His Merciless Redemption novel Chapter 123

Chapter 123

Isabella’s POV

The next morning, when I reached the office, Chiara wanted to see me right away.

So that was where I found myself as soon as I’d gotten my usual up of coffee.

Chiara’s office had always been one of my favorite spaces in the building, after my own office, of course.

Tall windows let in Florence’s early morning sunlight, casting soft shadows across shelves packed with exhibition catalogues, old mockups, and carefully labeled binders from projects that had once felt just as impossible as this one had in its earliest days. The air smelled faintly of coffee and paper, a scent that was both familiar, and grounding.

Work smelled like this.

I took a seat across from her, setting my bag down, feeling my shoulders loosen as she smiled at me.

Chiara slid another coffee towards me without asking. “You look like you haven’t slept.”

I smiled faintly. I hadn’t shared a lot of my personal life with her ever since Dominic had come back into the picture, and she hadn’t pushed, but she definitely noticed enough to know when things weren’t going well.

Last night, after the conversation I’d had with Dominic, sleep hadn’t been easy. I’d tossed and turned for hours before finally getting some shut eye. And it showed in the bags under my eyes that looked more prominent than usual.

“I slept. Just not enough,” I told her.

She laughed quietly and opened her laptop. “Fair. Alright, progress update. Let’s run through everything we have for the Russo project so far.”

As she began listing timelines, confirmations, and finalized logistics, I listened, nodding along. I knew all of that already. I’d been the one who had sent over the final presentation to her a few days back. But she had a habit of speaking everything out loud once before moving forward, so I let her, my gaze drifting briefly to the city outside the window.

Florence looked impossibly calm from up here. Golden. Timeless.

It struck me suddenly, harder than I expected, that my professional life was thriving.

Despite everything.

Despite the chaos my personal life had become since Dominic had walked back into it, dragging unresolved grief and old wounds behind him like ghosts that refused to stay buried.

This project was mine because of all the hard work I’d put in since coming to Florence.

I’d built my reputation piece by piece over the last five years. Brick by brick. Idea by idea. When I’d been alone. When I’d been afraid. When there had been no safety net, no powerful name to lean on.

Just me.

“And the Russos want the preview to be comprehensive,” Chiara said, pulling me back. “Stakeholders, partners, press. The works.”

I nodded slowly. We usually always did previews for projects like this. As per Chiara’s orders, I’d sent a few ideas about the preview over to the Russo team a while back, everything from simple and elegant, to loud and luxurious. Looks like they’d made their decision and wanted to go all out. “That makes sense

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Chapter 128

She studied me for a second. “You okay with that?”

“Yes,” I said, without hesitation.

And I meant it.

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There was a time not that long ago when the thought of standing in the same room as Dominic, his family, his world, would have made my stomach knot with anxiety. When I would’ve wondered how I fit. Whether I did at all.

But this was my project, my work.

Here, I knew exactly where I stood.

This wasn’t his space.

It was mine.

“If they want it all,” I continued, “then we do it properly. Full preview. No half-measures.”

Chiara smiled. “That’s what I like to hear.”

She turned the laptop towards me, showing a draft guest list, press schedule, and speaking order. My name sat neatly at the top.

Isabella Bianchi – Director of Curation.

The sight of it made something warm bloom in my chest.

I’d earned that..

“I still can’t believe how far this has come,” Chiara said. “Florence is just the beginning. Milan, Paris, New York… this project is going to put you on a completely different level.”

I inhaled slowly.

A few weeks ago, hearing that might have scared me.

Now, it steadied me.

“This is what I’ve been working towards,” I said quietly. “For years”

And it was true.

I thought about the woman I had been five years ago, pregnant, terrified, abandoned, rebuilding her life from rubble. I thought about the nights I’d stayed up late, Mateo asleep beside me, drafting proposals, refining concepts, teaching myself things no one had ever bothered to teach me.

I hadn’t waited for anyone to save me.

I’d saved myself.

“What about opening remarks?” Chiara asked, pulling another document up. “Do you want to do them solo, or-”

“Solo,” I said gently, but firmly.

She nodded immediately. “Done.”

No debate. No explanation required.

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