The Little Girl Warned Him Not to Take Another Bite

The Little Girl Warned Him Not to Take Another Bite

Part 2

Isabella’s smile was soft enough to appear innocent.

But Alessandro knew her too well.

For the briefest moment, something cold flashed across her face when she saw the untouched bread.

“You haven’t eaten?” she asked.

Alessandro leaned back in his chair, watching as she slowly crossed the room.

Emma immediately pressed herself against the back of his chair. Isabella noticed and gave the little girl a sweet smile.

Instead of comforting Emma, it made her clutch Rosie even tighter.

“I lost my appetite,” Alessandro replied. “You arrived just in time.”

Isabella stopped beside the table.

“For what?”

Alessandro pushed the plate toward her until the buttered bread sat directly in front of her.

“Breakfast.”

Her eyes dropped to the bread.

Her expression remained perfectly calm, but Alessandro noticed one tiny detail.

Her fingers tightened around the strap of her handbag.

“I already ate,” she said.

Alessandro gave her a faint smile.

“One bite.”

Isabella looked at him.

Then at Emma.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

“No.”

That single word changed the entire atmosphere.

Isabella slowly removed her gloves and placed them beside the plate.

“You seem very serious this morning.”

“I am.”

Emma’s breathing became shallow.

Isabella turned toward her and tilted her head.

“Did you tell Alessandro another one of your stories?”

Emma remained silent.

“Answer me, sweetheart.”

“Leave her alone,” Alessandro said.

Isabella’s eyes immediately snapped back toward him.

There had been a time when that look could make Alessandro forget every warning sign.

Isabella Bellini had a rare ability to make people feel special simply by allowing them into her world.

She had entered Alessandro’s life eighteen months earlier at a charity gala in Florence.

She had been wearing a black silk dress, laughing at something he had said when no one else would have dared.

She never chased him.

That was what made him chase her.

She had never appeared impressed by his family name, his wealth, or the international empire built by three generations of Romanos.

Alessandro had fallen for her because she seemed completely indifferent to everything other people wanted from him.

Now he wondered whether that indifference had simply been another carefully planned performance.

“Eat the bread, Isabella.”

Her lips curved into a faint smile.

“You’re ordering me to eat?”

“I’m asking you.”

“No, you aren’t.”

Alessandro’s expression hardened.

“No,” he admitted. “I’m not.”

Silence stretched between them.

Then Isabella gave a quiet laugh.

“This is absurd.”

She reached toward the bread.

Emma suddenly gasped.

Isabella’s fingertips stopped just above the crust.

“What?” Isabella asked.

Emma’s lower lip trembled.

“Nothing.”

“No, Emma,” Isabella said softly. “You obviously have something to say.”

Alessandro watched them both.

Something about the moment bothered him.

It wasn’t simply that Isabella had hesitated.

It was the way she seemed to be waiting for Emma to speak first.

“Eat it,” Emma whispered.

Isabella stared at her.

Then she laughed again.

This time, there was no warmth in the sound.

“Alessandro, surely you aren’t going to let a child decide what happens in your own home.”

“She says she saw you put something in the butter.”

There it was.

For less than a second, Isabella stopped breathing.

Alessandro saw it.

Emma saw it.

And Isabella knew they had both seen it.

Then her composure returned.

“A six-year-old?” Isabella asked incredulously. “You’re accusing me because of what a frightened little girl thinks she saw?”

“I haven’t accused you of anything.”

“You put contaminated food in front of me and tell me to eat it.” She pushed the plate away. “What would you call that?”

“A simple way to settle the question.”

Isabella rose from her chair.

Her eyes had changed.

“Perhaps the real question is why she’s lying.”

Emma flinched.

Alessandro stood immediately.

“Choose your next words carefully.”

Isabella stared at him in disbelief.

“You’re threatening me?”

“I’m protecting a child in my house.”

“A child you barely know.”

Alessandro’s jaw tightened.

Emma had arrived at the Romano estate four months earlier with her mother, Sofia, who worked in the household laundry.

Two weeks later, Sofia had died in what police had described as a single-car accident on a wet road outside Siena.

With no relatives immediately available, Alessandro’s elderly aunt Lucia had insisted that Emma remain at the estate while social services searched for family.

They found no one.

No father.

No grandparents.

No relatives willing to take her.

So Emma stayed.

She ate breakfast in the servants’ kitchen, wandered through the library with Rosie, and sometimes appeared beside Alessandro whenever he worked late.

Until that morning, she had never asked him for anything.

“She isn’t a liar,” Alessandro said.

Isabella’s face hardened.

“You cannot possibly know that.”

“I know she has nothing to gain.”

“Children always gain something,” Isabella replied coldly. “Attention. Sympathy. Power.”

Tears filled Emma’s eyes.

Alessandro stepped between them.

“That’s enough.”

Isabella stared at him.

Then, unexpectedly, she reached for the bread.

Emma cried out.

“Don’t!”

Isabella lifted the slice between two fingers.

“There. Happy?”

“Take a bite,” Alessandro said.

She looked directly into his eyes.

Then she slowly raised the bread toward her mouth.

Her lips parted.

Alessandro’s pulse began to hammer.

The bread came within an inch of her teeth.

Then a voice from the doorway shattered the moment.

“Mr. Romano.”

Everyone turned.

Teresa, Alessandro’s housekeeper, stood in the doorway holding a phone.

Her face was completely drained of color.

“There are police at the gate.”

Isabella lowered the bread.

“Police?”

Teresa looked at Alessandro instead of answering her.

“They say they need to speak with you immediately about Sofia Alvarez.”

Emma went completely still.

Her dead mother’s name seemed to hang in the room.

“What about Sofia?” Alessandro asked.

Teresa swallowed.

“They said her accident may not have been an accident.”

Emma dropped Rosie.

The stuffed rabbit struck the marble floor.

Isabella slowly placed the bread back onto the plate.

Very carefully.

Alessandro turned toward her.

“Did you know about this?”

Isabella stared at him.

“What are you talking about?”

“You reacted before Teresa even finished speaking.”

Isabella scoffed.

“Of course I reacted. The police arriving because a dead employee is being investigated is alarming.”

“Not as alarming as poisoned butter.”

Her face went white.

It was the first time Alessandro had used the word.

Poisoned.

Isabella’s composure finally cracked.

“Alessandro, listen to yourself.”

“No.”

He moved around the table.

“You listen to me.”

“The police are coming inside. Nobody leaves this room.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“You have no right to detain me.”

“I have every right to ask you to stay.”

“And if I refuse?”

Alessandro glanced toward the discreet security cameras mounted near the ceiling.

“Then my guards will make sure the police meet you before you reach the front door.”

For the first time, Isabella looked genuinely afraid.

Emma stared at her.

Then she whispered,

“She knew my mama.”

Alessandro turned.

“What did you say?”

Emma pointed directly at Isabella.

“She knew my mama before we came here.”

Isabella’s face drained of color.

“That’s nonsense.”

Emma shook her head.

“I heard them fighting.”

“When?” Alessandro asked.

“The night before Mama died.”

Alessandro felt as though the floor had shifted beneath him.

Isabella stepped forward.

“She’s confused.”

Emma backed away.

“No, I’m not.”

Alessandro crouched slightly.

“What did you hear?”

Emma’s voice trembled.

“Mama said… ‘You promised nobody would get hurt.’”

Nobody moved.

Isabella closed her eyes for one brief second.

It was enough.

Alessandro saw something change in her face.

“What did you promise Sofia?”

Isabella opened her eyes.

“Nothing.”

Emma whispered,

“Mama was crying.”

“Stop.”

It was the first time Isabella’s voice sounded genuinely frightened.

But Emma continued.

“She said she wanted to tell Mr. Romano.”

Isabella suddenly crossed the room.

“Enough!”

Alessandro caught her wrist before she could reach the child.

His grip was firm but controlled.

“Do not go near her.”

Isabella stared at his hand around her wrist.

“You’re making a terrible mistake.”

“Maybe.”

He released her.

“But I’m beginning to think I already made one when I asked you to marry me.”

Pain flashed across Isabella’s face.

Whether it was genuine or another performance, Alessandro could no longer tell.

Then they heard footsteps approaching from the corridor.

A moment later, two uniformed officers entered the room, followed by a tall woman wearing a dark coat.

“Mr. Romano?”

“Yes.”

She showed him her identification.

“Detective Elena Moretti, Siena Criminal Investigations.”

Her gaze swept across the room before settling briefly on Isabella.

Something passed between the two women.

Recognition.

Alessandro noticed immediately.

“You know her.”

Detective Moretti didn’t answer.

Isabella did.

“We’ve met.”

“Where?”

“I have no idea.”

The detective’s expression remained calm.

“I do.”

Isabella’s eyes narrowed.

Moretti slowly approached the table.

“We reopened Sofia Alvarez’s death yesterday.”

“Why?” Alessandro asked.

“Because we received new evidence.”

“What evidence?”

The detective looked toward Emma.

“A recording.”

Emma frowned.

Alessandro felt a chill travel through him.

“What recording?”

Moretti reached inside her coat.

Before she could take anything out, Isabella spoke.

“You should talk to your lawyer before you hear it.”

Alessandro turned toward her.

“Why would I need a lawyer?”

She said nothing.

Detective Moretti answered instead.

“Because the recording doesn’t just involve Sofia.”

She placed a small evidence bag on the table.

Inside was an old black digital recorder.

Alessandro stared at it.

Then Detective Moretti said the words that changed everything.

“Your father’s voice is on it.”

Alessandro’s chest tightened.

His father, Vittorio Romano, had been dead for eleven years.

“That’s impossible.”

“No,” Moretti replied. “It isn’t.”

She pressed a button through the evidence sleeve.

Static filled the room.

Then a man’s voice emerged.

Older.

Rough.

Unmistakable.

Alessandro stopped breathing.

It was Vittorio.

“If anything happens to me,” the recording said, “Alessandro must never marry Isabella Bellini.”

Isabella closed her eyes.

Emma began to cry.

And Alessandro finally understood something terrifying.

The poisoned bread wasn’t the beginning of the mystery.

It might be the final move in a plan that had started more than a decade before he ever met the woman he intended to marry.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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