Chapter 74: He’s Obsessed With Her

"He doesn’t love her." Isabella’s voice was sharp. "He’s obsessed with her. There’s a difference."

"Is there?" Enzo met her eyes. "Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like love. He chose her over everything....you, the alliance, his father’s approval. He told me he’s going to marry her."

Isabella’s face went pale. "He said that?"

"To my face. While he had me pinned to the wall." Enzo took a long drink. "It’s over, Isabella. Whatever you thought you had with him, whatever future you imagined....it’s gone. She won."

"No." Isabella stood, pacing. "No, she hasn’t won. She’s just... temporary. A phase. He’ll realize his mistake and come back to what makes sense."

"He won’t."

"How do you know?"

"Because I saw his face when he talked about her." Enzo’s voice was raw. "I’ve never seen him look like that. Like she’s oxygen and he can’t breathe without her. Like he’d burn the entire world down if it meant keeping her safe." He laughed, hollow. "That’s not obsession. That’s love. Real love. The kind that doesn’t fade."

Isabella stopped pacing, her back to him.

"I was nine years old when our fathers made the arrangement," she said quietly. "Nine. And from that moment, my entire life has been about becoming worthy of being his wife. Every lesson. Every training session. Every language I learned, every skill I mastered, all of it was for him." She turned, and Enzo saw tears in her eyes. "And now you’re telling me it was all for nothing? That some random woman walked into his life and stole twenty-three years of my life?"

"Yes," Enzo said gently. "That’s exactly what I’m telling you."

A tear slid down her cheek.

Enzo had never seen Isabella cry. Not once. Not when her mother died. Not when Lorenzo put her through brutal training. Not ever.

He stood, crossed to her, pulled her into his arms.

She stiffened for a moment, then collapsed against him, her face pressed to his chest.

"I hate her," Isabella whispered. "I hate that she gets to have him. That she gets everything I was promised. That she....." Her voice broke. "That he looks at her the way I always wanted him to look at me."

Enzo held her, his own heart breaking.

Because he understood.

God, he understood.

"I know," he murmured into her hair. "I know exactly how that feels."

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him. "What do you mean?"

This was it. The moment he’d been avoiding for eight years.

He could lie. Deflect. Keep his pathetic secret buried.

Or he could be honest.

For once in his fucking life, he could be honest.

"I’m in love with you," he said quietly. "Have been since I was fifteen and you came to visit Antonio’s estate. You walked into that room in a white dress, and I forgot how to breathe." He smiled, sad and broken. "And I’ve been suffocating ever since."

Isabella stared at him, stunned.

"Enzo..."

"I know you don’t feel the same. I know you’re in love with Dimitri. I’ve always known." His thumb brushed away her tears. "But I wanted you to understand. I know what it’s like to love someone who’ll never love you back. To watch them choose someone else. To have to smile and pretend it doesn’t kill you every single day."

"Why didn’t you ever say anything?"

"Because what would be the point? You were promised to my brother. You’d made it clear you wanted him. And I....." He laughed bitterly. "I’m just Enzo. The disappointing son. The brother who lives in Dimitri’s shadow. Why would you want me when you could have him?"

"Enzo...."

"It’s okay." He stepped back, releasing her. "I’m not telling you this because I expect anything. I just....you should know that someone sees you. Really sees you. Not the perfect mafia princess. Not the alliance. Just... you. And thinks you’re extraordinary."

Isabella’s hand came up to touch his face, her eyes searching his.

"I don’t know what to say."

"You don’t have to say anything." He turned toward the door. "I should go. This was...."

"Stay."

He froze.

"Please," Isabella said softly. "Don’t leave. I don’t want to be alone tonight."

Enzo turned back.

She stood there, vulnerable in a way he’d never seen her, tears still wet on her cheeks.

"Isabella...."

"I’m not offering you what you want," she said honestly. "I can’t. I’m still...." She swallowed. "I’m still in love with Dimitri. That doesn’t just go away because he chose someone else."

"I know."

"But I also don’t want to be alone. And you understand. You’re the only one who understands what this feels like." She took a breath. "So stay. Just for tonight. As friends. As... fellow casualties."

Fellow casualties.

They were both casualties of Dimitri’s choices. Of loving people who would never love them back.

"Alright," Enzo said quietly. "I’ll stay."

They sat on the sofa, not touching, just existing in shared misery.

"What are we going to do?" Isabella asked after a long silence.

"What do you mean?"

"About them. About Dimitri and Eve." She looked at him. "Antonio wants you to drive a wedge between them. My father wants me to seduce Dimitri back. But neither of those things will work, will they?"

"No," Enzo admitted. "They won’t. He’s too far gone. And she’s...." He paused. "She’s stronger than we gave her credit for. She’s not going to break easily."

"So we just... give up? Accept it?"

Enzo was quiet for a long moment.

Antonio’s voice echoed in his head: Don’t disappoint me again.

He thought of Dimitri’s hand around his throat: Get out of my city.

He thought of a lifetime of being second-best. Of never measuring up. Of watching his brother have everything while he had nothing.

"No," he said finally. "We don’t give up. But we don’t play Antonio’s game either. We play our own."

"What does that mean?"

"It means...." Enzo turned to face her. "What if instead of trying to break them apart, we use them to break free?"

Isabella’s eyes narrowed. "Explain."

"Think about it. Dimitri has everything, the empire, the power, the woman he loves. But he also has all the responsibility. All the pressure. All the expectations." Enzo leaned forward. "What if we built our own empire? Something separate from Antonio. Separate from Lorenzo. Separate from Dimitri."

"You’re talking about going independent."

"Yes."

"That’s insane. Our fathers would never allow it."

"Our fathers don’t own us." Enzo’s voice was hard. "We’ve spent our entire lives trying to please them. Trying to be worthy. Trying to live up to impossible standards." He met her eyes. "When does it end, Isabella? When do we get to choose our own lives?"

She stared at him, and he could see the wheels turning in her mind.

"If we tried that, they’d see it as betrayal. They’d come after us."