Chapter 3
Isabella
Early the next morning, I knew I was in deep trouble.
When I rushed to my bakery, the sight before me nearly knocked me off my feet. The glass door was shattered, and threatening notes plastered the display window.
[Food safety violations]
[Owner dodges debts]
[Crooked business]
Each note made my heart race faster.
"Isabella?" My elderly neighbor Rose cautiously approached. "Some thugs were causing trouble here late last night. They threatened to smash anyone's car who dared to buy bread from you."
My hands trembled. This was definitely Marco's revenge.
Sure enough, before I could finish cleaning up, several tattooed thugs blocked the entrance.
"I heard this place has issues, using expired ingredients," one deliberately announced loudly enough for passersby to hear.
"Yeah, my friend got sick after eating their bread."
"Everyone should stay away unless you want food poisoning."
I rushed out to confront them, but they just smirked, showing no intention of leaving.
For an entire week, my bakery remained empty. Regular customers either avoided the street altogether or hurried past with concerned glances.
That evening in my apartment, I collapsed on the couch, surrounded by bills. Rent, loans, supplier invoices... each one demanding payment.
I took out the black card Vito had given me, turning it over in my hands. Three hundred thousand dollars—enough to solve all my problems.
But I couldn't do it.
What now, though? If this continues, I'll be bankrupt soon.
I opened my phone and began searching for job listings nearby. Brooklyn restaurants, coffee shops, retail stores... I had waitressing experience; I should be able to find something.
A posting for an Italian restaurant called "Bella Notte" caught my attention. Upscale dining, decent pay, located in Little Italy.
The thought of supporting myself through honest work rekindled my hope.
The next day at noon, I stood in front of "Bella Notte," the most elegant Italian restaurant in Little Italy, taking a deep breath.
It was even more upscale than I'd imagined.
"Do you have a reservation?" A man in a black suit approached—presumably the manager.
"I... I'm here about the waitress position," I said nervously. "I saw your job posting. I have restaurant experience."
The man looked me up and down, seemingly considering.
Just then, the door to the private dining room upstairs suddenly opened.
My heart stopped.
Vito, wearing a tailored navy suit, was slowly descending the stairs. The moment our eyes met, the air seemed to freeze.
Oh my God! What's he doing here?!
His expression flickered briefly before returning to cool composure, as if we were strangers.
"She's applying for a job?" His voice was deep and detached, completely lacking the tenderness from that night.
"Yes, Boss," the manager answered respectfully.
Boss? This is his restaurant? How could my luck be this bad?
Vito approached me, those intense eyes seeming to pierce my soul. I caught a flash of complex emotion in his gaze.
"Are you sure you can handle it?" His tone was strictly professional. "Our clientele is... particular."
I struggled to maintain composure despite my internal turmoil. "I'm not afraid of challenges."
He stared at me for several seconds, contemplating something.
"Fine. Start tomorrow." He turned to leave, then paused. "Remember, we have many rules here."
Three days later during dinner service, disaster struck.
I was attending to guests when I heard jarring laughter from the entrance.
Marco!
He walked in with his arm around the blonde from that night, deliberately choosing the most visible table in the center of the dining room.
"Look, my ex-girlfriend works for my family now," Marco's voice was intentionally loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear. "How amusing—from baker to waitress?"
I felt blood rushing to my head. The entire restaurant fell silent, all eyes focused on me.
"Marco, please dine quietly," I struggled to maintain professionalism.
"Quietly?" He stood up, a malicious smile on his face. "I need your permission to speak in my family's restaurant?"
Then he turned to the other diners, raising his voice further: "Did you all know? This woman betrayed me and slept with my father!"
The blonde giggled beside him while other patrons began whispering. Looks of humiliation, shock, and confusion shot at me from every direction.
Just as I felt I might break down, footsteps sounded on the stairs.
All eyes instantly turned.
Vito descended slowly. His expression was terrifyingly dark, seeming to drop the temperature in the entire restaurant by several degrees.
Each step landed on everyone's collective conscience.
When he reached Marco, everyone held their breath.
CRACK!
The sound of a sharp slap echoed throughout the restaurant.
Marco stumbled backward, a bright red handprint immediately forming on his face.
"In my restaurant, no one humiliates my employees," Vito's voice was low and dangerous.
Then, turning to everyone, his voice carried clearly to every corner of the restaurant: "My apologies for interrupting your meals—just resolving some family matters. Please continue."
Dead silence.
Marco held his face, fear and anger flashing in his eyes, but ultimately said nothing, slinking away with the blonde in tow.
After the guests departed, I was alone in the back kitchen arranging dishes, my hands still trembling slightly.
"Isabella, do you know who our boss is?" Manager Tony approached quietly, lowering his voice. "Vito De Santis, the most dangerous man in Brooklyn."
My hand jerked, nearly dropping a plate. "What do you mean?"
"You don't know?" Tony looked shocked. "The De Santis family... they're the most powerful... family business in Brooklyn."
He didn't spell it out, but I understood.
The Mafia.
My legs weakened. Had I unknowingly applied for a job at a mafia boss's restaurant? And I had even...
"Scared now?"
The familiar deep voice sounded behind me. I turned to find Vito leaning against the doorframe, his gaze intense. Tony immediately greeted him and slipped away, leaving us alone in the confined space.
"I..."
"If you're afraid, you can still leave," he approached slowly, each step seeming to match my heartbeat. "But remember, once you choose to stay..."
He stopped in front of me, reaching out to gently caress my cheek. The gesture was unbearably tender yet incredibly dangerous.
"There's no turning back."
I looked into his deep eyes, feeling the warmth of his fingertips, my heart threatening to explode.
I knew I should be terrified, should turn and run.
But my body betrayed my reason.
"I'm not afraid," I heard myself say.
A flash of satisfaction gleamed in his eyes.
"Good," he whispered near my ear, his hot breath making me shiver. "Then prepare yourself for the real test."
With that, he turned and left, leaving me standing there, my heart pounding like thunder.
I knew my life had changed forever.
And strangely, I found myself looking forward to that change.
