbled under the weight of her lies.

Isabella’s soft laughter broke through his thoughts, and he snapped back to reality. She was still standing by the balcony, talking to a man Antonio didn’t recognize. The man was leaning in too close, his hand hovering just above Isabella’s waist, a move that made Antonio’s jaw tighten involuntarily.

He didn’t care about the woman anymore, not the way he once had. Love was a weakness, a dangerous illusion that had no place in his life. He had learned that lesson the hard way. And yet, the sight of her, the way she laughed, the way she seemed untouched by the chaos of the world—they stirred something in him. Something he couldn’t quite shake.

With a movement that was almost too smooth, Antonio made his way toward her, cutting through the crowd with ease. He didn’t need to announce his presence. People parted for him as he passed, all too aware of who he was and the reputation that preceded him. Isabella, however, remained oblivious, her attention still fixed on the man who was trying far too hard to impress her.

Antonio’s eyes narrowed as he stopped just behind her, his shadow falling over her like a storm cloud.

"Are you always so easily charmed by strangers, or is tonight different?" His voice was a smooth rumble, low and deliberate, but there was a hardness to it that immediately stilled the conversation between Isabella and her companion.

The man straightened, a flicker of unease passing over his face as he looked at Antonio. He quickly excused himself and walked away, leaving Isabella standing alone.

Her eyes, wide with recognition, slowly turned toward him. There was no shock, no surprise, just a steady gaze that betrayed nothing. The same calmness that had drawn him in years ago. Her beauty, still untainted, hit him like a punch to the chest. She had a way of looking at him, with those soft, searching eyes, as if she were trying to see through the walls he had built around himself.

"Antonio," she said, her voice soft but steady, as if she were speaking to a ghost. "It’s been a long time."

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he studied her, his gaze sweeping over her features, trying to find any trace of the naive girl he had met years ago. But she was different. He could see it now, in the way she held herself, the way she looked at him. She was no longer the young woman who believed in fairy tales and love stories. She had grown into someone else—someone stronger, perhaps. But still, there was that same vulnerability, that same belief in love that made her all the more dangerous in his eyes.

"Five years," he said finally, his voice flat. "Has it really been that long?"

Isabella nodded, taking a sip from her wine glass before setting it down on the nearby table. "Time has a way of slipping away, doesn’t it? I never thought I would see you again."

Antonio chuckled darkly, his eyes flicking away from her for a moment. "The world is small. And no matter how far you run, people always find their way back to each other."

Isabella didn’t reply right away. She stood there, her arms folded across her chest, as if measuring him, weighing her words carefully. "You’re different," she said, her voice quieter now, but still carrying the weight of truth. "You’ve changed."

He almost laughed at the irony of her words. Of course he had changed. He had been broken and rebuilt, forged in the fires of betrayal and loss. The man standing before her now was not the same man she had met five years ago. That man had believed in love. This man? This man knew better.

"You’re not the same either," he remarked, his voice low, the words heavy with meaning. "You were so... innocent back then. So full of dreams. You’ve learned that life isn’t as simple as you thought."

Her gaze faltered, but only for a second. "Maybe. But I still believe in love, Antonio. I always will."

He almost scoffed at the words. He had heard them all before, from women who thought love was some sort of magic that could fix everything. He had given his heart to a woman who had crushed it into pieces. The pain had been unbearable, and he had sworn never to feel that way again.

But standing here, in front of Isabella, he realized that the walls he had so carefully built around his heart were beginning to crack. The pain was still there, buried deep within him, but for the first time in years, he was starting to wonder if he had closed himself off too much. Could it be that he, too, was capable of believing in love again?

No. He couldn’t allow himself to think like that.

"Love is a weakness, Isabella," he said, his voice hard. "And if you’re still looking for it, then you’ll only end up hurt."

Isabella’s eyes softened, but there was no pity in them. Just a quiet understanding. "Maybe," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But if it’s a weakness, then I’d rather be weak than empty."

Antonio felt a strange pang in his chest, something he hadn’t felt in years. It was a brief flicker of something that could have been hope—or perhaps just foolishness. He didn’t know. And he didn’t want to.

But as he turned away, leaving her standing alone by the balcony, he couldn’t help but wonder—was there still a chance for him? Or had his heart, like his empire, become too broken to be mended?