Married to the Wrong CEO

Chapter 38: Cold

Ettore didn’t hesitate to take Elisa to the hospital, with Isadora standing right beside him, her red eyes showing that she had wept enough tears to leave visible trails down her cheeks.

Her clothes were also lightly soaked, but she couldn’t care less as she stood waiting for the emergency doors to open, desperate to know the fate of her sister.

She had been breathing when she was brought in, but who knew how long that would last? She had lost two fingers and two toes — the thought alone was too tragic for Isadora to dwell on as she clamped her trembling hands together and continued to wait.

Ettore stood beside her without saying a word. He was drenched too, but with the shades on his eyes, he looked completely aloof, as though nothing could touch him.

Seconds became minutes, and just when it was slowly ticking toward an hour, a couple of doctors stepped out. Isadora rushed to them before they could even make their way toward her.

"How is she?" Isadora asked, anxiety boldly written across her face, even as the female doctor tried to pacify her.

"Apart from the huge blood loss she suffered, she’ll be fine," the doctor said, and Isadora felt a wave of relief. Elisa had been tossed out of a moving vehicle, and she had feared the worst.

"Apart from her missing parts, all that’s left are bruises and cuts that will heal in time. A sprained wrist and tender ribs, but she’ll be fine," the doctor continued.

"You won’t be able to see her right now, but if you come back tomorrow, you will. You’re drenched — you should also get some rest," she added, her tone kind but firm.

Isadora didn’t want to leave, but she knew she had no choice. Worse, she had no idea how she would tell her dad and stepmother about what had happened. Still, she remained in the hallway for a moment, staring at the closed emergency doors, before finally accepting she had to go. Elisa was unconscious, and the doctors had made it clear she couldn’t see her tonight. fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

Ettore remained silent beside her, almost like he wasn’t even there, as Isadora decided to head back to Dante’s mansion, her face drawn with a deep frown.

They both remained quiet for the entire ride. By the time they got back, it was already close to midnight, and it was still pouring outside.

Isadora had barely walked in when she met Guila, who instantly offered her a cup of hot tea without asking a single question about why she looked like such a pitiful mess.

All Isadora wanted to do was head straight to her room, collapse on her bed, and pray that everything that had happened had been a dream — even though she knew it wasn’t.

But she had just begun walking toward the stairs when she heard Guila speak.

"Mr. Bellini insisted you meet with him in the study the moment you arrived. He has been waiting," she said softly.

Isadora nodded, aware of her red eyes and the pounding headache that had been building since she left the hospital. Her appearance was probably awful, but it didn’t matter. Her sister was lying in a hospital bed, missing parts of her body — how she looked was the least of her concerns.

The gory memory of Elisa’s injuries still sent chills down her spine as she turned and walked toward the study, determined to see Dante before going to bed.

Guila remained outside, and Ettore didn’t follow her in; his duty ended the moment she stepped back inside the house.

Isadora closed the study door behind her and immediately saw him. Dante was seated in a chair, looking entirely at ease. Unlike usual, he wore black silk pajamas that looked impossibly comfortable.

In his hand was a book, and he had on the same pair of glasses she had seen before, the ones that made him look cold and impossibly composed. The light from the lamp illuminated his sharp features as he turned a page, seemingly lost in what he was reading.

Isadora walked closer, speaking before he could. She had no intention of sitting down or prolonging the conversation — she was too drained for that.

"You wanted to speak to me?" she asked, surprised by how hoarse her voice sounded. She hadn’t realized how hard she’d been crying until she heard herself speak.

Dante didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pointed to the chair opposite him, where a coat hung.

"You’re drenched," he said. "Use it."

Isadora stared at him for a second, then silently picked it up and put it on.

"You wanted to speak to me? I’m tired, and I’d rather go to sleep," she told him, her tone flat. She didn’t bother giving details — Ettore had likely already told him everything that mattered. freёwebnoѵel.com

But instead of showing even a trace of concern, Dante spoke in that same calm, cold voice that grated against her nerves.

"Do you think this will affect our arrangement?" he asked, his words slow and deliberate.

Isadora blinked at him, barely believing what she had just heard. Then she shook her head quickly, her eyes stinging as she clenched her hands into fists to keep from breaking down again.

"Why should it?" she asked sharply, her tone edged with bitterness. Her family’s safety — their very lives — depended on that arrangement.

"Good," Dante said simply, closing his book and placing it on the table. "Tomorrow, you can take care of your sister. But the day after, we’ll go meet my family."

He gestured lazily with one hand, dismissing her as though she were a servant who had overstayed her welcome.

Even so, Isadora could tell he was irritated, though she didn’t know why. Maybe it was because she dared to look at him with eyes that weren’t full of fear. Or maybe it was because he simply didn’t care about anything but control.

Either way, she didn’t respond. She just turned toward the door, her body trembling with exhaustion and anger.

If she could, she would have wrapped both hands around his throat and choked the calm, detached arrogance right out of him — until he finally knew what it felt like to lose something.