THE MAFIA KING'S REBELLIOUS BRIDE

Chapter 6

The woman strutted down the hall, her heels clicking against the marble floor, leaving Isabella standing there, her body trembling with anger and hurt. The emotions were almost too much to bear. She felt betrayed, humiliated, and deeply uncertain about her place in this new, intimidating world.

She had hoped that even if Enrico didn't value this marriage and merely saw her as a contract bride, he would at least give her some respect as his wife.

Alma stepped forward, her face etched with worry. "Mrs. Saviano, I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do—"

Isabella shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes as she struggled to hold them back. "No, Alma. Thank you. I just... I need to be alone right now."

Alma tried to reassure her. "The woman bears no importance to Mr. Saviano, she is—"

"I want to be alone, Alma," Isabella insisted, cutting her off. She could sense Alma's concern, but her words meant nothing to her and wouldn't take away the humiliation she had just faced at the hands of that woman.

Alma hesitated, clearly wanting to say more, but she respected her madam's wishes. "Of course, Mrs. Saviano. I’ll be just outside if you need anything."

As Alma left the room, closing the door softly behind her, Isabella sank onto the edge of the bed, her mind racing. How could Enrico marry her when he was involved with someone else? The woman's words echoed in her mind, each one a painful reminder of the reality she now faced.

She thought back to her father, Angelo De Luca, and the life she had left behind. Her father had also kept a mistress, and she was the product of that affair. A fact that had always pained her stepmother. Perhaps this was a pattern for powerful men, a way to exert control and assert their dominance. The realization made her heart ache even more.

Isabella lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The memory of the woman's mocking words replayed in her mind. "So this is the trophy wife Enrico was talking about," she had sneered. The idea that Enrico had discussed her with this woman, reducing her to a mere trophy, made Isabella's blood boil.

She couldn't understand why it angered her so much. After all, this was just a marriage based on an agreement. She didn't know Enrico, and she certainly didn't love him. Yet, the thought of him being with another woman, discussing her behind her back, made her feel a deep sense of betrayal and anger.

Is this what her stepmother had felt all those years, knowing that her father had another woman in his life? The fear of sharing her husband, of never being enough, and the constant reminder of that betrayal through Isabella herself. Isabella had always resented her stepmother's coldness, but now she could see the pain and fear that must have driven it.

The hours passed slowly, each minute stretching into an eternity as Isabella lay in bed, lost in her thoughts. Eventually, exhaustion overtook her, and she drifted into a restless sleep.

Later that night, Enrico arrived at the mansion. The grand entrance was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the polished marble floors. He was greeted by a few maids and Alma, who had been waiting anxiously for his return. Enrico's presence was commanding, and the staff quickly fell into their respectful positions as he walked through the foyer.

As he ascended the stairs to his room, Alma called out to him, her voice tinged with concern. "Mr. Saviano, may I have a word?"

Enrico paused, turning to face her. "What is it, Alma?"

Alma hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Since Mrs. Saviano arrived, she has refused to come out of her room or eat anything."

Enrico’s expression remained indifferent. He shrugged slightly. "She is not a child, Alma. She will eat when she is hungry."

Alma bit her lip, clearly troubled by his lack of concern. "But sir, there's something else. Miss Carmen came around earlier today and confronted Mrs. Saviano."

At the mention of Carmen's name, Enrico's eyes darkened. He stopped mid-step on the stairs, turning back to face Alma. "Carmen was here? What did she want?"

Alma glanced around nervously, making sure they were not overheard as she was aware this was a sensitive conversation, and the last thing she wanted was the other maids gossiping about Mrs. Saviano. "She was quite confrontational, sir. She said some very hurtful things to Mrs. Saviano. I believe it has deeply affected her."

Enrico’s jaw tightened, and his eyes flashed with anger. He had anticipated trouble, but he hadn't expected Carmen to act so quickly and boldly. It seemed she failed to take their previous conversation seriously. "What exactly did Carmen say?"

Alma recounted the confrontation, her voice steady but filled with worry. "She called Mrs. Saviano a trophy wife, mocked her appearance, and made it clear that she believes you belong to her. Mrs. Saviano was very upset, and she hasn't left her room or eaten since."

Enrico's anger simmered just below the surface. Carmen's behavior was unacceptable, and it was clear she intended to undermine Isabella's position in his life. He took a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure.

Even if this was a marriage based on an agreement, Enrico was a man of his word. Isabella was now his wife, and he intended to give her that respect. She deserved to feel secure in her new role, despite the unconventional circumstances.

"Thank you for informing me, Alma," he said, his voice controlled but firm. Enrico thought for a moment, then spoke with resolve. "Tell Isabella to report to my room immediately."

"Yes, Mr. Saviano," Alma replied, quickly making her way up the stairs.

Enrico continued to his room, determined to address the situation with Isabella. When he got inside, he felt the weight of the day's events pressing down on him. He entered the bathroom, pulled off his clothes, and stepped into the shower.

The hot water cascaded over his body, washing away the grime and stress. As he stood under the spray, he couldn't help but think about the confrontation between Carmen and Isabella.

When Enrico was done with his shower, he stepped out, grabbed a towel, and began drying himself off. The steam from the hot water swirled around him, creating a hazy atmosphere in the bathroom. He moved back into the room, still toweling his hair, when the door suddenly opened.