My Mafia Boss Let His Family Accuse Me of Stealing—So I Left His Ring on the Table and Walked Away

Isabella’s fingers tightened around her phone until her knuckles turned white.

"I didn't steal anything, Carlo, and you know it," she said, keeping her voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through her veins.

A low, patronizing chuckle came through the speaker.

"It doesn't matter what I know, my dear. It matters what the family believes. Right now, Sophia is crying in the parlor, my mother is calling the Rossi name dirt, and Dante is losing his mind trying to figure out how his pristine little fiancée turned out to be a common thief."

"You put it in my bag while everyone was looking at the wine list," Isabella stated coldly.

"A clever move, wasn't it?" Carlo murmured softly. "I bumped your chair when I went to fetch my aunt another glass of sparkling water. Nobody noticed. Nobody ever notices the cousin being helpful."

"I’m going to tell Dante," she said.

"Go ahead," Carlo sneered. "Tell him. You have no proof, your name is on the police report if my aunt decides to file, and Dante will choose my blood over your word every single day of the week. You saw his face tonight, Isabella. He didn't defend you. He let Marco open your bag."

The words pierced her deeper than she wanted to admit, because they were true. When the pressure was applied, Dante hadn't stood in front of her—he had stood apart.

"Why are you calling me, Carlo?"

"Because I'm giving you an exit," Carlo said, his tone dropping its charm, turning sharp and lethal. "There is a train leaving Penn Station for Montreal at six tomorrow morning. Be on it. If you're still in New York by noon, Uncle Sal's enforcers will make sure you vanish. And Dante won't be able to save you."

The line went dead.

Isabella lowered the phone, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Marco was watching her closely. "What did he say?"

"He told me to take a six a.m. train to Montreal," Isabella whispered. "Or Uncle Sal's men will kill me."

Marco’s face went dark. He reached inside his jacket, pulling out a small, encrypted flash drive and placing it on her kitchen table.

"What is that?" Isabella asked.

"The secondary backup of the Brooklyn real estate ledgers," Marco said. "I copied them three weeks ago when I started noticing discrepancies in the dock payroll. I didn't have the legal knowledge to prove the fraud. But you have an accounting degree, Miss Rossi."

Isabella looked at the silver drive resting under her kitchen lamp.

"You want me to fight him," she said.

"I want you to survive," Marco corrected softly. "If you run, you're guilty in their eyes forever. If you stay and break Carlo, Dante will have to look at what he allowed to happen tonight."