Sofia's POV:

A few hours later.

The moment I saw the tears streaming down Isabella's face, I knew I had her. She sat on the edge of the couch, her body trembling as she tried to process what she had just seen, what she thought had happened. Every second of that video—Antonio's hands on me, our bodies intertwined—was playing over and over again in her mind, breaking her apart piece by piece. Exactly as I had planned.

Isabella Russo.

The delicate daughter of Giovanni Russo and the woman Antonio had somehow foolishly fallen in love with. To me, she had always been a problem, a beautiful roadblock standing between Antonio and everything I wanted. For months, I'd watched her get close to him, smiling, laughing, stealing his attention and affection while I remained in the shadows. I had worked my way into his life with strategy and precision, earned his trust, only to watch him give everything to her so easily.

But now, all that was going to change. Today, I had taken control. Isabella was about to find out just how dangerous it was to stand between me and the man I wanted.

I took a slow, deliberate breath as I looked at her, my expression carefully crafted into a mask of sympathy. I had to be careful, had to play this right. It was all about execution. One wrong move, one moment where I slipped up, and the entire plan could crumble. But if I played my cards right, this would be the final blow that would shatter her love for Antonio.

"Isabella," I began, my voice soft, laced with the perfect blend of concern and sadness. "I'm so sorry you had to see that. I can't even imagine how much it hurt, but you needed to know the truth."

She was staring at the floor, her breath ragged, her hands gripping the edge of the couch like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Her face was pale, the shock of betrayal written in every line, every tear that fell down her cheeks.

When she didn't respond, I moved closer, sitting down on the couch next to her, though keeping enough distance to make it seem like I respected her space. "I didn't want to be the one to show you, but I couldn't keep it hidden any longer. You deserve better than this. You deserve the truth."

She looked up at me then, her red, swollen eyes filled with confusion and pain. I could see the way her mind was racing, trying to understand how everything could have fallen apart so quickly. It was almost pitiful, how naive she was, how much faith she had put into Antonio.

"How long?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "How long has this been going on?"

The question hit me like a wave of opportunity. I could spin this any way I wanted. The lie needed to be clean, simple, believable enough to sever her connection to Antonio without making her suspicious of me.

I looked down, as if struggling with the weight of the truth I was about to reveal. "It's been... a few months." I sighed, letting my shoulders slump as if I were carrying a heavy burden. "At first, I thought it was just him being... close. You know how Antonio can be—charming, persuasive, always in control. I thought he just trusted me as his bodyguard, as someone who would protect him. But then... things started to change."

Isabella's brow furrowed, her confusion deepening. I could see the wheels turning in her mind, trying to make sense of what I was saying.

"At first, I didn't know how to stop it," I continued, my voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "He was... persistent. I never wanted to get involved with him that way. I respected you. I respected your relationship. But Antonio... he—" I hesitated, knowing this was the moment I needed to land the final blow. I met her eyes, letting the fake vulnerability fill my gaze. "He didn't give me a choice."

Isabella blinked, her eyes widening as the words sank in. Her mouth parted slightly, shock and disbelief flickering across her face.

"I tried to push him away," I added quickly, leaning forward as if confiding in her. "I tried so many times, but he's Antonio. You know how he can be. When he wants something, he takes it. No matter what anyone says. I thought I could handle it, but I... I couldn't."

Her hand flew to her mouth, muffling a sob as the reality of what I was suggesting hit her. She shook her head, tears streaming down her face once again.

"No, no, no..." she muttered, her voice shaking. "Antonio wouldn't... he wouldn't do that. He's not... he's not like that."

I reached out, gently placing my hand on hers. "I didn't want to believe it either. I fought it. I told myself that maybe I was imagining it, that I had somehow misunderstood his intentions. But... the video... you saw it yourself. You saw how he was with me."

She flinched at the mention of the video, as though the memory of what she had witnessed was too painful to bear. Her shoulders shook as she let out a broken sob, and I felt a surge of satisfaction knowing that she was starting to believe me.

"I never wanted this," I whispered, my voice breaking just enough to sound convincing. "I never wanted to hurt you, Isabella. But I had to show you the truth. I couldn't let him keep lying to you like this."

Her head snapped up, her tear-filled eyes locking onto mine. "You... you sent me the video?"

I nodded slowly, my face carefully arranged to show a mixture of regret and resolve. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how else to make you see. You deserve better than to be lied to, to be kept in the dark."

She stared at me, her expression a mix of confusion and disbelief. I could see her struggling to process everything, the lies swirling in her mind, colliding with her love for Antonio and the horror of what she thought had happened.

"But... why?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

This was the critical moment. If I fumbled here, she would see through me. I had to make my answer perfect.

"Because I didn't know how to," I replied, my voice trembling with emotion. "I was scared. Scared of what would happen if Antonio found out that I told you. You know how powerful he is, how dangerous. I didn't know if he would come after me if I exposed him. I thought... I thought maybe if I kept quiet, he would eventually stop. That maybe he would realize what he was doing was wrong."

Her breath hitched, her chest heaving with the weight of her grief. "I can't believe this. I can't believe he would do this."

I squeezed her hand gently, leaning closer, my voice soft and full of false compassion. "I know it's hard to accept. But you have to see him for what he really is. He's not the man you fell in love with. He's changed, Isabella. He's not who you think he is."

She let out a choked sob, burying her face in her hands as her entire world crumbled around her. I could see the moment she began to let go of Antonio, the moment the love she had for him started to wither under the weight of the lies I had planted.

This was it. The beginning of the end for them.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered again, knowing full well that my words weren't an apology at all. "I wish things could have been different."

Isabella cried harder, her sobs wracking her body as she clutched her head in her hands. I sat there beside her, a silent spectator to the destruction I had orchestrated, feeling nothing but satisfaction as her heart broke.

I had done it. I had planted the seeds of doubt, of betrayal, of loss. Isabella would never look at Antonio the same way again. She would never trust him, never love him the way she once had.

And as she fell apart in front of me, I knew that this was just the beginning. Antonio would pay for choosing her over me, for thinking that I was just another pawn in his life. He had underestimated me. They all had.

But I wasn't done yet. No, this was only the first step in my plan. Isabella might be broken now, but soon, Antonio would be too.

Because I wasn't going to stop until I had everything I wanted.

Antonio. The Bianchi empire. All of it.

Antonio's POV:

Darkness swirled around me, thick and suffocating, like a heavy fog pressing down on my chest. There was a ringing in my ears, a dull hum that seemed to reverberate through my skull. I tried to open my eyes, but it felt like they were glued shut. My head throbbed, each pulse of pain sharper than the last, and my thoughts were tangled, fragmented. I couldn't piece together what had happened, where I was, or how I'd ended up here.

It felt like I was drifting between worlds, caught in a liminal space where reality and dreams blurred into one. Every time I tried to move, my body resisted, heavy and sluggish, as if the air itself had turned into a thick sludge. I could feel the faint edges of awareness tugging at me, trying to pull me back to the surface, but I couldn't grab hold.

Then, slowly, the darkness began to recede, the fog lifting just enough for me to open my eyes. The light in the room was dim, but it felt blinding after the inky blackness. I blinked against the glare, trying to adjust, trying to make sense of where I was. My vision was blurry, and for a moment, I couldn't recognize my surroundings.

I was in my study. The large mahogany desk, the rows of books lining the shelves, the familiar scent of whiskey and old leather—everything came rushing back in a wave of disorientation and confusion.

But something was wrong. My body felt strange, as if it wasn't entirely my own. I tried to sit up, but my limbs were unresponsive, weak, and sluggish. Panic began to creep in, a sharp edge of fear cutting through the haze in my mind. I ran my hands over my face, trying to shake off the strange fog that still clouded my senses.

What the hell had happened?

I forced myself to focus, to retrace my steps and remember how I had ended up here. It had been late. I had been working on something—business, no doubt—something important, but the details were hazy. 

And then... Sofia. 

I remembered her knocking on my door, walking into the room with that cool, confident demeanor. She had said something about me needing to relax, needing to take a break.The memory was like a sharp stab to my gut. 

I'd had a drink, hadn't I?

Yes, I had poured myself a glass of whiskey, and she'd stood beside me, offering quiet conversation. I could see her face now, her dark eyes watching me, and I remembered thinking how close she was standing. 

Too close.

My mouth went dry as fragments of the night began piecing themselves together. The drink. She had brought me another glass. That much I was certain of. I had been feeling off before the drink even hit my lips—my body sluggish, my thoughts slipping through my fingers like sand.

And then... nothing. 

Darkness.

My hand flew to my head, gripping my temples as the realization began to dawn on me, cold and brutal. 

Sofia had drugged me.

 That was the only explanation that made sense. Whatever was in that drink had clouded my mind, taken control of my body, and dragged me into the oblivion I was just now clawing my way out of.

I gritted my teeth, fighting back a surge of anger and disgust. 

How could I have let this happen? 

I was always so careful, always one step ahead. No one got close to me unless I allowed it. No one.

 But Sofia—she had played her cards right. She had wormed her way into my inner circle, built trust, earned her place, only to use it against me.

I tried to stand, but my legs were still too weak, my muscles trembling under the strain. I felt like I had been underwater for hours, struggling to breathe. My heart raced, not just from the physical strain, but from the sheer fury building inside me. 

Sofia had betrayed me. She had crossed a line she would regret.

As I pushed myself up from the couch, a flash of another memory hit me like a punch to the gut. Sofia leaning in, her lips brushing against mine, her body pressed too close. The anger surged, hot and blinding. I could see her face now, could feel her hands on me, touching me in ways I hadn't consented to.

Had that really happened? Was it a distorted memory, or had she taken it further?

A sickening sensation churned in my stomach. Had Sofia used that moment of vulnerability to manipulate me, to cross a boundary that was never hers to cross? The thought sent waves of nausea rolling through me, and I staggered toward the desk, gripping the edge of it to steady myself.

I felt violated—by someone I had trusted enough to allow into my personal guard. My personal space.

 My life.

Sofia had always been intense, always too focused on me, but I had pushed those feelings aside, thinking she was just trying to prove herself in a world dominated by men. I had underestimated her. Gravely.

What was she after? 

Power? 

Control? 

Did she think that if she could get me in a compromised state, she could gain some leverage over me? 

My mind raced with questions, trying to make sense of her motives, of how long she had been planning this. Every memory of her now felt tainted, every conversation, every interaction now viewed through the lens of betrayal.

A sudden thought struck me, and I swore under my breath. 

Isabella. 

My mind immediately went to her, and a fresh wave of panic washed over me. What would happen if Isabella found out about this? What would she think?

She would be hurt. Devastated. And the worst part was, I didn't know how to explain it to her. How could I tell her that I had been drugged, manipulated by someone I had allowed to get too close? She wouldn't understand, and I couldn't blame her for that.

I knew one thing for sure: I had to get rid of Sofia. She was a threat, not just to me but to everything I had built. I couldn't afford to have someone like her inside my circle, someone who had clearly crossed a line. But I needed to handle this carefully. Sofia was smart. She wouldn't just back down without a fight.

I had to confront her, find out what she wanted, and then eliminate the problem before it spiraled even further out of control. But I couldn't do it alone, not in this state. I needed time to recover, to gather my strength and my thoughts.

The door to my study creaked open, and I spun around, my hand instinctively reaching for the gun holstered at my side. But it wasn't Sofia. It was Enzo.

"Boss," he said, his voice cautious, eyes scanning my appearance with concern. "You look like hell. What the hell happened?"

I swallowed hard, still feeling the remnants of the drug in my system. "Get Sofia. Now."

Enzo's eyes flickered with confusion but he didn't question me. "I'll find her."

As he turned to leave, I clenched my jaw, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions raging inside me. I had no idea what Sofia's endgame was, but I was going to find out. And when I did, she would regret ever thinking she could cross me.

As the door clicked shut behind Enzo, I stumbled back to the chair, collapsing into it, my mind racing faster than my heart. Whatever Sofia was planning, it ended tonight. I would ensure that.

But first, I needed to tell Isabella. And I had no idea how.