Chapter 4

(Isabella POV)

My "birthday party" was turned by Gabriel into a grand event for New York's underworld.

He reserved the entire ballroom at the Waldorf Astoria. Crystal chandeliers illuminated every corner, along with the real or fake blessings on the guests' faces.

He took my hand, displaying me to those family heads, politicians, and Wall Street wolves—his "beloved," his future "Mrs. Rossi."

He embraced me publicly, whispering in my ear that I was the only pure thing in his bloody world, the ultimate destination of all his ambitions, the only mother of his future children.

His performance could win an Oscar.

The party finally ended in false chaos. He held my waist intimately, tenderness and affection almost drowning.

Just then, one of his personal bodyguards, the scarred Ricardo, approached quickly and whispered something in his ear.

I felt Gabriel's arm around me tighten instantly, then quickly release.

A flash of the sharpness belonging to "the Godfather" crossed his eyes, along with an anxious eagerness to escape.

"Bella, sorry," he turned to me, his face back to that devoted mask. "There's a tricky 'shipping' problem at the Long Island docks. I need to handle it personally. You go home first, get some rest. I'll be back as soon as I can."

He planted a cold kiss on my forehead, like completing a programmed routine, then turned without hesitation, disappearing with Ricardo and others through the hotel's revolving doors.

This time, I didn't obediently get in the car he'd arranged for me to go home.

A strong, almost instinctive impulse drove me.

I told the driver I suddenly wanted to walk and had him leave. Then I hailed a cab, giving the address of the Rossi family estate on Long Island.

I knew there was a family gathering there tonight, but Gabriel had told me it was a "pure male members meeting" to discuss "business"—women weren't appropriate.

The taxi was stopped at the estate's imposing gates. I showed my ID. The guard clearly recognized me, hesitated, then let me through.

I had the taxi leave and walked in on foot. The estate was vast. I avoided the main drive, following the shadows to the side of the main house.

Through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, I saw a scene that froze my blood before setting it ablaze.

The warm, luxurious main hall was brilliantly lit, figures moving about.

What "male meeting"? Gabriel's parents, those uncles who always looked at me like I was merchandise, those cousins who were polite to my face but God knows what they said behind my back—almost every core member of the Rossi family was there.

And sitting in the place of honor by the fireplace was Erin Blake!

She wore an expensive scarlet gown, her swollen belly impossible to hide. Like a true queen, she accepted the compliments and smiles of those around her.

Gabriel stood behind her, hand naturally resting on the sofa back, leaning down to listen to her speak, his face showing relaxed contentment.

Even more glaring was his mother—the woman who had once held my hand, placing a passed-down jade bracelet on my wrist, saying she only recognized me as her daughter-in-law—now smiling as she carefully placed what looked like an older, more valuable gemstone bracelet on Erin's wrist.

A cousin even intimately reached out to touch Erin's belly, laughing loudly: "Looks like the real future 'Mrs. Rossi' is about to give us a little heir!"

Agreeing laughter echoed around.

In that moment, all the pieces came together. This wasn't a simple affair.

This was a carefully planned, family-wide conspiracy!

I was just a front, displayed publicly to stabilize the situation, perhaps with some other utility value I wasn't yet aware of.

While Erin and that child carrying Rossi blood in her womb were what they internally recognized as the true future and hope.

I wasn't betrayed by one person. I was treated like a disposable idiot by an entire huge, cold, profit-driven dark family!

A wave of intense nausea surged up my throat. I staggered backward, fleeing that suffocating place.

Back in the cold apartment, I fell ill, burning with fever, drifting in and out of consciousness for an entire day.

Gabriel seemed genuinely worried. He stayed by my bedside, personally changing cold compresses, feeding me medicine. The concern in his eyes looked incredibly real, even carrying a trace of barely perceptible... guilt?

But on that night when my fever subsided slightly and my consciousness cleared a bit, I lay in the burning hot bed, body weak.

The bedroom door wasn't fully closed, left slightly ajar. From the end of the hallway came suppressed, familiar mixed gasps and whispers of a man and woman.

"...Don't... Gabriel... your Bella is still sleeping inside..."

"Shh... she has a bad fever, she can't hear... It's been so many days without touching you, don't you miss me? Hmm?"

Then came the rustle of fabric, the dull thud of bodies against the wall, and wet kissing sounds.

I lay there, my body's burning and my heart's ice forming a sharp contrast.

I clearly heard my fiancé and that woman carrying his child, just meters away from me, entwined.

The last thread of attachment to this man, to this world, completely extinguished.

My body still suffered from illness, but my heart had died completely, hard and cold as Siberian permafrost.