The next week was a masterclass in deceit. I had become a specter in my own life, an emptiness in the form of a woman who was herself a ghost. I executed my role to perfection, speaking only when engaged, my voice soft and melancholic. While Sofia taught me through the day, I no longer argued or refused to digress into twisted Moretti history; I absorbed it with a twilight of sorrow that she mistook for acceptance. The elegant and sober clothes Dante picked for me helped to mold me into the same image that adorned the portrait. The fire of rebellion lay banked deep within me, hidden from view by the barrier of ice I had painstakingly created. The only other sacred time was my diary, which I read every night, absorbing Isabella's fears, her secrets, and her very voice for the strength I drew on in my own performance.
Dante witnessed this transformation at a distance. I could feel his eyes burning into me, scrutinizing me during those silent suspenseful dinners. He had learned very well to be in control, and he wanted to see whether my compliance was genuine. I knew there was going to be a test. The silence was a coiling serpent, poised to strike.
On a Thursday evening, trouble noticed me. He entered my room without knocking, as usual. I was sitting by the window staring out at the city lights, perfecting my image as a picture of tragic listlessness. In his grip was a long flat black-silk-wrapped box.
"Put it on your bed," he said. "Open it."
My heart began thudding. This was it. I went over to the bed, ever so slowly, forcing my hands to be steady as I untied the ribbon and lifted the lid to reveal a breathtaking necklace of sapphires and diamonds intricately worked into the form of beautiful cascading leaves, lying nestled on black velvet. An antique piece, beautiful and unattainably expensive, enough to ransom a queen.
"It was hers," Dante said, watching my face for a sign. "My father gave it to her on their tenth anniversary."
This was the test. I had to react not as Alessia, who would be horrified by such a gift, but as Isabella, for whom it would stir a memory. I laid my fingers on the cold stones, recalling a passage in the diary where Isabella said the necklace felt as heavy and cold as her husband's love.
"It was always so cold when I first put it on," I whispered without looking at him, my voice filled with faraway sorrowful reminiscence. I looked up at him, forced to give a sad, ghost smile. "Thank you. I had almost forgotten."
His dark eyes slid into a narrowed gaze, searching mine. I held his gaze, pouring out the heavy sadness of the woman who had lived a hundred tragic lives. I saw a flicker of a change in his expression when the tension I hadn't realized he was holding began to shift. I passed. My performance, inspired by the ghost herself, had been flawless.
With growing conviction came growing boldness. He moved closer, overwhelming the room with his presence. "Your compliance is... noted," he said, as if appraising a subordinate's performance. "And obedience deserves a reward."
I maintained an even expression, my heart hammering against my ribs.
He had continued, smooth as polished stone. "You mentioned to Sofia that you dreamt of the coast. You lost the scent of jasmine."
My breath constricted in my throat. My gamble. He had taken my bait.
"The city air is stifling," he stated. "And this penthouse, for all its comforts, is a cage." He let the silence stretch; my own destruction granted him satisfaction in his power over me. "Pack a bag. We leave tomorrow. The sea air might do you some good."
"Leave?" I whispered, pretending to be confused. "Where are we going?"
He allowed himself a small, chilling smile, the smile of a master rewarding his perfectly trained pet.
"To the coastal estate," he said, his eyes glinting with a peculiar possessiveness. "We will spend the weekend. It's time you went home, Isabella."
I could only nod at him, for my mind was an equally furious roar of terrifying exultation and terror. My gamble had worked. He was going to take me precisely to the place where my salvation might be hidden. He was leading me to the lion's den, thinking I was a lamb bound for slaughter, obliviously bringing in the serpent into his own house.