"Why are you still up?"

The hairs on my neck stood on end.

But when Vincent walked toward me, his eyes held a rare, calculated gentleness.

I kept my face a placid mask.

"Couldn't sleep."

He sat beside me, reaching out to pull me into his arms.

"I went too far tonight." Vincent kissed my forehead. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that in front of everyone."

"It's fine," I said, gently pushing him away. "I understand you have to protect the family's image."

"No," he insisted, taking my hand. "Isabella, you're important to me. More important than anyone."

More important than anyone?

Including Sophia?

"I got you something." Vincent pulled a velvet box from his pocket.

Inside was a diamond necklace that could buy a house.

"Vincent, this is too much..."

"Try it on." He fastened it around my neck himself. "My wife deserves the best."

In the mirror, the diamonds glittered, cold against my skin.

My heart was colder.

"I'm sorry, Isabella," he murmured against my hair. "I know how much those designs meant to you. But your hand… it's over. For the sake of peace in this family, just let them go."

There it was.

The real reason for this show of affection.

"Tonight is just for us," he said, leading me toward the bathroom. "I've neglected you."

"You've been busy. I understand." My body trembled with revulsion, but I let him lead me.

"No, it's my fault." Vincent turned to face me as steam filled the room. "Isabella, I love you. I want you to know that."

He said it with such sincerity, it would have made me weep if I didn't know the truth.

"I love you too," I managed, the words tasting like poison.

He turned on the shower, warm water cascading over us.

"Remember our first time in here?" he asked, his eyes soft with memory. "You were so nervous you could barely let go."

"I remember."

Back then, I thought I'd found my soulmate.

How naive I was.

"Isabella, no matter what happens, I will always protect you," he stroked my face. "You're my wife. No one can hurt you."

Except you, I thought, a silent, bitter laugh catching in my throat.

I fought back the bile and let him have his way with me one last time.

The next day was Don Antonio's 80th birthday party at the family estate.

All the core members of the family were there.

I wore the gown Vincent had chosen and played the part of the dutiful wife on his arm.

"Isabella, you look stunning," the old Don said, kissing my hand. "Vincent is a lucky man."

"Thank you, Godfather."

Halfway through the party, I excused myself.

As I passed the study, I heard Vincent's voice.

"Godfather, how is Sophia?"

"She's four months along, the baby is healthy," Don Antonio replied. "When are you planning to deal with the Isabella situation?"

My heart stopped.

"I'll make Isabella disappear after Sophia gives birth," Vincent said, his voice quiet but laced with deadly resolve. "Then I'll make Sophia the true Mrs. Torrino."

"And the other child?"

"Sophia's child will be my heir," Vincent said without a flicker of hesitation. "As for Isabella... she's served her purpose."

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

This cold, ruthless man was the same one who had whispered lies of love to me just last night.

So that's all I was.

A placeholder.

A tool to be discarded.

And Sophia... pregnant with his child.

He didn’t know my own plan was already in motion.

Just two more days, I thought, a sliver of ice forming around my heart.

Just two more days.

The yacht party after the main event was Vincent's favorite way to entertain.

The family yacht cruised across the dark, choppy waters of Lake Michigan.

I stood alone at the stern, watching the city lights recede.

"Isabella, what are you doing out here?"

Sophia appeared behind me, wearing a tight dress that did little to hide the slight curve of her belly.

I can't believe I didn't see it before.

"Enjoying the view," I said, not turning to face her.

She came to stand beside me.

“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” She leaned against the railing, then pretended to stumble. “Whoa, careful. This railing’s a bit loose.”

As she said it, she grabbed my arm.

"Help! Isabella is trying to jump!" she screamed, her voice piercing the night.

Before I could react, she shoved me with all her strength.

The icy water swallowed me whole.

I broke the surface, gasping, and saw Sophia had "accidentally" fallen in too.

"Vincent! Help us!" she thrashed, a perfect damsel in distress.

Vincent and the others rushed to the deck. "Get them out of there!" he roared.

He dove in, but he swam straight for Sophia.

"Sophia! I've got you!" he yelled, pulling her into a tight embrace. "It's okay, I'm here!"

I was less than thirty feet away, screaming his name. "Vincent! Help me!"

He didn't even look back.

A lifeboat eventually pulled all three of us out.

Vincent held Sophia tightly, his face frantic with worry.

"Is the baby okay? Are you hurt?" he demanded of the private doctor.

"We need to get her to a hospital."

"Turn the boat around! Back to the harbor, now!" Vincent commanded.

No one asked if I was okay.

No one cared that I had almost drowned.

In Vincent's world, only Sophia and her baby mattered.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a VIP hospital room.

A nurse left after checking my vitals.

I kept my eyes closed, feigning unconsciousness, and listened.

"Sophia and the baby are both fine, but she needs rest," the doctor said from the hallway.

"Thank God," Vincent breathed. "Give her the best care, whatever it takes."

"And Mrs. Torrino? She swallowed a lot of water, she has a mild lung infection..."

"She'll live," Vincent cut him off impatiently. "Focus on Sophia."

A pause.

"Mr. Torrino, there's something else about Mrs. Torrino's condition."

"What is it?"

"She's pregnant. About twelve weeks along."

The world went silent.

I opened my eyes, my hand flying to my flat stomach in disbelief.

A baby.

Our baby.

"Are you sure?" Vincent's voice trembled.

"Positive. Congratulations, sir."

Another long silence.

Then, his voice returned, cold as the grave.

"After the child is born, I want her gone."

"Sir?" The doctor sounded shocked.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" Vincent's voice was lethal.

"Once that baby is delivered, handle the situation. Make Isabella Torrino disappear."

Tears slid down my temples as I let out a soft, deliberate cough.

Vincent's entire demeanor shifted.

He burst through the door, his face a mask of concern, clutching a bouquet of my favorite white roses. "Isabella, you're awake?"

I kept my expression blank, as if I'd heard nothing.

"How are you feeling? The doctor said you and the baby are both fine." He sat on the edge of the bed, taking my hand.

"We're having a baby," I said, meeting his eyes. "Are you happy?"

"Of course." He kissed the back of my hand. "This is a miracle."

A miracle he planned to orphan.

"Vincent, I love you," I whispered, pulling him into a hug. "No matter what, I'll always trust you."

His body stiffened for a fraction of a second. "I love you too, Isabella. Always."

Always. The word was a joke on his lips.

The next day, a scandal erupted.

The headline on Art Weekly's cover was a bombshell: "GENIUS OR FRAUD? SOPHIA MARTINEZ ACCUSED OF PLAGIARISM!"

I sat in the living room, watching the news report.

"An anonymous source alleges many of Sophia Martinez's signature works were stolen from acclaimed artist Isabella Torrino, who has been unable to create since a tragic accident three years ago..."

Vincent stormed down the stairs, his face a thundercloud.

"Did you do this?" He grabbed my shoulders. "Did you leak this?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Isabella! Are you going to keep playing the innocent?" he shook me. "Do you have any idea the trouble you've caused this family?"

"If the work is mine, why can't I say so?" I shoved him away. "Or are you afraid of the truth?"

Crack!

He slapped me again.

"Enough! You will not say another goddamn word about this!"

I held my burning cheek, refusing to let him see my tears.

That afternoon, Vincent held an emergency press conference in our living room, packed with reporters.

Sophia sat on the sofa, looking like a fragile, wronged angel.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I've called you here to address a malicious rumor," Vincent began, his tone grave. "The accusations of plagiarism against Sophia Martinez are utterly baseless."

"Mr. Torrino, what about your wife's claims?" a reporter shouted.

Vincent took a deep breath, his eyes flicking up to where I stood on the landing.

"Isabella... has been mentally unstable for some time," he said, his voice heavy with false sorrow. "She suffers from delusions. A nerve injury three years ago made it impossible for her to create."

The room erupted. "Are you saying your wife is mentally ill?"

"I hate to admit it, but... yes. She needs professional help. I tried to keep this private, but now her condition is hurting innocent people."

My legs gave out and I sank to the steps.

He was telling the whole world I was crazy.

Sophia looked up, tears streaming down her face.

"I understand Isabella's pain," she sobbed. "But I cannot be slandered. These works are mine, and I have the drafts to prove it."

"Will you release that evidence?"

"Of course," Vincent said. "We will provide everything. Sketches, notes, timestamps. All of it."

I knew the "evidence" was a lie.

But who would believe me now?

After the conference, a smear campaign began.

"Isabella Torrino's tragic breakdown..."

"Poor Sophia, targeted by a madwoman..."

"Mafia wife's psychosis: from princess to pariah."

My phone exploded with calls from friends, colleagues, strangers.

I turned it off and locked myself away.