Chapter 2

(Isabella POV)

My phone screen lit up in the darkness like a snake's forked tongue.

It was Erin Blake.

She'd sent another "trophy" photo—this time a screenshot of a chat.

She wore a tacky black lace bunny outfit, sitting slumped on the floor, eyes glazed as she looked at the camera.

The message was to Gabriel: [If Master arrives within twenty minutes, little bunny is all yours.]

Below it, Gabriel's familiar black profile picture replied: [Wait for me.]

I turned off the screen and closed my eyes, trying to suppress the strangling pain in my chest. I thought after seeing so much, I should be numb by now.

But every time, the pain felt as fresh as the first moment I discovered his betrayal.

That night, Gabriel didn't come home.

My phone buzzed every hour with new photos from Erin—used condoms, disheveled sheets, and her taunting messages: [He took me all night. Have you ever gotten that treatment?]

Meanwhile, I began systematically erasing all traces of my existence.

Photos, letters—everything that could burn, I burned. Then I dragged out a large trunk from storage. Inside were all the birthday gifts Gabriel had given me over ten years.

A handwritten love letter at fifteen, clumsy but sincere. Crystal shoes at eighteen, saying we'd walk the future together. The pink diamond tiara at twenty, calling me his eternal princess. The ring he personally designed at twenty-two, promising to marry me when I came of age...

Expressionless, I packed everything up and listed it on a secondhand marketplace, pricing it all at $9.99. Free shipping.

Priceless memories deserved nothing more.

Everything sold out quickly. When someone came to pick up the items, the door was violently pushed open.

Gabriel burst in, cold fury radiating from him, grabbing my wrist. His voice shook: "Bella! You sold everything I gave you?! What does this mean? Are you leaving me? Did I do something wrong? Tell me and I'll change! I'll change!"

He looked terrified, like a child about to be abandoned.

I looked at him calmly: "How did you find out?"

"It's all over the news! People are saying the Godfather Rossi's fiancée is selling off her engagement gifts!" He held me tightly. "Don't leave me, Bella. I can't live without you..."

I slowly pushed him away, my expression calm: "It's not what you think. I just didn't like them anymore, so I sold them. Besides, we're getting married soon. Why would I leave? Unless... you did something to betray me?"

He immediately swore, his eyes earnest: "No! Baby, you know how much I love you!"

I forced a smile: "If there's nothing, why panic? I'm tired. Going to rest now."

I turned and left, feeling his panicked gaze boring into my back.

Let him panic. Compared to the pain he'd given me, this was nothing.

The next day, the "cleanup service" middleman sent a message: [Target body double ready, located in City Morgue third freezer. Facial reconstruction and surface feature match at 98.7%. Please confirm within 24 hours, or backup plan will be initiated.]

98.7%. A near-perfect number. They were professionals, all right.

I replied with a brief location—a bar in the Brooklyn docks area, the back door.

There, a silent man smelling of motor oil and faint blood pressed the keys to an unmarked van into my hand.

I drove that beat-up vehicle toward the city morgue. New York at night—neon lights couldn't illuminate every corner, just like Gabriel's halo couldn't hide the darkness in his bones.

The morgue air was cold, carrying disinfectant and something deeper, unspeakable.

The attendant was expressionless, as if I wasn't here to view a body that would become my "double," but just another piece of cargo.

The zipper was slowly pulled open. A face was exposed under the cold white light.

Even mentally prepared, my breath still caught.

Too similar. Not just the facial contours, but even that small, unremarkable mole on the neck—the one I'd once considered removing—had been precisely replicated.

The body's bloating and pallor were perfectly treated to match "drowned after jumping in the sea" characteristics after several days.

Perfect. So perfect it was chilling.

Even someone as suspicious as Gabriel, who'd seen countless bodies and deaths, would probably fail to notice anything amiss in the face of overwhelming grief and "ironclad evidence."

"Good enough." My voice sounded hoarse in the empty morgue.

The middleman nodded and pulled up the zipper. Deal complete. My "death" had entered its countdown.

Leaving the main hospital building, I deliberately took a detour, wanting to exit through the side door to avoid possible surveillance.

Passing through the maternity ward corridor, I froze as if under a spell.

Through the bright glass window, I saw them.