Chapter 4 THE FIRST ESCAPE

CHAPTER 4:

It had been three days since Isabella arrived at Dante Valenti's mansion, but to her, it felt like a lifetime.

She woke up with a plan. To escape and not fail. But today, that would change.

She studied the mansion like a soldier preparing for war. The guards changed shifts every four hours. The east wing was rarely patrolled. And the garden path-lined with tall hedges and marble statues-led toward the rear gates, where the estate met the forest.

She watched, studied, and waited.

And then, she found her moment.

His name was Matteo.

One of Dante's younger guards. Too eager. Too confident. Too easily swayed by a smile and a few well-placed words.

"You don't seem like the others," Isabella said one afternoon, her voice low, her smile shy. "They look at me like I'm a prisoner. You look at me like I'm still a person."

Matteo flushed.

She leaned closer. "I know I'm not supposed to talk to the staff... but I'm glad it's you watching the east wing today."

He swallowed hard. "You shouldn't say things like that."

"Why?" she asked, stepping just slightly closer. "Am I making you nervous?"

He looked away. Perfect.

That night, the plan went into motion.

Isabella dressed in black-leggings, long sleeves, even gloves. She tied her hair back and tucked it under a dark scarf. She had no phone, no money, no real plan.

Just one goal.

"Run."

She waited until the hallway lights dimmed, signaling the changing of shifts. She crept past the library, tiptoed through the music room, and slipped into the east wing.

Matteo was exactly where she expected him-alone.

She approached silently, her steps like whispers.

He turned and jumped. "Isabella?"

She didn't give him time to react. She pressed her hand to his chest and whispered, "Please."

He blinked. "You can't be here. If Dante finds out-"

"I need air. Just five minutes in the garden."

"He said-"

"I know what he said." Her voice trembled, her eyes wide. "But I'm suffocating. Just five minutes. You'll be right there with me. Please."

Matteo hesitated.

She stepped even closer, And that's when he opened the door.

She didn't thank him. She ran.

The night air was cool and sharp, like freedom.

Isabella raced down the stone path, her breath ragged, heart thundering in her ears. The garden blurred around her. The hedge maze loomed ahead, and beyond it, the trees.

She had no idea where she was going. But she was going.

She reached the rear gates. It was locked

She scaled the side wall instead, fingers scraping against stone, knees bleeding, every muscle screaming. She slipped once-caught herself-and finally pulled herself over.

She dropped to the ground outside the estate with a thud.

Pain shot through her ankle.

She didn't care. She just stood and started running again.

Branches whipped her arms. Rocks cut her feet. But she kept going, deeper into the woods, into the dark.

Until the light hit her. Bright, blinding. A flashlight,then another and then voices.

"S-t-o-p!"

She tried to run again.

Rough hands grabbed her from behind.

"No!" she screamed, kicking and twisting.

Matteo was one of them. But Dante was not.

"No." She screamed again.

Dante didn't come until later.

And when he did, everything changed.

They dragged her back like a criminal.

Matteo wouldn't meet her eyes.

She was thrown-literally thrown-into a room she hadn't seen before. Smaller. Darker. No windows.

Then he arrived.

Dante.

Black coat. Black shirt. Black rage in his eyes.

He shut the door behind him slowly.

"You lied to my men," he said, voice low. "You used one of my guards."

Isabella stood, arms crossed, chin high.

"And I'd do it again."

He didn't move.

"I told you what would happen if you tried to run."

"I'm not afraid of you."

"You should be."

"I'm not."

His eyes flickered.

In one sudden move, he crossed the room and slammed his hand against the wall beside her head, trapping her.

"Don't mistake mercy for weakness," he growled. "You think I won't hurt you? You think I won't break you?"

She stared him down, lips trembling but eyes defiant.

"Then do it."

His jaw clenched.

She pushed further. "What's the matter? Can't handle a woman who doesn't bend?"

His breathing deepened.

She was close enough to feel the heat radiating from him. Close enough to see the crack in his armor. His hand dropped slowly.

And then he spoke, quiet but deadly.

"You want pain? I can give you pain. But you'll beg for it to stop. And still, I won't stop."

"I'll never beg you."

"We'll see."

He turned his back to her. "You're not to leave this house again. If you try, I'll make sure you never walk out of another one."

"You going to chain me to a wall?"

"If that's what it takes."

She laughed bitterly. "Is this what love looks like in your world? Threats and cages?"

"I never said anything about love."

"Then what is this?" she snapped. "What do you get out of this? A wife who hates you? A woman who looks at you like you're a monster?"

He turned slowly.

And the look in his eyes stopped her cold.

"I get control," he said. "I get payment. And maybe-just maybe-I get to see how far you'll go before you break."

She didn't respond.

Because deep down, she knew something had shifted. Not just in him. But in her.

There was something about Dante Valenti that terrified her-and something that pulled her in like gravity.

"Do your worst," she whispered.

He stepped closer again. "I haven't even started."

Their eyes locked. Her breath hitched.

The air between them grew heavy-too thick with rage, too thick with heat.

He turned and walked out. And the door slammed behind him.

Hours passed.

Isabella lay curled on the cold floor, with no blanket,no pillow. Just silence. But her mind wouldn't quiet.

"Why didn't he hurt me?"

"Why did he look at me like that?"

"Worse... Still."

"Why do I feel like I wanted him to?"

She closed her eyes tight.

Her mind swirled with different question.