The rain started quietly—just a whisper against the windows—but Isabella felt it in her bones. A warning. Fernando hadn't let her go since he arrived, arms locked around her like armor.
"Tell me what happened," he said, voice tight.
She hesitated. "Someone was here... or watching. I felt it."
His eyes darkened. "You're not crazy. I saw the motion sensor alert just before you called."
That confirmed it.
Fernando turned, already issuing orders through his phone. Guards swept the perimeter, and extra security was deployed. But something still felt wrong.
"I want you out of this apartment," he said finally. "Tonight."
"And go where?" she asked, defiant.
"My estate. It's the only place I can control."
"I'm not something to be controlled."
His jaw clenched. "No. But you are someone I won't lose
The car ride back to the estate was silent. Isabella kept her eyes fixed on the darkened windows, watching the blur of city lights. Fernando sat beside her, still and unreadable, but his fingers tapped against his thigh—impatient, or trying to control something far deeper.
When they arrived, she stepped out before the driver could open the door. She didn't wait for Fernando or the guards. She walked ahead, her heels clicking against the marble like defiance with each step. But her heart? It was a storm.
Inside, the house was too quiet. She felt the weight of eyes—cameras, guards, the ever-present shadow of Fernando's world. A world that didn't feel like hers.
"Isabella," his voice came low behind her. She stopped halfway up the stairs.
"I'm tired," she said without turning.
"I didn't ask how you felt," he replied, colder than the wind outside.
She turned then, sharp. "You don't get to control everything, Fernando."
He approached slowly. "You think this is control?" he murmured. "You haven't seen control yet."
She hadn't returned since the night they argued. It felt colder now—emptier, like even the walls were holding secrets.
The threat was real—but so was the fire in her chest. She didn't flinch. "Then show me."
A pause. He reached her, brushed a loose curl from her face, and leaned in.
"No," she said, voice firm, pulling back. "You want to break me, but I've lived through worse than you."
Something flickered in his eyes—regret? Amusement? Or... respect?
"You're playing a dangerous game," he said softly.
"So are you."
And with that, she turned and walked away.
Fernando paced as he made calls, piecing together who might be behind the break-in. But she couldn't stop thinking about the shadow. The stillness before the storm.
She wasn't just a pawn anymore.
She was part of the game.
And someone wanted her off the board.
*Fernando's daily routine had changed.*
He still woke early, trained, met with his inner circle—but now he spent more time watching her. Protecting her in silence. He was haunted by her defiance, the way she hadn't begged, hadn't folded. She stirred something dangerous in him. Something that made him want to ruin her... or save her.
His empire required precision. Brutality. Obedience. Isabella was none of those things. She was chaos in a red dress. And he couldn't stop watching.
***
*Isabella's days grew colder.*
The mansion was beautiful but lifeless. The library became her refuge. She read about power, strategy, old wars. She wanted to understand how men like Fernando ruled—so she could survive them.
But at night... she dreamed of him.
And sometimes, she woke up wishing he were beside her.
She hated that.
The war between them had only just begun.
But the real danger?
They were both starting to need each other