Chapter 3 - The Mafia Boss’s Eldest Son Hated Me—Until He Discovered the Secret My Father Had Hidden About His Mother’s Death
Three weeks after I arrived at the Costa estate, Michael still refused to speak to me.
He was sixteen.
Tall.
Dark-haired.
With Arthur's serious eyes and Catherine's stubborn chin.
He loved his siblings fiercely.
He was protective of his father.
And he seemed convinced I had arrived to replace his mother.
I didn't blame him.
But that didn't make it easy.
Every morning, he avoided me at breakfast.
Every evening, he disappeared into his room.
If I entered a room, he often left.
Arthur noticed.
One night, after the children were asleep, he found me sitting in the library.
"Isabella."
I looked up.
"Yes?"
He sat across from me.
"Michael's been difficult."
I smiled sadly.
"He's grieving."
Arthur nodded.
"I know."
I closed my book.
"He doesn't owe me affection."
Arthur studied me.
"You've been patient."
I shrugged.
"I'm trying."
He smiled faintly.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he said quietly, "You don't have to stay."
I looked at him.
He continued.
"Your father can't force you back. The debt is being handled. You can build a life anywhere you want."
My chest tightened.
I looked down.
"I know."
Arthur waited.
Then asked, "Do you want to leave?"
I considered the question.
Three weeks earlier, I would have said yes.
I had wanted distance.
Freedom.
A chance to disappear.
But now...
I thought about Lily.
Thomas.
Sophia.
The way Arthur listened when I spoke.
The way Rosa made sure I ate breakfast.
The way the house felt alive.
I looked at him.
"No."
Arthur's expression softened.
I continued.
"Not yet."
He nodded.
"Then stay."
I smiled.
"Thank you."
He leaned back.
"Isabella, you don't need to thank me every time."
I laughed softly.
"Old habit."
He smiled.
"Then we'll work on it."
For a moment, our eyes met.
Something shifted.
A warmth I hadn't expected.
I looked away first.
Arthur didn't push.
He never did.
That was one of the things I was beginning to love about him.
Love.
The word startled me.
I looked down at my book.
Was that what this was becoming?
I didn't know.
And I wasn't ready to say it aloud.
Two days later, Michael came home from school furious.
He slammed the front door.
Threw his backpack onto the floor.
And stormed toward the stairs.
Arthur was away at a meeting.
Rosa was in the kitchen.
I stepped into the hallway.
"Michael?"
He stopped.
"What?"
I took a breath.
"Are you okay?"
He laughed bitterly.
"Do I look okay?"
I hesitated.
"No."
He stared at me.
Then said, "Then stop asking stupid questions."
The words stung.
I nodded.
"All right."
I stepped aside.
He started toward the stairs.
Then stopped.
For a moment, he stood with his back to me.
Then he said quietly, "They were talking about Mom."
My chest tightened.
I turned.
"Who?"
He looked over his shoulder.
"Some guys at school."
I waited.
He continued.
"They said she died because Dad was involved with dangerous people."
I swallowed.
Michael's jaw tightened.
"They said she was collateral damage."
My heart broke.
I stepped closer.
"Michael."
He looked at me.
His eyes were filled with tears.
"They said Dad got her killed."
I felt cold.
For a moment, I didn't know what to say.
Then I answered honestly.
"I don't know everything that happened."
He stared at me.
I continued.
"But I know your father loved your mother."
His expression changed.
I smiled sadly.
"And I know he loves you."
Michael looked away.
For a moment, he seemed younger than sixteen.
Then he whispered, "Sometimes I hate him."
I nodded.
"That's a difficult feeling."
He looked at me.
I continued.
"You can love someone and still be angry with them."
His eyes filled.
He looked down.
Then whispered, "I miss her."
My throat tightened.
"I know."
He began crying.
Not loudly.
Just silently.
His shoulders shaking.
I stood still.
I didn't reach for him.
Didn't tell him to stop.
Didn't try to replace the comfort his mother would have given him.
I simply waited.
After a moment, he looked at me.
"Can you not tell Dad?"
I hesitated.
Then answered carefully.
"I won't repeat this conversation just to embarrass you."
He nodded.
"But if I'm worried about your safety, I'll need to get help."
He looked at me.
Then nodded again.
"Okay."
I smiled.
"Okay."
He wiped his eyes.
Then walked upstairs.
For the first time, he didn't slam the door.
That evening, Arthur came home looking exhausted.
I met him in the kitchen.
"Long day?"
He nodded.
"Very."
I poured him coffee.
He smiled.
"Thank you."
I hesitated.
Then said, "Arthur."
He looked up.
"Yes?"
"Michael had a difficult day."
His expression changed.
"What happened?"
I took a breath.
"Some boys at school were talking about Catherine."
Arthur closed his eyes.
I continued.
"He was upset."
Arthur nodded slowly.
"Did he say anything else?"
I hesitated.
Then shook my head.
"That's his story to tell."
Arthur looked at me.
For a moment, he seemed surprised.
Then he nodded.
"You're right."
I smiled faintly.
He looked down at his coffee.
Then whispered, "I don't know how to help him."
My heart tightened.
I sat beside him.
"Maybe you don't have to fix everything."
He looked at me.
I continued.
"Maybe he just needs to know you can hear how angry he is."
Arthur swallowed.
For a moment, he looked like a man carrying the weight of the world.
Then he whispered, "I miss her too."
I took his hand.
He looked at me.
I smiled sadly.
"I know."
He squeezed my fingers.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he whispered, "Thank you for being here."
I looked at him.
"Arthur."
He smiled faintly.
"What?"
I took a breath.
"I'm glad I'm here."
His expression softened.
And for the first time, I knew the feeling between us was no longer just gratitude.
It was something deeper.
Something neither of us had planned.
Then the past returned.
One morning, Arthur received a call from his security chief.
His expression changed.
He listened.
Then said quietly, "Bring him in."
I looked up.
"What happened?"
Arthur hesitated.
Then said, "Your father."
My stomach tightened.
"What about him?"
Arthur looked at me.
"He's been asking questions about Catherine's death."
I froze.
"What?"
Arthur's expression hardened.
"He claims he has information."
My heart pounded.
"Information about what?"
Arthur looked toward the window.
Then said quietly, "The bombing."
I stared at him.
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
My father.
The man who had tried to sell me.
The man who had spent my life treating me like property.
Now claiming to know something about the death of Arthur's wife.
I felt sick.
"Why would he know anything?"
Arthur looked at me.
"That's what I intend to find out."
Later that afternoon, Richard Bennett arrived at the estate.
He looked thinner.
Nervous.
His expensive suit was wrinkled.
When he saw me, his expression changed.
"Isabella."
I stood beside Arthur.
"Father."
He smiled weakly.
"You look well."
I stared at him.
"Why are you here?"
His smile faded.
He looked at Arthur.
"I need to speak with you."
Arthur's expression remained calm.
"Then speak."
Richard swallowed.
"Privately."
Arthur looked at me.
I shook my head.
"No."
My father frowned.
"Isabella, this is business."
I stared at him.
"You made my life business."
Silence.
I continued.
"If you have something to say about Catherine Costa, you can say it in front of me."
Richard looked away.
Arthur nodded.
"She's staying."
My father swallowed.
Then sat.
For a moment, he stared at his hands.
Finally, he said, "I know who arranged the bombing."
Arthur went completely still.
My heart pounded.
Richard continued.
"And if you want the truth, you're going to have to help me."
Arthur's eyes darkened.
"Help you with what?"
My father looked at me.
Then back at Arthur.
"Clear my debt."
I felt sick.
Of course.
Even now.
Even with a dead woman and four grieving children involved.
My father was trying to bargain.
Arthur leaned forward.
"Richard."
My father swallowed.
"If you're lying, you'll regret wasting my time."
Richard nodded quickly.
"I'm not."
Arthur's voice remained calm.
"Then start talking."
My father took a breath.
And said a name.
"Carmine Romano."
The room went silent.
I stared at him.
The same man who had wanted to marry me for an heir.
The same man whose debt had nearly destroyed my life.
Arthur's expression changed.
For the first time, I saw genuine shock.
Because Carmine Romano wasn't just another crime boss.
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He had been one of Arthur's oldest allies.
And if my father was telling the truth, the man Arthur had trusted for years was the one who had taken his wife away.
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