Chapter 5
1169 Words
The wedding festivities concluded, and Isabella found herself being driven to the Saviano estate. Enrico had left almost immediately after the ceremony, claiming urgent business to attend to. He had promised to join her later, but the abruptness of his departure left Isabella feeling abandoned and overwhelmed.
She wondered if this would be a usual routine between them.
As the car approached the grand gates of the Saviano estate, Isabella's heart raced. The car came to a stop, and the driver opened the door for her. She stepped out, taking a deep breath to steady herself.
A maid was waiting at the entrance, her demeanor respectful yet warm. She curtsied slightly as Isabella approached. "Welcome, Mrs. Saviano. My name is Alma. I have been assigned to you personally by Mr. Saviano. If there is anything you need, please don't hesitate to ask."
Isabella managed a small smile, grateful for the kind introduction. "Thank you, Alma. Please, lead the way."
Alma nodded and gestured for Isabella to follow her. They walked through the grand foyer, its marble floors and crystal chandeliers exuding opulence. The walls were adorned with intricate artwork and family portraits, each piece a testament to the Saviano legacy. Isabella couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the sheer luxury of it all.
As they ascended the staircase, Alma continued to speak in a soothing tone. "Mr. Saviano has instructed me to ensure you are comfortable and have everything you need. Your room has been prepared, and if you require anything else, please let me know."
Isabella followed Alma down a long corridor, the plush carpet muffling their footsteps. They stopped in front of a large, ornate door, and Alma pushed it open, stepping aside to let Isabella enter first.
Isabella's breath caught in her throat as she stepped into the room. It was spacious and elegantly furnished, with a large canopy bed dominating the center. The windows were draped with heavy silk curtains, and a cozy sitting area was arranged near a fireplace. A vanity table, complete with a mirror and an array of perfumes and cosmetics, stood against one wall. The overall effect was both luxurious and intimate.
"This is your room, Mrs. Saviano," Alma said, her voice gentle. "Mr. Saviano wanted to ensure you had your own space to feel comfortable."
Isabella's mind raced as she took in her surroundings. Her own room? She had expected to share a room with Enrico, but this arrangement was both surprising and somewhat relieving. It gave her a sense of privacy and control in a situation where she felt she had very little.
"Thank you, Alma," Isabella said, trying to keep her voice steady.
Alma smiled warmly. "I'm glad you like it. If you need anything at all, please don't hesitate to ring the bell by the door. I will be nearby."
Isabella nodded, watching as Alma prepared to leave. But just as Alma reached the door, the sound of hurried footsteps and a woman’s voice shouting down the hall filled the air.
“Enrico! Enrico!”
A woman appeared at the door, dressed seductively in a tight, revealing dress. Her presence was commanding and provocative, and she carried herself with a confidence that suggested she was used to getting what she wanted.
The woman barely glanced at Isabella, her eyes sweeping over her dismissively as if she were a mere servant. “Alma, where is Enrico?” she demanded, her tone sharp and impatient.
Alma straightened, a look of disgust crossed her face but she tried to keep her expression neutral. “Mr. Saviano is not at home, Miss. He has left instructions that he should not be disturbed by any visitors."
The woman’s eyes flickered with annoyance, and she crossed her arms defiantly. “I’ll wait. I’m sure he won’t mind seeing me when he returns."
Alma shook her head politely but resolutely. “I’m afraid I must insist, Miss. Mr. Saviano was very clear in his instructions. He does not wish to see any visitors this evening. His priority is to make sure his wife is settled in and comfortable.”
Isabella watched the exchange, feeling a mixture of confusion and unease. Who was this woman, and why did she act as though she had a claim to Enrico’s attention? The woman's refusal to acknowledge Isabella’s presence only added to the tension.
The woman’s expression turned icy, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she turned her gaze to Isabella, chuckling coldly. "So this is the trophy wife Enrico was talking about," she sneered. "He should have at least tried to go for a beautiful one, not an ugly duckling."
Isabella felt a surge of anger rises within her. Who did this woman think she was, speaking to her so rudely? Clenching her fists at her sides, she took a step forward. "Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that?"
The woman raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. "Oh, did I strike a nerve? I suppose it’s not your fault Enrico had to settle for someone like you. Maybe he’s gone blind."
Isabella's face flushed with anger. "You have no right to speak to me that way. If you have a problem, take it up with Enrico."
The woman laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. "Problem? The only problem here is you. You’re just a pretty little pawn in Enrico’s game, nothing more."
Isabella stepped closer, her voice low and fierce. "You don’t know anything about me or my marriage. So, you will do well to watch your mouth when you speak to me."
The woman’s smile faded, her eyes narrowing. "Wife? Did you just say, wife?" The woman chuckled. "I’m Enrico’s woman," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "I’ve been by his side for years, and you’re nothing but a convenient arrangement."
Isabella’s heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of anger and confusion swirling within her. She glanced at Alma, who stood nearby, her expression of discomfort and concern. Isabella turned back to the woman.
How dare Enrico marry her when he already has a woman, Isabella thought to herself, the realization cutting deep. And from the way she spoke, it seemed Enrico had been discussing her with this woman. How dare he?
With her gaze still locked on the woman, she asked, "Is it true Alma? Is this woman truly Enrico's...woman?"
Alma hesitated, her eyes shifting uncomfortably. The pause stretched painfully, and Isabella felt her heart sink. Alma's silence spoke louder than words. Isabella took Alma's hesitation as confirmation, that this woman standing before her was not lying.
The woman chuckled, the sound grating on Isabella's nerves. "You see? Even the help knows your place here. You’re just a temporary fixture, a pawn in whatever game Enrico is playing."
Isabella's hands balled into fists at her sides. "Get out," she said, her voice low but firm. "You have no right to be here."
The woman's smirk widened. "Oh, I’m leaving. But remember sweetheart, Enrico is mine. No one else."
- Writer
