Chapter 3

The words fell, and the air seemed to be sucked dry.

Luca looked at me, his eyes cold.

The silence hung between us like a bowstring stretched to breaking point, humming soundlessly.

Camilla's voice broke the silence.

"But... Isabella, can't you think about Luca's position? After all... you've been here all these years with nothing to show for it, and the family gossip has never stopped. As the heir, don't you feel any of the pressure Luca's under?"

These words were like a key, precisely unlocking Luca's tightly guarded defenses.

He took a deep breath, and when his gaze shifted to Camilla, it carried a kind of relief.

"Camilla's right." He leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "Isabella, you're always caught up in your own emotions and so-called 'dignity.' But have you ever thought about my pressure, the family's future? These things are far heavier and far more important than personal feelings."

This was his cold survival code.

For seven years, he'd worked tirelessly to carve these rules into my bones.

Like five years ago, when he insisted I go to the docks to "handle" that shipment of questionable cargo—while I was pregnant.

On the way, his rivals ambushed me.

I was severely injured and unconscious for three days and nights.

When I woke up, I'd lost not only the baby but also any chance of ever becoming a mother.

I cried for an entire week. My eyes developed conjunctivitis. He only comforted me by saying, "If we're not meant to have children, then we don't need them. I just need you safe by my side."

Back then, I thought we really didn't need a child to strengthen our bond.

But later I understood—he'd sacrificed me and our child to secure another dock.

Now I understood even more clearly: it wasn't that he didn't want an heir. He just didn't want anything to do with me.

I elegantly dabbed my lips with my napkin, my gaze sweeping past Camilla before settling on Luca's face.

"Luca, if only you'd been this thoughtful five years ago."

Luca met my eyes, shock flooding his expression.

He clearly never expected that the wife who'd been compliant for seven years would, in this moment, stand in opposition to him for the first time.

I continued. "I won't be taking care of any children. But you two go ahead and have them. An heir who can cement two family alliances is worth more than any empty sentiment, isn't it, Luca? Congratulations on closing your most profitable deal yet."

I watched Luca's knuckles go white around his wine glass, watched Camilla's smile freeze instantly.

That was better. Why pretend this was about warmth and affection?

We all knew perfectly well this was nothing but a naked transaction—a child for shares.

As I turned to leave the dining room, my back was ramrod straight.

The sound of glass shattering on the floor and his furious shout followed me. I pretended not to hear.

Back in that storage room they'd assigned me, I locked the door behind me and slid down against the cold wood.

The air smelled faintly of mildew. Besides a narrow bed and an old wooden chair, there was nothing.

But somehow, this cramped space made me feel a measure of safety.

I don't know when the tears started sliding from the corners of my eyes.

I shouldn't be sad. Those warm moments had only existed because I was her substitute.

I opened my laptop. An email from the Zurich institute appeared like a lifeline.

The director had attached a note: [Ticket purchased. Welcome aboard.]

The flight was scheduled for next week's anniversary.

Perfect. This house had no place for me anyway. Using that day to bury the past couldn't be more fitting.

Wiping my tears, I began cataloging my assets.

Not jewelry, but seven years' worth of transaction records I'd secretly collected—enough to seriously damage Luca Martini's gray empire.

This wasn't about revenge. It was my insurance policy for staying alive after I left.

Then I inventoried everything in my name—my mother's family inheritance, copyright royalties from my published papers, several investment accounts he'd tossed at me as "pocket money" but never checked on.

The numbers were staggering, enough to start over anywhere.

Suddenly, Luca's voice came from behind me without warning—

"Zurich?"

"What are you going to Zurich for?"