Chapter 8

Late at night, Alex came home, exhausted.

He took off his dew-dampened coat and tossed it carelessly on the sofa. He loosened his tie, walked to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a large glass of whiskey, and drained it in one gulp.

"She's at the hospital." He spoke, his voice hoarse. "Signs of a threatened miscarriage. Needs bed rest and observation for a few days."

I said nothing, just watched him quietly.

This silence seemed to enrage him.

"Why, Isabella?" he asked. "You knew her condition, knew how emotionally unstable she is. Why did you still provoke her? Even... put your hands on her?"

Here to demand answers.

As expected.

I still said nothing. I picked up the tablet on the coffee table and opened a video file.

Before leaving the restaurant, I had already contacted the manager to request a copy of the surveillance footage to prove my innocence.

The screen began to play.

High-definition, timestamped surveillance footage. The angle perfectly covered the spiral staircase at the end of the seventh-floor corridor.

In the footage, how Selena grabbed me, then fell on her own—the entire cause and effect was crystal clear, irrefutable.

Alex's gaze was riveted to the screen.

The evidence was ironclad.

"There must be some misunderstanding. Her condition hasn't been good lately. Maybe she's having psychological issues too." He struggled to speak, his voice dry.

Look at that.

Even with evidence right before his eyes, his first instinct was still to make excuses for her.

"Maybe she's... too sensitive, having hallucinations, or... just lost control of her emotions for a moment. She didn't really want to hurt you, just wanted attention..."

"Sensitive? Hallucinations? Lost control?" I slowly repeated those words.

"Isabella, she's a sick person! And she's carrying my child! Do you really have to hold this against her now? Can't you be more generous and understand her situation?"

Understand.

That word again. Over the past month, even the past ten years, it had been like a spell, constantly demanding I shrink my boundaries, swallow all my grievances, to accommodate his world and his needs.

I looked at him, at this man I had spent my entire youth looking up to, and suddenly felt utterly exhausted.

I tugged at the corner of my mouth, revealing a smile devoid of warmth. "Perhaps. I'm being too petty."

He set down the tablet, trying to ease the atmosphere. "Alright, this matter... I'll talk to Selena about it. The most important thing now is," he cleared his throat, his tone regaining some of its usual composure, "our wedding is the day after tomorrow. I don't want any more mishaps. Everything must proceed smoothly."

There was actually still expectation in his eyes.

"Your business trip can wait until after the wedding. The honeymoon... I remember you mentioned wanting to go to Santorini? When you're back, we'll go."

He said it so naturally, as if the accusations and evidence from moments ago had never existed, as if we were still a couple about to walk down the aisle, our future full of plans.

I met his gaze and spoke calmly. "Alright. Everything will go smoothly."

Alex seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. "Get some rest early," he said, giving me one last look before turning and walking toward the master bedroom.

The door closed.

I sat on the sofa, staring at the darkened screen, suddenly feeling this night was as quiet as a joke.

The day after tomorrow.

They would be waiting for a bride at the church.

Everything would go smoothly.

Just not in the direction he imagined.

The show was finally about to begin.