CHAPTER 41: CHAPTER 41

Leonardo’s patience had already thinned the moment he realized Isabella was missing. His footsteps were quick, sharp, echoing through the marble hall like warning bells. With a small hand gesture, his bodyguards moved discreetly, fanning out to search for her.

Within minutes, one returned and leaned close to his ear.

"Sir... she’s in the garden."

Leonardo’s tense expression eased, just a fraction.

But as he made his way toward the exit, his path was suddenly blocked.

Clicking heels.

Strong perfumes.

Painted smiles that didn’t reach the eyes.

The woman in the red gown stood at the front, crocodile tears shimmering in her lashes, her wine glass trembling dramatically in hand. Behind her, a few others hovered like backup singers waiting for a cue.

"Leonardo..." she sniffled, voice trembling like a tragic actress. "Your wife... she’s so naughty. She dropped pastry all over the floor, shouted, and then—she cursed us!"

She even wiped a nonexistent tear with her finger.

Leonardo stopped.

Expression blank.

Eyes cold.

He looked at her like she was nothing more than a speck of dust clinging to his suit.

"Move," he said, his voice flat like the flick of a blade in the dark.

The smile froze on her lips.

Everyone around her stilled.

Even the boldest ones didn’t dare breathe.

Because when Leonardo Moretti gave an order like that there were no second warnings.

The women could only step aside, swallowing their pride as he walked past them without another glance.

"He didn’t even listen!" the woman in the red gown named Sherly snapped in frustration, her painted nails digging into her wine glass as she glared toward the doors Leonardo had just disappeared through. "He just walked past me like I was invisible!"

Her cheeks flushed with both rage and embarrassment. "No way that little weak thing has him wrapped around her finger... we have to follow him. I need to see what hold she has on him!"

But one of her friends, a tall woman in emerald silk, quickly grabbed her wrist. "Sherly, no! That’s not a good idea!" she whispered in a panic, eyes darting around. "You know what they say—he doesn’t warn twice."

Sherly scoffed. "It’s just a little peek! I’m not going to walk into their bedchamber."

The third woman, shorter and trembling slightly, leaned in with wide eyes. "Do you remember what happened to that woman from the Russo family last year?" she whispered. "She flirted with him at that summer banquet—once. Next morning, she was flown back to Italy with a broken leg and a deal her family couldn’t refuse."

The emerald-silk friend shivered. "And didn’t someone say he once... you know... killed a woman for trying to sneak into his room?"

Sherly went quiet.

"...Tch," Sherly finally muttered, biting her lip. "He’s so ruthless."

"Exactly," the third girl whispered.

"However... we can sneak a quick peek and run away before he notices. How about that?" Sherly whispered with a gleam in her eye, like a gossiping fox sniffing around a lion’s den.

Her friends exchanged nervous glances but their curiosity was stronger than their fear.

"...Alright," one finally muttered, and they quickly followed the path Leonardo had taken toward the garden, keeping their heels quiet on the stone floor and sticking close to the walls.

But what they saw stopped them cold in their tracks.

There, in the garden washed under soft golden light, stood Leonardo Moretti. And he was not pleased.

He was towering in front of Isabella, his broad frame tense, his dark suit molding to his body like armor. His grey eyes were icy, locked onto the girl in the lavender gown like a storm ready to strike.

Isabella stood frozen, her lips parted slightly, fingers twitching at her sides. The wind blew softly through her hair, but her shoulders were stiff like a child caught doing something terribly wrong.

"I told you to stay there," Leonardo said, his voice dangerously low. Each word felt like cold steel.

"I–I..." Isabella’s words caught in her throat.

She didn’t know what to say.

How could she tell him that strangers mocked her, laughed at her, tripped her... That she’d been humiliated to the point of running away? It was too embarrassing. She couldn’t even say it out loud.

Leonardo’s jaw clenched tighter.

"What did I say to you?" he asked again, each syllable sharp and controlled.

"...Stay," she whispered, her eyes downcast.

But she flinched when his voice cut in, slicing through the moment.

"You don’t understand how dangerous this place is," he snapped, his tone colder than ever. "You think this is a tea party with pastries and polite smiles? One mistake, Isabella..one moment out of place and you could disappear in this world."

Her eyes widened.

"I’m sorry..." Isabella whispered, her voice barely above the rustle of leaves in the breeze. Her head lowered, her hands gripped the sides of her gown tightly as if trying to hold herself together.

Leonardo stood still. His gaze was sharp ice cold, unreadable. The kind of stare that made grown men confess secrets they swore they’d take to the grave.

He didn’t move. Just looked at her and in that silence, Isabella felt smaller. Like she had truly crossed a line she didn’t understand yet. Her chest ached with the weight of his disappointment, even though part of her still didn’t know what she had done wrong besides being weak.

*Silence*

*Silence*

But then, just when the tension wrapped around her so tightly she could hardly breathe—

Leonardo finally spoke.

His voice wasn’t loud but it was razor-sharp.

"We’ll talk about this later," he said simply, his tone flat.

Then he turned and walked a few steps ahead before pausing.

Without looking back, he said,

"Let’s go."

Isabella quickly followed, the soft fabric of her gown brushing her ankles, and her heart heavy in her chest.

They had barely taken a few steps when suddenly—

Leonardo stopped.

His movements were silent, but his aura shifted to sharp and alert.

Before Isabella could even ask what was wrong, he turned around and began walking back with calm, measured steps. But something about his silence sent chills down her spine.

"L-Leonardo...?" she whispered, confused.

He didn’t answer.

And then—

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

Isabella flinched and gasped, her hands flying to her ears as the deafening shots rang through the quiet garden. Sparks flew as bullets embedded perfectly into the stone wall, right above the hedge.

The silence that followed was terrifying.

And then—

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh...!" came a loud screams.

Sherly and her two friends stumbled out from behind the bushes, faces pale as paper, their hands raised in surrender.

"W-we’re sorry!" Sherly stammered, trying to keep her voice steady. "We were just... just playing around! N-not spying on you or anything! I swear!"

The women beside her nodded rapidly, trembling as they looked at the bullet holes—each one shot with chilling precision just inches above their heads.

"I–It was a misunderstanding! We weren’t going to do anything!"

Leonardo didn’t speak.

He just stared.

Expressionless.

The gun still in his gloved hand and somehow, that silent stare was even more terrifying than the shots.

They all took a shaky step back.

Even Isabella, who had already been shivering, now stared in disbelief, her heart hammering in her chest.

His grey eyes locked onto the trembling women’s, who stood frozen in fear, still trying to explain still trying to beg their way out of the situation.

But he wasn’t interested in apologies.

He didn’t like their voices.

He didn’t even want to hear them.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Three clean shots hit the ground, just inches from their feet.

The women screamed and jumped back in panic, nearly tripping over their gowns.

That was it.

That was all it took.

With shrieks of terror, Sherly and her friends turned and bolted out of the garden, heels clacking wildly on the stone as they ran...crying, shaking, desperate to escape the man they’d thought they could play games with.

Leonardo calmly lowered his gun and slid it back beneath his coat like it was part of his daily routine.

Isabella stood frozen beside the stone bench, her eyes wide, her lips parted in shock. She had never seen anyone act like that so calmly, so deadly, over something so small.

But that was the thing.

To Leonardo Moretti... nothing was ever small when it came to pride, control, or his rules.

They were lucky, actually.

Lucky today was council meeting day, a sacred day among mafia circles, a day when no blood was allowed to be spilled, no harm done to another head or their family.

That was the only reason they left unharmed.

Leonardo turned on his heel, his coat shifting elegantly as he began walking ahead again, not sparing even a glance toward the women who had just fled screaming.

But after a few steps, he noticed there’s no footsteps behind him.

He paused, shoulders stiff with irritation.

"...Do you want an invitation now?" he asked over his shoulder, voice flat and cold. His hand slowly moved to pat the side of his coat, where his gun was holstered—