A week later, when Alessandro announced in an almost casual tone that she could return to her bookstore, Isabella almost thought she had misheard. The feeling was like that of a prisoner sentenced to life suddenly granted temporary parole. Joy bubbled up uncontrollably from the depths of her heart, making it almost impossible for her to breathe.

"You look happy," Alessandro sat across from her at the breakfast table in the dim morning light, elegantly cutting open a boiled egg with a silver knife. His observations were always so precise.


"I... yes." Isabella struggled to suppress the trembling in her voice and the urge to jump up from her chair immediately. "I just... miss my books very much."

"They have always been there." He lifted his eyelids, his deep gaze piercing through the misty morning light, falling upon her face. "But remember, Isabella, this doesn't mean the game is over. It's just moved to a larger chessboard." He put down his knife and fork, gently wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin, then stood up, walked behind her, and leaned down to whisper in her ear in a voice only the two of them could hear: "Luca will accompany you. Don't let him out of your sight, and don't try anything foolish, understand? My patience has its limits."

His breath was warm and dangerous, like the tongue of a venomous snake, licking at the shell of her ear, sending a familiar current of mixed fear and excitement up her spine. She nodded, her heart pounding uncontrollably.


When that black armored limousine stopped in front of "Thorn Bookstore," Isabella felt as if she were sleepwalking. She pushed open the car door, stepped onto the familiar sidewalk, sunlight gently pouring onto her face, the air permeated with the city's unique blend of coffee aroma and exhaust fumes. Everything felt so real, yet so unreal.

Luca and another burly bodyguard, like two silent mountains, followed several steps behind her. Their presence was so strong, yet they skillfully blended into the street scene, as if they were just ordinary pedestrians. Isabella took out her key, trembling as she opened the deep green wooden door. The little bell on the door made a crisp, melodious tinkling sound, as if welcoming its long-absent mistress.


Everything in the bookstore was exactly as it had been when she left, only covered with a thin layer of dust. Sunlight streamed through the large street-facing windows, casting countless columns of dancing dust particles in the air. That familiar smell—a mixture of old paper, ink, and a faint mustiness—enveloped her, nearly bringing her to tears. This was her world, her sanctuary, her soul's dwelling place.

"I... I'd like to be alone for a while," she turned to Luca and said, her voice pleading.

Luca surveyed the interior of the store expressionlessly, then nodded. "We'll be outside. If anything happens, press this." He handed her a black device the size of a matchbox with just one red button on it.

Isabelle-Bella took the emergency caller and watched as Luca and another bodyguard retreated outside the door, standing like guardian statues on either side of the entrance. She finally gained a moment of supervised freedom. She took a deep breath and began to patrol her kingdom like a happy bee. She ran her fingertips over the bookshelves to remove dust, rearranged books that customers had misplaced, and greedily breathed in the air of this place. She even brewed herself a cup of coffee, cradling the warm mug as she sat in her favorite old armchair by the window, feeling as if the rhythm of the entire world had slowed down.

This moment of tranquility was so beautiful that she completely failed to notice two men in ordinary jackets entering the bookstore. One walked toward the bestseller section, while the other headed straight for her.

"Excuse me, do you have a first edition of 'Moby-Dick' here?" The man walking toward her asked, his smile seemed friendly, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that made her uncomfortable.

"First edition? That's very rare, I don't have it here." Isabella politely replied, while instinctively feeling that something was wrong. An invisible alarm went off in her mind. She unconsciously gripped the emergency caller in her pocket.

"Is that so? What a pity." The man continued to move closer to her, his smile turning ferocious, "Our boss says that we must 'invite' Miss Thorn over for a visit."

Before he finished speaking, his hand had already shot out like lightning, reaching for Isabella's wrist. At the same time, another man in the bestseller section suddenly turned around, pulling something out from inside his jacket.

Isa-bella screamed in fear, but the sound was cut off almost as soon as it began. Not by the man, but by a shadow that suddenly appeared.

Luca moved.

His movements were as fast as a phantom. In the instant the man grabbed Isabella's wrist, Luca had already rushed in from outside the door. One hand clamped like an iron vise on the back of the man's neck, while his other hand delivered a vicious chop at a tricky angle to the joint of the arm that was grabbing Isabella. With a spine-chilling "crack" of breaking bone, the man's arm bent at a grotesque angle, causing him to let out a pig-like shriek of agony.

Isabella barely had time to react before Luca pulled her behind him with one swift motion. She watched in horror as another bodyguard rushed in and became entangled in combat with the attacker who had drawn a weapon. The bookstore instantly erupted into chaos, with bookshelves shaking precariously and books falling like snowflakes all around them.

Luca's combat could not even be called a "struggle"; it was a one-sided, efficient, and deadly slaughter. He gave the man with the broken arm absolutely no chance. After violently driving his knee into the opponent's abdomen, causing him to double over in pain, Luca's arm coiled like a venomous snake around the man's neck, then twisted sharply.

"Crack."

The sound was soft, yet it struck Isabella's heart like a heavy hammer.

She watched helplessly as the man who had been speaking just a second ago instantly went limp, the light in his eyes rapidly fading, replaced by a hollow, deathly gray emptiness. He collapsed at her feet, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle, mouth slightly open as if he wanted to say something, but could never make another sound.

Blood.

A stream of bright red blood flowed from the man's mouth and nostrils, quickly spreading across the beige carpet at her feet, forming a strange and glaring flower.

In that instant, Isabella's world lost all sound. She couldn't hear the muffled grunt of the other attacker being subdued, nor could she hear the urgent voice of the bodyguard reporting the situation over the intercom. In her field of vision, there remained only the gradually cooling corpse and that ever-expanding bloodstain. The familiar scent of books in the air was completely overwhelmed by a thick, nauseating smell of blood.

This was not a game. This was not role-playing with Alessandro in that red room. This was a living person, a life, right before her eyes, ended in such a brutal and effortless manner.

"Ugh——"

A strong wave of nausea surged up from Isabella's stomach, and she could no longer hold back, bending over to retch violently. Her limbs were ice cold, her mind completely blank. An enormous fear, like an invisible hand, gripped her heart tightly, making it almost impossible for her to breathe.

"Miss Isabella!" Luca's voice seemed to come from far away as he grabbed her arm, trying to pull her away from the horrifying scene.

"No... no..." she struggled wildly, screaming incoherently, "He... he's dead..."

"It's not safe here, we must leave immediately!" Luca's voice carried not a trace of emotion. His strength was astonishing as he half-dragged, half-pulled her toward the exit.

Isabella's legs completely gave way, and she was practically dragged out of the bookstore by Luca. Several black sedans were already parked outside, with more than a dozen men in black suits spread out vigilantly, blocking the entire street. She was roughly shoved into the back seat of one of the cars, and Luca got in after her.

The moment the car door closed, Alessandro arrived.

His car, like an angry beast, stopped beside them with a piercing screech of brakes. The door was violently pushed open, and Alessandro stepped out of the car. He didn't even glance at the situation inside the bookstore. His bottomless black eyes, like two laser beams, locked firmly onto Isabella, who was pale-faced and trembling like a leaf in the wind inside the car.

He pulled open the car door, and an extremely cold aura instantly filled the entire compartment.

Isabella shrank back like a frightened little animal, instinctively retreating as she looked at him. There was no expression on his face; that handsome face, like a marble statue, was covered with a layer of frost. But his eyes, those eyes she had once lost herself in, now burned with hellish flames. It was pure, destructive rage that contained not a trace of human emotion.

He didn't say a single word of comfort to her, didn't ask if she was hurt. He just looked at her, with a gaze that seemed to be checking whether a precious possession of his was undamaged. Then, he slowly turned his head, his gaze falling on Luca's face as he stood by the car.

His voice wasn't loud, but it was like a Siberian cold front, making everyone around feel a bone-chilling coldness from the depths of their hearts.

"Find out who did this."

He paused, each word seeming to squeeze through his clenched teeth, carrying a bloody, iron-rust taste.

"Completely erase his entire family from this city."

The moment the order was issued, Alessandro bent down and got into the car, sitting beside Isabella. He didn't touch her, but she could feel the wild, almost tangible killing intent emanating from him. He closed the car door, shutting out the outside world.

Then, he finally reached out, not to embrace, not to soothe, but with an irrefutable force, he tightly, tightly imprisoned her trembling, ice-cold body in his arms. His arms were like steel, squeezing her painfully, but Isabella, like a drowning person who had grasped the only piece of driftwood, buried her face deeply into his expensive suit that smelled of cedar and faint gunpowder, and broke into tears.