Chapter 2

Isabella's POV

Three days later, Brooklyn Cemetery.

A steady drizzle fell as a crowd dressed in black gathered around Marco's headstone. I stood in the front row, wearing a black dress, my heart numb and hollow.

Marco's photo looked blurred in the rain—the man who had once protected me was gone forever.

"Such a shame, Marco Castellano dying so young," came fake condolences from behind me.

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. These people, these so-called "allies," had been watching my humiliation in that conference room just three days ago!

Footsteps approached from behind. Even without turning around, I knew who it was.

Alexander approached with two bodyguards. Rain drummed against his umbrella as he looked perfectly composed, as if Marco's death had nothing to do with him.

"Bella."

I didn't turn around. I couldn't, or I'd slap him.

"There's an important meeting tomorrow night," Alexander continued. "The Russians want to formally reconcile and end this pointless conflict. As the lady of the Moretti family, you need to attend."

What? Reconcile?

I slowly turned around, staring at this man I had once loved deeply. "What did you say?"

"Business is business, Bella," Alexander said matter-of-factly. "Marco's death is in the past. Now we need to look forward. Your presence will show everyone the unity and strength of the Moretti family."

I couldn't believe my ears. He wanted me to shake hands with my brother's killers?

"Go to HELL!" I shrieked. "Those people killed my brother! You want me to shake hands with them? Are you INSANE?"

Alexander's face immediately darkened. He grabbed my chin roughly, his nails nearly breaking the skin. "As the lady of the Moretti family, you will behave appropriately. This concerns our family's future, understand?"

"Let go of me!" I struggled, but he was too strong.

"Tomorrow night, eight o'clock, Four Seasons Hotel," he said coldly. "Dress nicely and act like a proper wife."

Then he released me and walked away.

I stood there, my cheek burning with pain. People around us whispered and pointed. Humiliation swallowed me whole.

That night, I was confined to the estate with nowhere to go.

I sat on the sofa, staring blankly at the dark night sky outside. The anger and despair in my heart burned like fire, making my whole body tremble.

The next day, I developed a fever.

High fever, burning all over, splitting headache. I curled up in bed, sweat soaking through my silk nightgown.

"Alexander, I'm sick," I called him, my voice weak as a whisper.

"Stop pretending, Bella," his voice was cold and merciless. "I'll send someone to pick you up at six."

"I'm really sick!" I was almost screaming. "I have a fever, everything hurts!"

"ENOUGH!" came his angry voice through the phone. "Stop the ACT!"

Then he hung up.

An hour later, a middle-aged man with glasses was brought in. Dr. Mitchell Harrison, Alexander's private physician.

"Let me take a look," the doctor sat by my bedside and took out a thermometer.

102.6°F.

"She does have a fever," the doctor frowned. "But this seems more like a stress response from psychological trauma. Have you experienced any major shocks recently?"

I laughed bitterly. Major shocks? My brother was dead, my husband had betrayed me—wasn't that major enough?

The doctor prescribed fever medication, then spoke with the bodyguards outside. I caught fragments of their conversation:

"The lady does have a fever, but it's more from psychological trauma. She needs rest and psychological treatment."

The bodyguard replied, "The boss says she's just acting."

The doctor sighed. "This isn't acting. Forcing her to attend the meeting could worsen her condition."

But no one cared about the doctor's advice.

That evening, I was forcibly dragged up and dressed in that blood-red evening gown. A makeup artist applied heavy makeup to cover my pale complexion.

In the mirror, I looked like an exquisite doll. But there was no life in my eyes.

The meeting was canceled. Not because of my illness, but because the Russians had a last-minute emergency.

Alexander was furious, but I only felt relief.

The third morning, I dragged my weak body into the bathroom. That's when I noticed some unusual symptoms.

Nausea, fatigue, and... my period was three weeks late.

No way...

I trembled as I pulled out a pregnancy test hidden in my makeup bag. I had bought it months ago when Alexander and I were still trying to have a child.

Two pink lines.

I was pregnant.

The pregnancy test slipped from my hands and clattered onto the marble floor.

No, no, NO! I couldn't be pregnant now! Not at a time like this!

I collapsed onto the cold floor, covering my face with my hands. Tears slipped through my fingers.

This child... Alexander's child... what was I supposed to do?

Just then, there was a soft sound from the bathroom window.

I looked up to see a familiar figure climbing in from the fire escape outside.

"Marcus?" I couldn't believe my eyes.

Marcus, our family's old butler—both Marco and I considered him family.

"Miss," Marcus's voice was hoarse, his eyes filled with pain. "I'm sorry I failed to protect Master Marco."

"Marcus!" I rushed to him, hugging this last surviving family member tightly. "Thank God you're alive!"

"Miss, I have to tell you the truth," Marcus looked around, confirming there were no listening devices, then lowered his voice. "About Alexander and the Russians."

My heart jumped. "What truth?"

Marcus gritted his teeth. "Alexander had a secret deal with the Russians all along. The whole thing was HIS plan!"

"What?" The words stuck in my throat.

"The Russians attack Master Marco, Alexander refuses aid, then eliminates the Russians in the name of 'revenge'..." Marcus closed his eyes in pain. "That way he becomes the hero who both avenged his wife and defended family honor. Two birds with one stone!"

The world stopped turning in that moment.

I felt dizzy and nearly fainted. "No... impossible... he loves me..."

"Miss!" Marcus grabbed my hands urgently. "You have to wake up! Alexander never loved you! You were just a pawn in his power game!"

Rage erupted like molten lava in my chest. "I'll KILL him! I'll tear that bastard apart with my bare hands!"

"No!" Marcus gripped my hands tightly. "Miss, you're no match for him! He has the support of all Five Families now—you'd just be throwing your life away!"

"Then what am I supposed to do?" I was completely panicked. "Just watch him get away with it?"

Marcus pulled a small vial from his jacket, containing a clear liquid. "This is military-grade fake death serum. After taking it, your vital signs will drop to minimum levels, making you appear dead. But it only lasts 48 hours."