Loving You Was My Poision Chapter 06

Loving You Was My Poision Chapter 06

Isa’s POV 

week later, I stood on the terrace of the Russo estate watching the sun sink toward the horizon. 

This whole week, Luca had given me space. No hovering. No invasive questions. Just had Victor, our house manager, handle my needs while I slowly 

remembered what normal felt like. 

I needed it. Three years of marriage had been a waking nightmare. Now that I’d escaped, I had to gelearn how to actually live. 

“Isa.” Luca approached, pressing a champagne flute into my hand. “Everything’s ready for tonight.” 

“Tonight?” 

“Your homecoming.” He smiled. “All the major families will be there. This is your official return.” 

I stared down at the golden bubbles, emotions churning. 

The ballroom was breathtaking. 

Crystal chandeliers threw dazzling light across crowds of elegantly dressed people–the cream of New York’s most powerful families. 

“Everyone.” Luca raised his glass, voice carrying. 

Tonight I’m honored to officially introduce my sister, 

Isabella Russo.” 

Thunderous applause. 

Then came the parade of introductions. Family heads approached to offer congratulations and make carefully diplomatic conversation. I went through the motions, practiced smile firmly in place. 

“Miss Russo, welcome home.” 

“It’s a privilege to meet you.” 

“If there’s ever anything we can do for you, please don’t hesitate.” 

Luca leaned in, voice low with amusement. “See those 

young guys over there? All heirs to major operations. Pick one. Have him marry into the family.” 

Half–joking, half–serious: “Anything’s better than Castro.” 

I gave him a sideways look. “Are you seriously trying to auction me off right now?” 

“I’m trying to find you someone who deserves you.” He shrugged. 

A young man in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit approached us. 

“Miss Russo, I’m Alessandro Moretti. Boston family.” 

He inclined his head respectfully. “Would you do me 

the honor of a dance?” 

I glanced at Luca. He nodded approval. 

On the dance floor, Alessandro proved to be an excellent partner. Didn’t pry. Didn’t ask 

uncomfortable questions. Just guided me smoothly through the steps. 

When the music ended, I realized I was actually smiling. 

Maybe starting over was possible after all. 

Just past midnight, the party began winding down. 

Exhausted, I headed toward my room. The hallway stretched empty and quiet, my heels clicking against 

marble. 

Then I sensed movement behind me. 

Before I could turn, something pressed over my nose and mouth–cloth soaked in something sharp and chemical. 

I tried to fight, tried to scream, but my limbs went heavy and useless. 

The world went black. 

When I came to, I was in a room I’d never seen before. 

Large. Luxuriously furnished. But every window had 

been sealed shut. My wrists were bound to the headboard with soft rope. 

“There you are.” 

Vito’s voice drifted from the doorway. 

He walked in looking like hell–unshaven, hollow- eyed, clothes rumpled. 

My heart stopped. 

Vito… you’re OUT OF YOUR MIND.” 

“Out of my mind?” He laughed–bitter, broken. “Yeah. 

Been that way since the moment you said you didn’t love me anymore.” 

He moved closer. “Isa, you should eat something.” 

An elaborate breakfast sat on the nightstand. All my favorite foods. 

“Let me GO.” My voice came out like ice. 

“We need to talk.” His tone turned pleading, “I know I messed everything up, but I swear I want to fix this. 

We can start over-” 

“By KIDNAPPING me?” I laughed harshly. “Vito, you‘ ve completely lost it.” 

“YES!” He suddenly dropped to his knees beside the 

bed. “I HAVE lost it! The second you walked away 

from me, I lost my MIND!” 

“Just give me one chance–one chance to prove I love you-” 

“Then sign the divorce papers.” 

Vito’s face changed completely. 

Long, terrible silence. Then suddenly he grabbed a knife from the breakfast tray and drove it into his own forearm. 

Blood welled up immediately. 

Is THIS enough?” He stabbed himself again. “Will you forgive me NOW?” Again. “WHAT DO YOU WANT 

FROM ME?!” 

I stared in horror. “STOP IT!” 

Something triumphant flashed in his eyes. “You still 

care. I knew it. You still care about me.” 

I closed my eyes, sick to my stomach. 

He was still manipulating me. Still playing games. 

That afternoon, after he’d bandaged his self–inflicted wounds, Vito started spinning new lies. 

“I ended things with Elena.” His voice was too casual. She and Joe went to Europe. Started fresh.” 

“Isa, we can do the same. Have our own children-” 

“Forgotten already?” I looked at him with pure contempt. “I CAN’T have children anymore. Thanks to you and those stairs.” 

Vito went pale as death. “God, I’m sorry… I’ll make it up to you. We can adopt. Or find a surrogate-” 

“Vito.” I cut him off, voice perfectly clear. “I. Don’t. 

Love. You. Anymore.” 

He stood there like I’d shot him. 

“No.” He shook his head, muttering. “No, you still love 

me. You have to. You have to still love me.” 

The doorbell rang. He went to answer it. 

Elena’s voice carried back to me–shrill, desperate. 

“Vito, PLEASE! Joe’s dumping me–says the baby’s not even his–you have to help me, you PROMISED-” 

Her voice cut off abruptly. 

Then Vito’s response, cold as a February wind: ” Enough, Elena.” 

“I’ve been more than generous. Money, Housing. 

Medical bills. But we’re done.” 

“NO! We can’t be done!” Elena’s voice cracked. “You 

said you’d take care of us–me and the baby-” 

“I never promised you anything.” No warmth 

whatsoever in his tone. “You misunderstood. Here’s a 

check. Take it. Leave. Don’t come back.” 

“Vito-” 

“GO.” 

The door slammed hard enough to rattle the walls 

Vito returned to the bedroom. Saw me awake and 

watching. Smiled like nothing had happened. “See? I‘ 

ve cut her off completely. It’s just you and me now.” 

The nausea hit harder. I turned my face away. 

The next three days, I tried everything to escape. 

Worked my wrists free while he slept–discovered every door and window was locked tight. Smashed a vase trying to make noise–realized the house was completely isolated. Even tried braiding bedsheets into a rope–found out the windows had been welded shut. 

Each failed attempt made Vito more vigilant. 

By day four, I stopped trying to escape. 

Instead, I stopped eating entirely. 

“Isa, please, you have to eat SOMETHING,” Vito was frantic now. “Just tell me what you want–I’ll get anything-” 

“Freedom.” 

“Anything BUT THAT!” He was unraveling. “Isa, you’ll DIE like this!” 

“Good.” My smile was bitter. “Then I’d finally be free.” 

Pure panic crossed Vito’s face. “If you won’t eat, I’ll MAKE you!” 

He actually tried to force–feed me. I fought back. Food went everywhere. We struggled violently- 

Then suddenly Vito just stopped. 

He collapsed onto the floor, head in his hands, sobbing. “Maybe I really am crazy. I can’t control myself anymore, Isa.” 

“I know this is wrong. I KNOW it is. But I can’t let you go. I can’t,” 

“I’m terrified…” His voice broke. “Terrified that 

losing you will be what finally destroys me completely.” 

His hands shook uncontrollably. His whole body curled in on itself. 

This wasn’t manipulation. This was genuine breakdown. 

I stared at him, feeling something crack inside my chest. 

Was he actually… mentally ill?