Chapter 47: What does he get?
"It’s nice that you finally decided to show up!" Elisa opened her mouth to speak, her voice sharp and bitter even as Isadora continued forward until she came to a stop at the foot of the bed. The air in the hospital room was heavy, a faint sterile scent clinging to everything — the white curtains, the dull beeping of machines, the half-empty vase of flowers sitting neglected by the window.
Her gaze remained on her sister even as she did her best not to look down at her bandaged hands, afraid that the sight of them would make the words in her throat turn to dust. For a brief moment, she could barely recognize Elisa — her skin was pale, her hair unkempt, her eyes tired and hollow yet still carrying the faint spark of defiance that had always defined her.
"How are you?" Isadora asked, almost regretting the question the instant it left her lips when she noticed the extremely sober look that flashed across Elisa’s face. There was no warmth there, no relief, only pain — quiet, simmering pain that no amount of sympathy could soften.
"What does it look like?" Elisa responded, raising her hands slightly, the movement slow and deliberate as a look of pain embedded deep in her gaze surfaced. "I should be happy that they didn’t feel the need to assault my body!" she said, her tone flat but trembling, even as Isadora stood there, not sure what to say or do.
Her father didn’t speak — his head lowered slightly, his fingers gripping the edge of the chair beside him. Her stepmother, surprisingly, didn’t see the need to interject either, though Isadora could feel her sharp gaze flickering between them like a blade waiting to cut. Isadora opened her mouth again, trying to gather words that might not sound as hollow as they felt.
"Mr. Bellini is already looking for the people behind it," Isadora told her gently, the words quiet but firm, as if trying to convince herself that some form of justice still existed.
Elisa simply glanced away, her lips twitching into a bitter line as she looked down at her fingers, or what was left of them. "Like that would bring my fingers back," Elisa said, her voice breaking halfway through the sentence. Isadora found it difficult to respond, her throat tightening painfully. The room fell silent for a moment before her father finally decided to speak.
"Your sister will pay for your hospital bills though, and therapy, so you don’t have to worry," Luca spoke, his voice low, as though guilt pressed down on every word.
Elisa scoffed loudly, the sound echoing off the walls, as she glanced at each and every one of them. "Who else? Your shares are gone, Father, and Dora is the one with a billionaire husband!" she responded, her tone laced with entitlement and hurt, a mix that made Isadora’s chest ache. She didn’t like the tone, but she kept quiet, understanding that she was not the one lying on the bed, that her sister’s anger was born from pain.
That silence didn’t last long. Her stepmother opened her mouth, the venom already forming before the words left her lips. "Of course! She should be the one that should have been kidnapped, not you! She’s the one that decided to run off!"
Isadora’s jaw tightened as she silently seethed within her, beyond annoyed but still refusing to make a fuss. Her nails dug into her palm as she swallowed the words she wanted to say. ’Elisa is the one that had her toes and fingers cut off, not me,’ she reminded herself, forcing herself to breathe, insisting on allowing peace to reign.
But it soon became clear that it wasn’t the kind of peace that could be maintained by her silence.
"What if they come after you again? You’re clearly not safe here! You should move your sister into the same estate you live in!" Maria said suddenly, her voice rising slightly as she spoke, her tone falsely concerned.
Isadora, who had been quiet all this while, suddenly found the need to speak. "What does that have to do with—"
"Your sister would be safer in your own mansion, recovering there, than here!" Maria continued, cutting her off. She couldn’t even hide her intentions if she tried. It was painfully clear that she wanted Elisa to get closer to Dante — something she had already hinted at in the most desperate ways.
"Stop it, Mother! Do you think a billionaire like that would be interested in a cripple like me?" Elisa suddenly spoke up, her voice breaking as she stared down at her lap, her shoulders trembling slightly. Her gaze was fixed on the ground, a deep, hollow sigh escaping her lips that seemed to come from the very depths of her chest.
At this point, Isadora couldn’t help but move closer to comfort her. She realized that Elisa had lost much more than any human should — not just her fingers, but a piece of herself, her pride, her freedom. If she could, she would have even allowed her to live in the estate, but she knew Dante would never agree to such a thing.
Slowly, she reached out and tapped her sister lightly on the shoulder, a gentle, comforting gesture. "If I knew Dante would agree, I would have asked him," she said softly, ignoring whatever her stepmother had previously said.
"But I’ll ask him to double your security detail," she added, her tone quiet but sincere. Elisa simply nodded, saying nothing more as she sank deeper into her pillow, her eyes fluttering closed.
She looked okay — calm, composed — but a deeper look revealed the truth: there were darker emotions hiding beneath that quiet exterior. Anger, grief, humiliation, all mixing into a silence that was too heavy for anyone to bear.
Still, Isadora had no intention of pushing further. She simply settled quietly into the seat near the bed, folding her hands neatly in her lap as she watched Elisa drift slowly into sleep. The sound of her sister’s breathing eventually steadied, filling the tense room with a fragile sense of peace.
It wasn’t until a while later that Isadora suddenly heard her father speak to her from behind in a low whisper, careful not to wake Elisa. "Would you be able to ask Dante if he could help me get some shares from my previous company?" Luca asked, not wanting to directly ask for money. His tone carried a mix of pride and pleading that made Isadora’s chest tighten further.
Isadora simply nodded her head even as she maintained a largely neutral expression on her face. "Until I’m married to him there’s only so many things I can ask for," she said evenly, her voice calm, though her thoughts felt anything but.
But she had barely responded to her father when her stepmother spoke up, her voice much lower and more restrained than before, though the edge of cunning still laced every syllable.
"What exactly does he get? I’m not sure you’ve told your father what you’re giving him?" Maria asked, her tone sly, as if she were trying to peel back layers of a secret. Luca turned slightly toward her, curiosity flickering across his features, but Isadora didn’t even glance in her direction. Her eyes remained on Elisa, who was lying still on the bed, fast asleep.
She tried not to think about it — but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t stop herself from blaming her father, even just a little, for the situation they all found themselves in. She loved him, yes, but she also blamed him — for his weakness, for the choices that led them here.
"What else does a man want if not sex?" Isadora asked finally, her voice low and almost expressionless.
Her stepmother was already shaking her head, clearly finding it impossible to believe that a man like Dante — powerful, wealthy, calculating — would decide to help her merely for that.
"I don’t believe you!" Maria said sharply, her tone dropping in disbelief, clearly fishing for more information, more scandal, something to twist.
Isadora slowly released a deep sigh, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips as she continued to silently stare at Elisa’s resting form before she opened her mouth to speak again. "Do you think there’s something else I have that he would be interested in?" she asked Maria, her tone deliberately calm, masking the simmering irritation underneath.
It was the last thing she intended to do — to tell her stepmother anything real. She knew Maria too well. She turned slightly to look at her, watching as her stepmother’s eyes darted away, unwilling to hold her gaze.
"How would we know," Maria muttered, dragging Luca — Dora’s father — into it, "...if you don’t tell us!"
But Isadora simply shook her head, leaning back as she settled more comfortably into her chair. There was no point in saying more.
An hour went by, the ticking clock marking every second as silence slowly filled the room again. When it became clear that Elisa wasn’t going to wake up anytime soon, Isadora finally rose to her feet. She murmured a quiet goodbye to them both before turning to leave, the soft sound of her footsteps echoing down the hallway as she exited.
Outside, the cool night air felt heavy but freeing. She walked to the car that waited at the entrance, Ettore already holding the door open for her. As she stepped inside and the car began its slow drive back to the mansion, Isadora leaned her head lightly against the window, closing her eyes for a moment.
For her, the day had gone much better than she expected — mostly because her expectations had been completely abysmal. So she wasn’t surprised when, upon returning to the estate, she met Guila, who informed her that Dante was already waiting for her.
