BELLA'S POV
The pen felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
I stared at the contract in my hands. My vision blurred. The words swam together until they meant nothing.
Three years. That's what it said. Three years of my life for Mom's.
Fair trade, right?
So why did it feel like I was signing away my soul?
"Isabella." Dante's voice cut through my panic. "You're running out of time."
I looked up at him. He sat perfectly still, watching me with those cold gray eyes. Like he already knew what I'd choose.
Like he'd always known.
"If I sign this, what happens to me?"
"You become mine."
Three simple words. But they made my stomach drop.
"I don't understand—"
"You'll live in my house. Wear the clothes I buy. Go where I tell you. Do what I order." He leaned forward slightly. "You won't have friends. Won't have privacy. Won't have a life outside of what I allow."
"That's not living. That's being a prisoner."
"No. Prisoners don't get paid. Prisoners don't get to save their dying mothers." His eyes never left mine. "You're not a prisoner, Isabella. You're an investment. And I protect my investments."
"By controlling every part of my existence?"
"By keeping you alive." Something flickered in his expression. "The world I'm bringing you into—it eats girls like you. Sweet. Innocent. Soft." He said soft like it was a disease. "You'll either learn to be hard, or you'll break. I'm betting you won't break."
"And if I do?"
"Then your mother still gets her treatment. Our contract is binding. But you'll be useless to me broken."
I looked back at the paper. My hand shook so badly I could barely hold the pen.
"What exactly will you make me do?"
"Attend events. Listen. Remember. Report back." He paused. "Sometimes I'll need you to get close to people. Smile at them. Make them trust you. Make them talk."
"You want me to seduce people for information?"
"I want you to be smart. Seduction is just one tool. You'll learn others."
My throat tightened. "I've never—I'm not—"
"A virgin?" He said it casually. Like discussing the weather. "I know. Your background check was very thorough."
Heat flooded my face. "You had no right—"
"I had every right. You're about to become my responsibility. I needed to know everything." He tilted his head. "No boyfriend. No relationship history. You've spent three years working yourself to death. When was the last time you did something just for yourself?"
I couldn't remember.
"That life is over now," Dante continued. "You'll have money. Nice clothes. A room bigger than this entire apartment. You'll eat three meals a day instead of skipping them to save money."
"You know about that too?"
"I know you're five pounds underweight. I know you donated plasma twice last month for extra cash. I know you steal sugar packets from the diner to have something sweet at home." His voice softened slightly. "I know you're drowning, Isabella. I'm throwing you a rope. All you have to do is grab it."
Tears spilled over. I couldn't stop them.
"I don't want to be owned by anyone."
"Then your mother dies. Choose."
I pressed my eyes shut. Saw Mom's face. Pale. Weak. Dying.
I opened my eyes and signed my name.
The pen scratched across paper. Each letter felt like a piece of me dying. But when I finished, something settled in my chest.
Done. It was done.
I couldn't take it back now.
Dante took the contract and studied my signature. "Good. Your mother's treatment starts tomorrow at eight AM. Dr. Patel will handle everything."
"How do you know Dr. Patel?"
"I know everyone who matters in this city." He stood and pulled something from his pocket. A key. Silver. Heavy. "Your new address. Move in tonight. My driver will help with your things."
I took the key with numb fingers. "Tonight? But I need time—"
"You don't have time. The gala starts at eight. That gives you seven hours to pack your life, move into the mansion, and get ready." He walked to the door. "Oh, and Isabella? Say goodbye to your mother. You won't see her for a few days."
"What? Why not?"
"Because you'll be too busy learning your new role. And because I need her focused on getting better, not worrying about you." He opened the door. "She can't know what you're doing for me. Ever. If she asks, you got a new job. Better pay. Corporate assistant or something boring."
"You want me to lie to her?"
"I want you to protect her. The less she knows, the safer she is." His eyes hardened. "There are people in my world who would use her against you. Against me. If they think she's leverage, she becomes a target."
Ice flooded my veins. "What kind of people?"
"The kind who make me look kind." He stepped into the hallway. "Seven PM. Don't be late, little bird."
"Stop calling me that."
He almost smiled. "No."
Then he was gone.
I sat alone in that private waiting room, holding a key to a life I didn't want.
The door opened again. I looked up hoping—what? That Dante had changed his mind? That this was all some sick test?
But it was Tommy. The big man who'd been with Dante.
"Miss Romano." He nodded respectfully. "I'm here to escort you home. Boss's orders."
"I can get home myself—"
"No, you can't. Not anymore." He gestured to the hallway. "You're Dante Salvatore's property now. That means you get protection. Whether you want it or not."
Property. The word made me want to scream.
But I stood and followed him anyway. What choice did I have?
Outside, a black car waited. The same one from earlier. Tommy opened the door.
"One hour to pack. That's all you get. Boss wants you settled before tonight."
I climbed in. The leather seats were soft. Expensive. Nothing like my rusty old Honda that barely ran.
My old life was already disappearing.
As Tommy drove, I stared at the key in my palm. Silver. Heavy. Cold.
Like a shackle.
My phone buzzed. Unknown number.
I opened the text.
*Your apartment building. Fourth floor. East corner unit. Blue door. Crack in the hallway tile outside your entrance. I know where you live, Isabella. I know everything about you. Soon, everyone will. —V*
My blood turned to ice.
I showed Tommy the message with shaking hands.
His face went dark. He immediately called someone. "Boss, we got a problem. Viktor made contact."
I could hear Dante's voice through the phone. Sharp. Angry.
Tommy hung up and looked at me in the mirror. "Change of plans. We're not going to your apartment. Too dangerous."
"But my things—"
"I'll send someone to pack for you. Right now, we're going straight to the mansion." His eyes were serious. "Miss Romano, you need to understand something. Viktor Kozlov is the most dangerous man in Chicago. Except for Dante."
"Why is he texting me? How does he even know I exist?"
"Because someone told him. Someone close to Dante." Tommy's jaw clenched. "Which means we have a rat."
A rat. A spy. Someone working against Dante.
And I'd just signed my life over to him.
"Tommy, I want out. I changed my mind. I don't want—"
"Too late. You signed. You're in." He met my eyes in the mirror. "But I'll tell you something. Dante might be cold. Might be ruthless. But he keeps his people safe. If you're loyal to him, he'll die before he lets anyone hurt you."
"And if I'm not loyal?"
Tommy didn't answer.
The car pulled up to massive gates. They opened automatically. Beyond them stretched a driveway that seemed endless.
At the end sat a mansion. Not a house. A mansion. Three stories. Made of stone. Windows everywhere.
This was where I'd live now.
My prison wrapped in luxury.
The car stopped. Tommy opened my door.
"Welcome home, Miss Romano."
But it wasn't home. Home was my tiny apartment with the leaky faucet and broken heater. Home was Mom's hospital room. Home was Rosie's Diner at two AM.
This was something else entirely.
I climbed out on shaky legs.
The front door opened.
Dante stood there, silhouetted against the light. Waiting.
"You're early," he said. "Good. That means we have time to go over the rules."
Rules. Of course there were rules.
He turned and walked inside, expecting me to follow.
I looked back at the gates. Already closed. Already locked.
No escape.
I followed Dante into the mansion.
The door closed behind me with a sound like a coffin lid.
And somewhere in the shadows, Dante said something that made my blood freeze.
"Oh, and Isabella? There's something I forgot to mention in the contract. Something important."
I turned to face him.
His eyes glowed in the darkness. Predatory. Dangerous.
"You can never leave. Not really. Because even if you survive the three years—even if you get your mother healthy and walk away—you'll always belong to me." He stepped closer. "You've seen too much. Know too much. If you ever betray me, if you ever tell anyone what you see in this house—"
"You'll kill me. I know."
"No." His smile was cold. "I'll kill everyone you've ever loved. Your mother. Your old coworkers. That landlord who let you pay rent late. Every single person who ever showed you kindness." He leaned in close. "And then I'll kill you. Slowly. So you have time to regret it."
I couldn't breathe.
"Do we understand each other, little bird?"
I nodded. Couldn't speak.
"Good. Now come. We have work to do."
He walked away.
I stood frozen in that dark entryway.
What had I done?
What had I become?