Chapter Five

Chapter 5

Isabella stood in the shadows of the dark plaza. Her cloak's hood covered her face. She breathed out clouds in the cold air. She looked around the empty streets for anyone moving. 

This was it; the point where she could not go back. For many months, she had secretly made plans behind her family's back. Everything was ready now. She just needed Erico Moretti to do what they had agreed. 

She heard footsteps which made Isabella tense up. Her fingers moved towards the hidden gun tucked in her waistband. But the person approaching just raised two fingers to signal everything was okay.

Isabella barely nodded her head as Erico Moretti walked into the streetlight. His big body was covered by a heavy coat. Even from far away, Isabella could feel the danger coming from him. This was a man who had lost all human kindness long ago and was only brutal like an animal. He was the son of Dorven Moretti.

Good, Isabella would need all of Erico's viciousness for what was about to happen.

"Evening, Miss Corleone," Erico said in his rough voice. His small eyes shined from under his raised collar. "You got everything ready to go?"

"Of course," Isabella said shortly. "If you held up your end of the deal, that is."

The big man laughed a rusty laugh. He did not seem bothered by Isabella's rude manner. "When have I ever broken a deal with you? I have my best guy in place right now, just waiting for your signal."

Part of Isabella did not want to deal with this criminal, even though he was important to her plans for revenge. A Moretti like him did not deserve to breathe the same air as a Corleone. But she forced down her feelings of disgust to stay focused.

"Then we proceed as planned. Give your sniper fifteen minutes, then have him send my dear father a message he won't forget." 

"Girl, by the time my guy is done shooting your father in the head, Salvatore will be lucky if he can even remember his own name."

Isabella felt satisfaction at the threat in Erico's voice, even though she hated the thought of violence against her own family member. This was war, she reminded herself. A bitter fight for control of her family's legacy and her freedom. Sacrifices would have to be made; starting with the one man who refused to recognize her worth.

"Just make sure it's done," she said impatiently. "If I'm taking such a big risk, I expect massive damage. The shot needs to hit and kill my father for sure. No loose ends for my brother to see."

Erico's expression did not change as he nodded. "You got it, boss. Old Man Corleone will lose his head before morning. Count on it."

"It better be done." Isabella turned to leave, already feeling the weight of her fateful decision. A thousand doubts and silent protests filled her mind, dividing her focus.  

"Oh, one more thing," Erico said, making Isabella pause. 

"What now? She looked at him over her shoulder. 

"It's a lot easier for my guys to get through your house security if they have a woman on the inside helping," he said casually. "You got anyone you trust enough to lend out? Just for tonight?"

Isabella tensed up in revulsion at what he implied. "You want me to offer up one of my own people? As some human shield?"

"More like a pretty little distraction," Erico shrugged, looking Isabella up and down. 

"That's enough!" Isabella snapped, her face burning with shame and a spark of cruel interest. No, she would not give up some poor woman that way, not even to help her plans. There had to be lines she would not cross, morals she kept. 

"The terms are clear, kill Salvatore, let me take over the family business, and I'll make sure the Moretti business has connections to our operations," she said angrily. "But keep your disgusting urges out of this, understand?"

Erico must have sensed the threat in Isabella's voice because he raised his hands in surrender. "Easy, easy. Didn't mean to get crazy on you, Ms. Corleone. Just a little chat between friends."

"We are not friends," Isabella hissed, her cheeks still red despite the cold. "This is temporarily working together at best. So let's just get the bloody work done, shall we? Before I decide your usefulness no longer makes up for dealing with filthy dogs."

She turned and walked away without another word, her hands shaking from the rush of adrenaline. Each step took her further down the path of war against her own family - a war she had carefully planned through months of treachery. There was no going back now, or she would lose her freedom forever.

Pushing aside her doubts, Isabella slipped back into the night, her mind racing with backup plans in case the Morettis could not be trusted. Or if any part of her secret plan fell apart before she could take control.

After tonight, nothing would ever be the same. She prayed she was ready for whatever consequences came.

The sound of the suppressed rifle bullet cut through the pre-dawn stillness like thunder. Too late, Salvatore Corleone's bodyguards reacted, shouting and running around their fallen leader. 

Isabella watched from her bedroom window, her heart pounding, as the guards surrounded her father's body. Blood spread quickly across his white shirt, with no hope of stopping it.

She had done it, put into motion the end of the old leaders, ready or not. She felt sickened by her victory even as she tasted the triumph in the air. 

Was this what winning felt like? If so, it tasted much more bitter than she imagined.

But there was no time for doubt or mourning. The fight had only begun, and the Morettis would mobilize for another attack soon. Once her brother Alessandro heard of their father's killing, he would come for her with a vengeance no matter their family ties.

If Isabella had any hope of surviving this storm of violence, she would need to be three steps ahead, untouchable, and resolved in a way her father never let her be. The only heir worthy of inheriting the full brutality of what the Corleone Family had become.

"ISABELLA!?" 

Her heart stopped as her brother Marco's frantic voice roared from downstairs. In all her careful planning, she had not considered Marco's unpredictable response.

"Isabella, get down here now!" Marco yelled, closer now. Too close. "Something happened to Father, I need you," he yelled.

Instead of hiding, an impulse made Isabella go back to the window. Perhaps she needed to see the full destruction she had caused. Or maybe it was simply punishment for her heinous crime.

"He's b-been hit," one guard stammered in shock. "Sniper fire, I think. He's still breathing but bad, we need medics now!"

Isabella strained to hear Marco's response over the shouting and commotion. But there was no mistaking his scream of denial - an inhuman roar that raised the hairs on her neck. 

"No...NO! Not like this, after everything!" Marco's voice was shattered, grieving in a way Isabella could not understand. "I won't lose you too, old man..."

Finally, he came into view, hunched over their father's bloody body, desperately trying to stop the bleeding by pressing his bare hands on the wound. 

He was openly weeping, his eyes screwed shut in torment as sobs shook his powerful frame. In that moment, her ruthless young brother looked not like the violent man she knew, but like a child, frantically trying to hold onto the one stable thing in his shattered world. The one constant in their broken family's legacy.

Something hot pricked Isabella's eyes as she watched, a spike of guilt reminding her that her sins went beyond just killing their father. 

Perhaps she had underestimated the wider impacts of her actions. How alliances would shatter and remake themselves instantly. 

But she could not turn back now. Not unless she resigned herself to a lifetime trapped under her brother's control, always at the mercy of others' whims. Her path forward was clear, even if the human cost would be messier than expected.

The wail of approaching sirens jolted Isabella back to reality. She quickly retreated from the window, thinking of how to survive. As much as she wanted to witness these events to the end, she could not be discovered before she secured her power.