THE DEVIL'S ANGEL

Chapter 12

Above is Isabella's dress

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### Chapter Twelve: The Ball and the Threat

The Falconi estate buzzed with the excitement of the evening ahead. It had been years since Isabella had attended any formal event, let alone something as grand as tonight's ball. For hours, the servants had been rushing around, preparing for the guests and ensuring everything was perfect. Even Alessandro seemed more preoccupied than usual, though his demeanor remained as cold as ever.

Isabella stood in front of the full-length mirror in her dressing room, her eyes tracing the lines of the gown she wore. It was a stunning creation—a deep, rich crimson that flowed like liquid silk as it cascaded to the floor. The fabric shimmered in the low light, its intricate details catching the glow of the chandeliers above her. The gown hugged her figure in all the right places, the soft material whispering against her skin as she moved.

For a moment, she allowed herself to admire the reflection. She looked regal, almost powerful. But beneath the surface, she felt a gnawing sense of unease. Tonight wasn't just any night. She would be in the presence of powerful people—people who were more dangerous than they appeared.

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts, and when she opened it, Alessandro was standing there, dressed in a sleek black suit. His sharp gaze swept over her, and for a brief second, his expression softened, as if seeing her in the gown stirred something within him. But just as quickly, his usual detached demeanor returned.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice flat.

Isabella nodded, feeling a strange flutter in her chest. She wasn't sure if it was from the excitement of the ball or the tension that always hung between them.

Alessandro offered his arm, and together, they descended the grand staircase, the sound of music and chatter growing louder as they neared the ballroom. The scene that greeted them was nothing short of magnificent. The room was bathed in the warm glow of chandeliers, casting a soft golden light over the guests who mingled and danced beneath the ornate ceilings. Every detail was lavish, from the towering floral arrangements to the crystal goblets that sparkled on the tables.

But Isabella barely noticed the opulence. Her attention was drawn to the people—the powerful men who held sway over the criminal underworld, their wives and mistresses dressed in glittering gowns, each one vying for attention and favor.

As they entered, all eyes turned toward them. Alessandro, as always, commanded the room with his mere presence. But Isabella could feel the whispers, the stares directed at her, the wife of the notorious Don Falconi. She had been out of the public eye for so long that her reappearance at such an event was bound to stir curiosity.

"Remember to smile," Alessandro murmured under his breath as they made their way through the crowd. "You're my wife. Act the part."

Isabella forced a smile, though inside, her nerves were frayed. She had played this role before, but tonight felt different. There was something in the air, an undercurrent of tension that made her uneasy.

As the evening wore on, Isabella drifted through the crowd, exchanging polite words with strangers and old acquaintances alike. But her mind remained elsewhere, distracted by the nagging feeling that something was wrong.

That's when she saw her—Valeria.

The secretary stood across the room, her sleek black dress a sharp contrast to the softness of Isabella's red gown. Valeria's eyes met hers, and in that moment, Isabella felt a chill run down her spine. There was something predatory in the woman's gaze, something that made Isabella's skin crawl.

Valeria began to move toward her, weaving through the crowd with the grace of a snake. Isabella's heart quickened as the distance between them closed, her unease growing with every step. She knew Valeria was dangerous, but there was more to it. The secretary wasn't just Alessandro's employee—she had her own ambitions, her own desires, and they were directed at her husband.

"Enjoying the evening?" Valeria's voice was as smooth as silk, but there was an edge to it, a sharpness that made Isabella's chest tighten.

"I am," Isabella replied, keeping her tone polite but distant. She didn't trust this woman, and the last thing she wanted was to engage in a conversation with her.

Valeria's lips curled into a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You look lovely tonight. The red suits you. But I wonder... does it feel strange, wearing a color so bold when you've been so... quiet all these years?"

Isabella stiffened, the veiled insult clear. "I wear what I like."

"Of course," Valeria said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Though I suppose it's only fitting. After all, you need to make your presence known, don't you? Especially when certain people might be... watching."

Isabella's heart pounded in her chest. She knew exactly what Valeria was implying, but she refused to let the woman see her fear.

"I'm not interested in playing games with you, Valeria," Isabella said, her voice firm. "Whatever you think you have to say, save it. I won't be intimidated by you."

Valeria's smile widened, her eyes gleaming with malice. "Oh, Isabella, I don't need to intimidate you. You're already afraid, aren't you? Afraid that Alessandro might not be as devoted to you as you'd like to believe."

The words hit Isabella like a punch to the gut, but she refused to show it. She held her ground, her eyes locked with Valeria's.

"Alessandro is my husband," Isabella said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "And whatever you think you know, you don't. He'll never be yours."

Valeria's smile faltered for a moment, but then she laughed softly, a cold, hollow sound. "We'll see about that, won't we?"

Before Isabella could respond, Valeria leaned in close, her voice a low whisper that sent a shiver down Isabella's spine. "You might wear the red tonight, Isabella. But remember, in this world, the color of power isn't something you can just put on. It's something you have to take."

With that, Valeria straightened and walked away, leaving Isabella standing there, her heart racing and her mind swirling with fear and anger.

For the rest of the evening, Isabella couldn't shake the encounter from her mind. Valeria's words echoed in her head, filling her with a dread she hadn't felt before. She knew she was in dangerous territory, not just with Alessandro, but with the people who surrounded him.

As the night drew to a close and she stood beside her husband, watching the guests slowly file out of the ballroom, Isabella felt the weight of Valeria's threat pressing down on her. This was no longer just a battle for her survival in Alessandro's world. It was a battle for her place in his life, and she wasn't sure if she was prepared to fight it.

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This chapter highlights the tension and looming threat posed by Valeria as Isabella tries to navigate the dangerous dynamics surrounding her husband. The ball serves as a backdrop for the growing rivalry between the two women, as Isabella begins to realize just how precarious her position truly is.