Chapter 5

Twenty-four hours. I sat at my computer, repeatedly drafting and deleting emails to the Zurich institute.

How could I explain to the director that I was unexpectedly carrying the child of my soon-to-be ex-husband? My fingertips hovered over the keyboard, too heavy to press down.

My phone vibrated, interrupting my struggle.

A message from Luca, just one sentence: "Father requires your attendance at tonight's family dinner."

Leaving was the most resolute decision I'd ever made, but if anything could obstruct it, it was Luca's father.

Seven years ago, three days after my parents' funeral, old man Martini had personally brought me to this mansion, given me shelter, and given me what would prove to be a mistaken marriage.

This would be the last time.

Consider it repaying his kindness from back then.

I changed into formal wear, makeup flawless. The woman in the mirror looked dignified, calm, showing no trace of imminent departure. When I climbed into Luca's car, he only glanced at me once—no comment, no excess emotion.

The banquet was held in the old house's main hall. Crystal chandeliers glared blindingly bright, the air thick with cigar smoke, champagne, and the scent of power.

Before the banquet began, they gathered in customary conversation about topics I didn't understand.

In the past, I'd only needed to ignore them, but today their words stabbed into my ears like poisoned needles.

"Isabella." Luca's uncle Fabio tapped his wine glass with a fork, the grating sound cutting through false smiles. "Seven years now, and your belly's rarer than a papal blessing."

Snickering rippled around the table like serpents' tongues.

Another aunt spoke with contempt. "Indeed. You've been here seven years. A woman's most important duty is bearing heirs for the family. A hen that takes up space but lays no eggs—"

She paused, looking at me meaningfully, "—is of no use to the family."

Camilla gasped right on cue. "Don't say that... Isabella will be hurt..."

All eyes—probing, pitying, gleeful—fixed on me.

And Camilla? Face flushed, she knew she was the leading lady.

Even though the child in her belly was actually a bastard, they didn't know—this was the result of Luca's protection.

My chest felt crushed by a boulder, helplessly sinking back into my chair.

Last time, Isabella, I told myself. After tonight, you're done with this place forever.

Suddenly, Luca cleared his throat, as if salvaging my dignity. "Isabella is my father's approved and my legally wedded wife. As long as Father lives, there will be no second person in my wife's position."

He paused. "This is my promise to Father, and my commitment to this marriage. This topic ends here."

The moment he finished, Camilla's triumphant expression froze instantly.

The relatives who'd been piling on also went rigid, their smugness and contempt solidifying. The entire table fell into eerie silence.

I laughed softly, my gaze sweeping over Camilla's pale face. "What touching words."

He knew better than anyone that these seven years, I'd merely existed in an exquisite cage built of promises.

This so-called sole wife was nothing but a substitute to silence outside gossip.

He looked at me, fury seeming to kindle in his eyes. "Isabella, you—"

But Luca, I no longer care about your anger. Or rather, I truly don't need to care anymore.

In seven hours, I'll be completely severed from you.

Suddenly, the floor-to-ceiling window near the courtyard exploded violently!

Glass shards poured in like a rainstorm, accompanied by women's screams.

A round, black object trailing smoke was thrown through the breach, rattling and rolling across the smooth marble floor—

A grenade!

In the same instant the explosion sounded and shrapnel flew, I saw clearly—Luca, almost instinctively, pressed the screaming Camilla completely beneath him, his broad back creating a shield for her.

And that grenade trailing death's blue smoke, following his movement, rolled unerringly toward me.

"Madam! Get down!"

Massive force hit me from behind—Antonio!

Like a black shadow, he tackled me, covering my body with his, rolling violently under the heavy solid wood table.

"BOOM—!!!"

The deafening explosion swallowed all screams.

Blast waves, wood splinters, dust, the smell of blood... the world overturned in violent tremors.

My head struck something, sharp pain exploding.

I used all my strength to look toward Luca. He held Camilla in his arms like a treasure.

Boundless darkness, accompanied by the explosion's echoes, completely submerged me.

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a hospital bed.

My whole body felt dismantled, severe headache reminding me I was still alive.

"You're awake." The doctor turned to me. "You're approximately twelve weeks pregnant. The fetus is currently stable, but given your earlier fainting spell..."

Her pen scratched across the chart. "We need to keep you under observation for forty-eight hours."

She hesitated, glancing at the door. "Regarding your condition, I haven't yet informed your... companion."

I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "Please keep it that way."

The doctor had barely left when nurses' hushed gossip seeped through the curtain gap:

"Mr. Martini had Miss Valenti's entire suite redecorated... roses, champagne, everything. Since she was admitted, he hasn't left her side."

"What's surprising about that? Miss Valenti's from the Valenti family and carrying his heir—of course she's precious. You didn't see how he carried her into the hospital? Who could tell she'd only scraped some skin!"

"Ah, ten years together and still acting like that... unlike my husband..."

Their words cut deeper than blades. No doubt—they were discussing Luca and Camilla. He treated her like a treasure.

And I, his just-acknowledged sole wife, was merely a disposable sacrifice.

My phone buzzed. The institute director, confirming my itinerary. I confessed about the pregnancy.

He was genuinely happy for me. "Isabella, congratulations on this new chapter. I'll arrange housing and medical checkups. Someone will meet you at the airport. Don't worry about anything—we'll support you until the baby's born."

In that moment, I finally felt unburdened. For the first time, someone chose me for who I was, not for my position.

Five hours until boarding. I was discharged.

The first thing after leaving the hospital—I instructed my lawyer to delay delivering the divorce papers to Luca's estate by three days.

By then, I'd be in Zurich.

Let the all-powerful Luca Martini turn the world upside down, but his power had limits—and my child and I were about to become beyond his reach.

The envelope slid into the mailbox with a muted thud.

Seven years of marriage, lies, and loneliness, distilled into this single legal judgment.

The plane's engines began their low rumble.

My colleague Mike was still enthusiastically describing Zurich's weekend markets.

"When summer comes, the peaches there are sweet as sunshine!"

I pressed my palm against the cold window.

Goodbye to those photo albums where only I was ever smiling.

Goodbye to that gilded cage that never offered warmth.

Goodbye to seven years of misplaced devotion.

Goodbye, Luca.