Chapter 1

(Isabella POV)

"Miss Costa, please confirm this simulated death agreement. Target: You. Timeline: The wedding in seven days. Method: Jump into the sea, body condition must be identifiable. Sign here, and the process will begin."

I nodded without even reading the terms again, signing my name at the bottom—Isabella Costa.

The deal was done. My "death" in exchange for a real life.

……

Stepping out of that nondescript building, New York's chaos hit me full force. I pulled my coat tighter and walked home alone.

Looking up, the largest screen in Times Square was playing a video on loop that made my stomach turn.

Gabriel Rossi, down on one knee. The Godfather of New York's underworld, my former guardian angel, my future executioner.

On screen, his eyes were as devout as a believer's, his hand holding the ring—those same hands that could make opponents beg for mercy—actually trembling.

When the me in the video said "I do," the tears sliding down the corners of his eyes were crystal clear on the HD screen.

What a goddamn talented actor.

Two young women next to me hugged each other excitedly, almost screaming. "Oh my God! Gabriel Rossi is absolutely crazy about her!"

"Exactly! He's such a romantic! I heard they grew up together. At twenty, he got that legendary pink diamond made into a tiara for her. At twenty-three, when she was shot and the blood bank ran dry, he nearly drained himself to pull her back from death's door... Now he's marrying her! Is there any man more devoted than him?"

I lowered my head, hiding the mockery at the corner of my mouth.

A romantic? Yeah, the whole world thought Gabriel Rossi was crazy about me.

Who would've guessed that this man who supposedly held me in the palm of his hand had been hiding his mistress—that bitch Erin Blake—in various safe houses under his name for the past three years?

I remembered the night I discovered the truth.

He said he had to handle family "business," but I saw him at his usual underground club, in the VIP room. Through a crack in the door, I watched him entangled with Erin.

In that moment, my heart didn't just break—it felt like he'd shot it through with a .45.

Looking through those disgusting photos, I pathetically remembered when I was fifteen.

My parents—two worthless pieces of shit—were fighting over who didn't want me. Gabriel pushed open that broken door, took my hand, and told those bastards: "You don't want her? I do."

From that day on, he became my entire world. He took bullets for me, broke ribs for me. He remembered everything I needed when I was scared. Everyone around him said that when Boss Rossi was with me, he turned into a complete hopeless romantic...

When he slipped that wedding ring on my finger, he kissed me through tears, begging me never to leave him, saying he'd go insane without me.

He was the one who said he couldn't live without me, and now he was the one stabbing me in the heart.

Fine. I'd give him what he wanted. I'd leave, in the way he'd least expect.

I wiped away the traitorous moisture at the corner of my eye, about to move when a black Maybach screeched to a halt beside me. Gabriel's tall frame emerged from the back seat, striding over in a few quick steps, his face painted with perfectly calculated concern.

"Bella, I thought we agreed you'd wait at home? Once I finish handling this little mess, I was going to pick you up to try on wedding dresses." He habitually took my hand, discovering my fingertips were ice cold. He immediately stripped off his Italian tailored suit jacket and wrapped it around me. "Your hands are freezing. Trying to make me worry yourself sick?"

I said nothing, just looked at him quietly. The concern in his eyes looked so real.

I really didn't understand how someone could split their heart in two and act so convincingly with both halves.

Just as he was about to help me into the car, those two girls recognized us and ran over excitedly, asking for photos.

I managed a nod. Though Gabriel didn't enjoy these situations, he obediently wrapped his arm around my waist and smiled for the camera.

The girls kept thanking us, wishing us a lifetime together.

A lifetime? I looked up at him. He was looking down at me, a doting smile playing at his lips, as if to say "of course."

Only I knew that our road had reached its end.

In the bridal boutique, the staff rushed forward eagerly: "Miss Costa, Mr. Rossi has prepared one hundred wedding dresses for you. Please try on whichever you like."

I looked at Gabriel. He was looking down at his phone, that naked desire in his eyes—I'd only seen it in the bed photos of him and Erin.

Noticing my gaze, he quickly pocketed his phone and walked over, kissing my forehead apologetically: "Sorry, baby, there's an urgent family matter I need to handle. I'll leave the driver for you. After you try on the dresses, have him take you home."

He left hurriedly, getting into another car.

The staff asked tentatively, "Miss Costa, shall we start with the dress fittings now?"

I looked away and shook my head.

"No need. I don't need any of them."

After all, at the wedding, there would only be a "dead" bride's corpse.