The silence inside the church was heavy, pressing against my ears until even my breathing sounded too loud.
Isabella studied me the way collectors studied rare objects not with admiration, but with ownership. As if she believed that by forcing me into this space, she had already won something.
"You're calmer than I expected," she said lightly. "Most women panic when their secrets are exposed."
"I don't have secrets," I replied. "Only truths you're afraid to face."
She smiled, slow and deliberate. "Still pretending this is about morality?"
"No," I said. "This is about limits. And you crossed mine."
Behind me, I could feel Luca's restraint like a coiled weapon. He hadn't spoken, but his presence was unmistakable controlled, lethal, waiting.
Isabella turned her attention to him. "You trained her well."
"I didn't train her," Luca replied coldly. "I underestimated her."
That earned me a glance sharp, assessing from Isabella.
"Interesting," she murmured. "Then perhaps you'll understand why this ends tonight."
She snapped her fingers.
From the shadows near the altar, two men stepped forward, dragging a chair into the light.
Mrs. Alvarez was tied to it.
Alive. Bruised. Exhausted.
My chest tightened painfully, but I didn't move.
"You see?" Isabella said softly. "Still breathing. I'm not a monster."
"You kidnapped an elderly woman," I said. "That already answers that question."
Mrs. Alvarez lifted her head weakly. Her eyes found mine and she smiled.
A small, stubborn smile.
I swallowed hard.
"This ends now," I said.
Isabella sighed theatrically. "You keep saying that, but you still haven't offered me anything."
"I'm offering you a way out," I replied. "You walk away. You disappear. You leave my family untouched."
"And in return?" she asked.
I met her gaze. "You live."
A beat.
Then she laughed.
"Do you know how many times men have said that to me?" she asked. "Threats only matter when they're believable."
I took another step forward.
"They're believable now," I said. "Because I'm not threatening you. I'm deciding what kind of woman I am."
Luca stiffened. "Elena".
"I know," I said quietly, without looking back. "But this is mine."
Isabella tilted her head. "You'd spare me?"
"I would," I said. "Because killing you makes you a martyr. Letting you live makes you irrelevant."
For the first time, something flickered in her eyes.
Uncertainty.
"You think mercy is power?" she asked.
"No," I replied. "Control is. And mercy is how I prove I have it."
Silence stretched between us.
Then Isabella smiled again but this time, it was brittle.
"You really believe you've won," she said.
"I know I have," I replied. "Because you needed me here. And I don't need you at all."
She exhaled sharply and snapped her fingers again.
The men released Mrs. Alvarez's restraints and pushed her toward me.
I caught her before she fell.
"You should have been afraid," Isabella said. "That's your mistake."
"No," I said softly. "Your mistake was assuming fear still rules me."
I turned to Luca. "Take her home."
Luca hesitated for a fraction of a second then nodded. He signaled Marcus, who moved swiftly, wrapping Mrs. Alvarez in a coat and guiding her out.
When the doors closed behind them, the air shifted.
Isabella and I stood alone.
"This isn't over," she said quietly.
"No," I agreed. "But it's no longer on your terms."
Her eyes darkened. "You think sparing me makes you strong."
"It makes me decisive," I corrected. "And that's what scares you."
She watched me for a long moment, then stepped back into the shadows.
"We'll see," she said.
By the time Luca returned, Isabella was gone.
The drive home was silent.
Finally, Luca spoke. "You let her live."
"Yes."
"That choice will haunt us."
"Maybe," I said. "But killing her would have haunted me."
He glanced at me then not as a strategist, not as a mafia king but as a man seeing his partner clearly for the first time.
"You chose your own line," he said.
"I chose our future," I replied.
When we arrived home, Mrs. Alvarez was already resting, doctors attending her carefully. She reached for my hand.
"You are stronger than you know," she whispered.
I squeezed her fingers. "I learned from surviving."
Later that night, alone in the bedroom, I rested my hands over my stomach.
They tried to use you against me, I thought.
Instead, you taught me who I am.
Outside, the city lights glimmered unaware that a balance had shifted.
The war wasn't over.
But for the first time, I wasn't reacting.
I was leading.