Page 106 of Isaia

My voice comes out stronger than I feel, cutting through the oppressive silence. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Michele doesn’t flinch. Instead, he leans back in the chair like it’s his throne, his fingers tapping the armrest with a rhythm that sets my teeth on edge, looking the same as always—impeccable suit, slicked-back hair, and an evil expression that makes my skin crawl.

“Is that any way to greet family?” There’s a mocking smile on his disgusting lips.

“You’re not family,” I snap, venom lacing my words, surprising even myself. “Not anymore. You’re trespassing.”

He chuckles softly, but there’s no humor in it. The sound crawls under my skin like something sharp and cold. “I’d watch that tone, Everly,” he says, adjusting the cuffs of his perfectly pressed suit. “You might forget who you’re talking to.”

“I know exactly who I’m talking to,” I bite out, trembling with barely contained anger as I step closer. My pulse thunders in my ears, but I force myself to meet his icy gaze. “And I want you out of my house. Now.”

Another laugh escapes him, darker this time, dripping with disdain. But it’s his eyes that unsettle me the most—cold, calculating, filled with that unshakable arrogance that comes from knowing he always gets what he wants. And right now, that arrogance is trained entirely on me.

“Your manners haven’t improved, I see. Such a shame.” His gaze sweeps over me, slow and cold, like I’m something unpleasant he’s forced to endure.

Luna whines softly from the hallway, and my glare sharpens. “Where’s my dog?”

“She’s in the bedroom,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Had to put the damn mutt away. She was drooling all over my suit.”

My hands tighten as I fight the urge to throw something at him. “You need to leave.”

“I think I’ll stay,” he replies. “We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Then listen.” His words cut through the air, sharp and commanding. “You’re going to pack your things and return to New York with me.”

My body tenses. “Like hell I am.”

“I’m done playing this game with you, Everly.”

“Finally,” I snap, stepping toward the door and flinging it open. “Because I’ve been over it for years. So, leave, and stay out of my fucking life.”

My chest tightens as he rises from the chair, his movements slow, intimidating, every inch of him radiating control. “You’re going to marry Anthony.” The words are flat, delivered like a decree.

I scoff, bitterness lacing my voice. “You must be confused. Anthony’s actually a good man—something you wouldn’t know anything about. He won’t agree to a forced marriage.”

“You’re leaving with me tonight,” he says, stepping closer, the space between us shrinking with every word. “We’re going back to New York. You’re going to marry Anthony, and you’re going to make him believe it’s what you want.”

A harsh, bitter laugh escapes me. “Anthony won’t marry me if I’m forced into it. He’ll see right through your bullshit.”

“That’s why you’re going to convince him that this marriage is exactly what you want.”

“You’re insane.” My pulse thunders in my ears. “Get out of my house.”

He steps closer, his shadow swallowing the sliver of space I’ve tried to maintain. “You should rethink the way you speak to me. I came here as a courtesy to give you a chance to cooperate.”

The weight of his presence presses down on me, but I stand my ground, my skin crawling under his scrutiny.

“I don’t care what you came here for. I’m not going back to New York, and I’m sure as hell not marrying Anthony.”

His expression hardens into something sinister as he steps closer, his presence swelling until it feels like the walls are pressing in around me.

“You think you have a choice in this?”

The air in the room thickens, every breath like dragging cement into my lungs. Isaia’s warmth is gone, replaced by Michele’s icy control.

“Let me remind you of something—your mother’s health, it’s hanging by a thread.”

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