Chapter 8: Isabella’s Panic
Isabella paced back and forth in the master bedroom, her phone pressed tightly against her ear.
“Answer the damn phone, Alessio,” she hissed.
She had been trying to reach him for the past twenty minutes with no success. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Vittorio had not gotten into the car. The bomb was still in place, untouched. And now her men at the warehouse had gone silent.
She threw the phone onto the bed in frustration and walked over to the window. From there, she could see the front gate. The fake driver was still standing beside the car, looking increasingly nervous.
Isabella’s mind raced.
How did Vittorio know?
Had someone betrayed them? Or had he simply gotten suspicious at the last minute?
She picked up her phone again and tried calling one of her contacts in the police force — a captain who had been on her payroll for years. This time, the man actually answered.
“Mrs. Morelli,” the captain said, his voice tense. “I can’t talk long.”
“What’s going on?” Isabella demanded. “Why is everyone avoiding my calls?”
There was a pause.
“Something big is happening,” the captain said quietly. “Someone with serious connections is moving against you and Mr. Morelli. I don’t know who yet, but they’re pulling strings at a very high level. Even some of our people are being investigated.”
Isabella felt a chill run down her spine.
“Investigated for what?”
“Everything,” the captain replied. “Financial crimes, bribery, and… other things. I have to go. Don’t call this number again.”
The line went dead.
Isabella stood frozen in the middle of the room, her mind spinning.
This wasn’t just Vittorio acting on his own. Someone powerful was helping him. Someone who had the ability to freeze accounts and pressure law enforcement.
She thought of the woman who had appeared on the plane — the nanny who had somehow gained Alexander’s trust so quickly.
Could it be her?
Isabella’s eyes narrowed.
Whoever was behind this, they had made a grave mistake by underestimating her.
She picked up her phone again and made another call.
This time, her voice was ice cold.
May you like
“Prepare the jet,” she said. “And get my passport. I’m leaving the country tonight.”
