The file was unassuming. A slim, leather-bound folder with a single brass clasp, resting at the center of Edith's immaculate desk.
"Your first assignment," Edith had said, her expression unreadable. "Open it."
Isabella had expected something routine—perhaps a politician's child or a business magnate's heir. She had not expected this.
Gabrielle Angelina.
Her stomach turned. The name was printed in clean, block letters, but to her, it dripped like blood. The Angelinas—an old Venetian family whose fortune was whispered to be built on smuggling, blackmail, and bodies buried under marble floors. More than that… they were the name her nightmares had always hovered around, the shadowy rumor tied to the fire that had devoured her home.
She glanced up at Edith. "Is this some kind of joke?"
The headmistress's eyes softened—just barely. "No. Gabrielle Angelina is the underboss now. He's requested you personally to protect his son."
The air in the office felt heavier.
"Why me?" Isabella asked, her voice sharper than intended. "My specialty is cyber security. If he wants someone to watch his servers or trace money laundering—"
"He doesn't," Edith cut in. "He wants you as a nanny."
"That makes no sense."
"I told him as much," Edith said, folding her hands. "But Gabrielle Angelina was… insistent."
Isabella didn't like the idea of stepping anywhere near that family, let alone living under their roof. And yet, the part of her that had spent years searching for answers hummed at the thought.
"What's the child's name?"
"Michael," Edith said. "They call him Mikey."
Edith leaned forward, her voice low. "You will be walking into a nest of vipers. You may find truths you aren't ready for."
Isabella closed the folder and stood. "Then it's about time I sharpened my fangs."