Chapter 5

(Isabella POV)

The fever passed like a storm, leaving behind an exhausted but abnormally clear shell.

I woke in the huge bed. Gabriel wasn't beside me. The air held the scent of his cologne mixed with a faint trace of Erin's sickeningly sweet perfume. The smell made my stomach turn.

The wedding was in three days.

New York media had begun the buildup, calling this wedding the "union of the century," "the dark world's compromise with the light."

How ironic.

I got up, barefoot on the cold marble floor, and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. New York in the morning light was like a huge, precision-running machine, and I was just a part about to be replaced.

When Gabriel returned, his face showed barely perceptible irritation, quickly masked by his usual tender facade.

"Baby, you look much better."

He tried to embrace me. I shifted slightly away.

"Take me out," I said, my voice unexpectedly calm. "To the ocean."

He paused, brow furrowing: "The ocean? Bella, you never liked water. You said it made you uneasy."

"Suddenly want to see it." I looked out the window, not giving him a chance to read my eyes. "Some things need a last look."

Perhaps "last look" triggered some sensitive nerve in him. He was silent for a few seconds, then nodded: "All right. I'll take you."

He drove himself, that black Maybach like another mobile fortress. On the road, he kept one hand on the wheel, trying to cover my hand with the other.

I didn't pull away, but I didn't respond either, just let his hand rest there like a piece of cold metal.

He seemed relieved, beginning to talk about inconsequential memories, trying to recapture the tenderness we once shared.

"Remember, Bella? On your sixteenth birthday, I took you to watch the sunset at the harbor. You said that ocean looked so lonely..." He reminisced, his tone deliberately nostalgic.

I listened, my heart like dead water. These memories were once my most precious treasures. Now they were just proof of my stupidity.

The more he said, the firmer my determination to leave.

The car finally stopped at a secluded coastline. The salty sea breeze hit my face, carrying late autumn's chill.

We stood side by side on the beach, watching the gray sea merge with the leaden sky in the distance, waves slowly and powerfully beating against rocks like a giant breathing in sleep.

"Bella," he turned, facing me, eyes deep, trying to see into my soul. "No matter what happens, I'll protect you. I swear."

I nearly laughed. Protect me? The greatest harm came from him.

Just then, his phone buzzed inappropriately, breaking this false tranquility.

He glanced at the screen, his expression instantly changing—that mixture of desire and restlessness I knew too well. Every time Erin summoned him, he wore this look.

He declined the call. It stubbornly rang again.

"Sorry, Bella," he finally said apologetically, that apology floating on the surface. "The docks... the situation is more complicated than expected. I have to handle it. You finish looking at the sea and head home early. I'll leave the driver for you. There's still a lot to prepare before the wedding."

He kissed my forehead, cold and perfunctory, like stamping a document, then turned without hesitation and got into another car that had appeared, vanishing into the distance.

I stood there, wind ruffling my hair, watching his car become a black dot on the horizon.

Turning back to face the ocean, the waves seemed to amplify, each one pounding the shore with deafening roars.

I pulled out my phone and sent the middleman a brief message: [Tonight. Execute.]

The reply was instant: [Confirmed. Countdown begins.]

I looked at the turbulent sea, at the foam crashing on the rocks. This would be the last scene everyone would remember of Isabella Costa.

But for me, it was the starting line of a new life.

The driver waited in the distance. I told him I wanted to be alone a while longer, had him return to the car.

As twilight fell, dyeing sky and sea blood red, I walked toward the reef area.

There, hidden in shadow, another van waited. The middleman stood by the door, silent.

I got in. The body was already positioned. I took off my coat and jewelry, placing them in designated spots on the reef, creating traces of struggle.

Everything went according to plan with cold precision.

As the van started, I took one last look at that coastline through the rearview mirror.

Twilight swallowed everything. Waves would continue their tireless pounding, erasing all traces.

Isabella Costa died here.

And I was finally, truly free.