Chapter 2
Isabella's POV
The community center's conference room was freezing. Outside, snowflakes fell again, tapping against the windows. I rubbed my ice-cold fingers, struggling to concentrate.
Tony's management team occupied the head of the conference table—three expressionless men in suits and a female secretary with bright red nails. The rest of us employees stood along the wall. I could feel my colleagues' occasional glances, curious yet afraid.
"According to our efficiency assessment," said the middle-aged man wearing gold-rimmed glasses, "Isabella Salvatore will be reassigned to the Archives Department, responsible for organizing historical documents. Salary will be adjusted to fifty percent of current level, effective immediately."
Fifty?! Whispers immediately spread throughout the room. I stood there, my cheeks burning, ears ringing.
"This is personal revenge," I said through gritted teeth, "and has nothing to do with my job performance."
The conference room instantly fell silent, everyone holding their breath.
Tony emerged from the corner of the room, a cold smile playing on his lips.
"This is a business decision, Miss Salvatore," he said, walking toward me. "Purely based on efficiency and profit."
He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. "Don't forget, you're not that untouchable princess anymore."
I felt my eyes begin to burn, a lump rising from my chest to my throat.
Damn it! Don't cry!
"Meeting adjourned," Tony suddenly announced. "Everyone return to your stations. Isabella, your new office is in the basement. Rodriguez will show you the way."
The archives room was dark and damp, the smell of mildew mixing with the scent of old paper. The fluorescent lights flickered constantly, emitting an annoying buzzing sound that gave me a headache. Dust-covered file boxes and rusted metal cabinets were stacked everywhere.
I mechanically flipped through yellowed documents, my fingers covered in dust, but my thoughts drifted back to seven years ago.
I was wearing a light blue dress, sneaking away from the Salvatore family summer party. Dad and his "business associates" were talking, the air thick with cigar smoke and whiskey. I was tired of fake smiles and dangerous eyes, just wanting to find a place to hide for a while.
The kitchen was the only quiet place. The party noise was shut out by the door, replaced by the clatter of pots and pans and the aroma of food.
"Careful, it's hot, Miss Salvatore," a voice suddenly said, startling me. "The kitchen isn't a place for someone like you."
I turned to see a handsome young man—dark brown, slightly curly hair, blue eyes, wearing a chef's assistant uniform with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
"And how would you know what places are right for me?" I challenged.
He smiled, teeth white, the corners of his mouth turning upward. "Maybe someday I could show you the real world, not just the golden cage your father built for you."
Tony Russo. Back then, he was just a college student working in the kitchen, dreaming of opening his own restaurant. And I was an overprotected mafia princess. We had no idea how fate would play with us...
BANG! A loud noise yanked me back to reality. I turned to see Tony's assistant Marco standing in the doorway, impeccably dressed in a suit, his sunglasses reflecting the light, earpiece wire barely visible from his shirt collar. His face was expressionless.
Through the half-open window, I heard the commotion from the parking lot—several men "handling" an intruder, the sounds of punches, kicks, and painful groans clearly audible.
"Genovese dogs," Marco said coldly. "Asking for death."
Typical mafia territory cleaning: first a warning, then broken bones, finally permanent solutions. The Russo family's territory expansion had begun.
I lowered my head and continued organizing files, but my mind was in chaos. My hands started shaking, anxiety spreading from my stomach to my chest, making it difficult to breathe. I instinctively reached for my pill bottle, only to find it empty. Damn, I'd taken the last one this morning.
I need to see Nathan.
Nathan's office was warm, in stark contrast to the blizzard outside. Flames danced in the fireplace, illuminating the professional books and small plants on his shelves. This had been my only place of relaxation for the past five years.
"You look exhausted, Isabella."
I looked up at Nathan, who was wearing a dark blue sweater today, his curly hair neatly arranged, green eyes full of concern behind his glasses.
"Tony Russo," I sighed, accepting the teacup he offered. "He demoted me, cut my salary in half. Now I'm organizing moldy files in the basement."
"This must be very difficult for you," he observed. "Reunions always bring complex emotions. Especially with a... special relationship like yours."
I nodded, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm out of medication, Nathan. Without insurance, I can't afford a new prescription. I feel like... I'm losing control."
"How are you feeling now?" he asked softly.
"Scared, anxious, angry... the nightmares are back," my voice trembled. "Every time I see him, I just... God, I can't explain it. He's so cold now, so dangerous. But at the same time, I remember who he used to be, that boy who smiled at me in the kitchen."
Nathan leaned forward. "Facing past trauma is always difficult, especially when it suddenly reappears." He took a small pill bottle from his drawer. "I can give you some temporary medication, but you know pills are just aids. You need more coping strategies."
"I know," I stared at my fingers. "It's just... everything happened so fast. The life I struggled to build suddenly collapsed."
"We'll figure this out together," he promised. "One step at a time. Don't forget how far you've come."
When I left the counseling office, it was already dark, and the snowstorm had intensified. I wrapped my coat tightly around me, pulled my scarf up to cover half my face, and walked into the cold night. I immediately noticed a man in a black coat standing across the street, staring at me without any attempt to hide.
I'm being followed.
I quickened my pace, my heart racing. After three blocks, I looked back to confirm—he was still there, maintaining a fixed distance. Professional tactics.
Back at my apartment building, a black sedan was parked across the street. The window slowly rolled down, revealing a cold face. It was Tony!
Shit, he's monitoring me.
Late at night, I woke up from a nightmare, my body drenched in cold sweat. In the dream, I was desperately running through snow, the white ground beneath my feet turning blood-red, Carlo's face appearing and disappearing in the darkness, his cologne surrounding me...
"Just a dream," I told myself, but my body continued to shake. I sat up, turned on the bedside lamp, trying to drive away the fear lurking in the darkness. Outside, moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting the shadow of the surveillance vehicle onto my wall.
As I got up for water, I noticed a paper had been slipped under my door. Picking it up, I saw it was a notice from Russo Properties: lease renewal, rent doubled, effective within one week.
"FUCK!" I crumpled the notice and threw it at the wall. This was Tony's next move—first cut my income, then increase my expenses.
You're really closing in on me, Tony. I collapsed onto the floor, the cold seeping through my jeans. Despair washed over me, threatening to drown me completely.
The saddest part is, even after all this, seeing you still makes my heart flutter just a little.