Chapter 89: Enzo Is Antony’s Spare

The words hit like a physical blow.

"I’m doing everything I can..."

"You’re doing everything WRONG."

Lorenzo’s voice turned deadly quiet. "Let me be very clear, daughter. The Russo family does not accept failure. We do not settle for second place. And we certainly don’t form pathetic alliances with weak men because we couldn’t secure the strong ones."

"Enzo isn’t weak...."

"Enzo is Antonio’s spare. A boy who’s spent his entire life in his brother’s shadow. And you, the woman groomed since childhood to stand beside the Devil himself have lowered yourself to partnering with him." A pause. "Your mother warned me this would happen. That you didn’t have the spine for this. I should have listened."

Isabella’s throat tightened. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to FIX THIS. I want you to get Dimitri back. I don’t care if he’s with that woman. I don’t care if he claims to love her. You were PROMISED to him. That engagement is sacred. And you will honor it."

"He won’t..."

"MAKE HIM." Lorenzo’s voice was absolute. "I don’t care how. Seduce him. Manipulate him. Remind him what he’s giving up. Show him that his little American princess is weak. Unworthy. Unsuitable for our world." His voice dropped to something even more dangerous. "Or I will handle this myself. And trust me, Isabella, you won’t like my methods."

The line went dead.

Isabella stood frozen, her father’s words echoing in her mind.

Get Dimitri back. Or I will handle this myself.

She knew what that meant.

Lorenzo would go after Eve directly. Violently and publicly.

And Dimitri would go to war.

A war the Russos might not survive.

Her phone buzzed again. A text this time.

From her mother. Sophia Russo.

Your father is angry. As am I. We didn’t raise you to accept defeat, Isabella. Dimitri Valentino is YOUR destiny. Not that girl’s. Fix this. Before we’re forced to fix it for you.

Isabella stared at the message, something cold settling in her chest.

Her entire life, she’d been working toward one goal. One purpose.

Being Dimitri’s wife.

And she’d failed.

But....

Her mind flashed back to the warehouse. To Dimitri standing there, powerful and controlled and absolutely magnetic.

To the way her heart had stuttered when he’d looked at her.

To the way she’d felt when he’d walked away....dismissed, irrelevant, forgotten.

She couldn’t let that stand.

Wouldn’t let that stand.

If her father wanted her to fix this, she’d fix it.

But not the way Lorenzo expected.

Not with brute force or open warfare.

No.

She’d be subtle. Strategic. Patient.

She’d play the long game.

And she’d start by making Eve Thorne look exactly like what she was...unsuitable for Dimitri’s world.

Isabella went inside, poured herself a drink, and sat down with her laptop.

First, she needed information.

Everything about Eve. Her routines. Her weaknesses. Her friends. Her company. Her relationship with Mike. Her insecurities.

Second, she needed opportunities.

Events. Functions. Situations where she could be near Dimitri. Where she could remind him of what they could have been. Where she could plant seeds of doubt about Eve.

Third, she needed accidents.

Small ones. Untraceable. Things that made Eve look weak or incompetent or dangerous to be around. Things that made Dimitri question whether she was really equipped to handle his world.

Isabella opened a secure messaging app, contacted someone she’d kept in reserve for exactly this kind of situation.

I need deep background on Eve Thorne. Everything. Childhood, college, marriage, divorce, friends, family, medical records, psychological profiles. Nothing is off limits.

The response came within minutes: Cost?

Name your price.

50K. Two weeks.

You have one week. I’ll pay double.

Done.

Isabella set down her phone, opened a new document on her laptop, and start writing out things she need to put in place, plans, encounters that would bring her closer to Dimitri without it looking like she made it all up.

Isabella read through the plan, refined it, encrypted it.

This wasn’t the plan of a desperate woman.

This was the plan of someone who’d been raised in this world. Who understood patience and strategy, and also The long game.

Dimitri thought he’d neutralized her by offering territories and boundaries.

He had no idea he’d just made her more dangerous.

Because now she had nothing left to lose.

Her father had made it clear, succeed or be disowned.

Her mother had made it clear, Dimitri or disgrace.

And Isabella herself had realized something tonight in that warehouse.

She didn’t just want Dimitri because she was supposed to.

She wanted him because watching him command that room, watching him control everything with barely a word, watching him walk out alone and unafraid...

It had reminded her why she’d fallen for him in the first place.

Not the boy her father had promised her to, But the man. The Devil. The most powerful, dangerous, captivating person she’d ever known.

And she would have him.

Even if she had to destroy Eve Thorne to do it.

Her phone buzzed. Enzo.

You okay? You seemed off when I left.

Isabella typed back: I’m fine. Just tired. Big day. Talk tomorrow?

Of course. Get some rest. We did good today, partner.

We did. Goodnight, Enzo.

She set down the phone, feeling a pang of guilt.

Enzo was a good man. A good partner. He deserved better than being used as a convenient cover while she pursued Dimitri.

But Isabella had learned long ago that in their world, sentiment was weakness.

And she couldn’t afford to be weak.

Not now.

Not when everything was at stake.

She opened another secure app, this one connected to a network of high-end event planners, socialites, and influencers.

Isabella Russo seeking invitations to exclusive events in the city. Particularly interested in charity galas, business functions, and private parties attended by Dimitri Valentino. Generous compensation for access.

Responses started flooding in within minutes.

By morning, she’d have a calendar full of opportunities.

Opportunities to be near Dimitri.

To remind him of what he was missing.

To slowly, carefully dismantle his relationship with Eve.

Isabella finished her drink, closed her laptop, and walked back to the balcony.

The city sprawled below her....Dimitri’s city, his empire, his kingdom.

And somewhere in that city, Eve Thorne slept beside him, completely unaware that she’d just become the target of someone who’d spent fourteen years preparing for war.

"Enjoy him while you can," Isabella whispered to the night. "Because he was mine first. And he’ll be mine again."

She pulled out her phone one more time, opened a notes app, and started writing.

Each item, occurrences was carefully crafted to seem like coincidence. Bad luck. Eve’s own inadequacy.

Nothing that could be traced back to Isabella.

By the time she finished, dawn was breaking over the city.

Isabella hadn’t slept.

But she felt more alive than she had in weeks.

Because she had a plan.

A purpose.

A war to win.

And unlike the open confrontation Dimitri had expected, this war would be fought in shadows.

With smiles and sympathy and subtle sabotage.

Until Eve Thorne was so broken, so isolated, so clearly unsuitable, That Dimitri would let her go himself.

Isabella smiled at the sunrise.

"Let the games begin," she whispered.