Chapter 8

She kept walking.

“I need something from inside.”

“There are staff members who can do that.”

“I said come with me.”

I didn't move.

She turned around and walked back toward me, her expression slowly becoming amused.

“What?” she asked. “You're scared?”

“I don't feel well.”

She laughed under her breath. “You haven't felt well since the day you arrived here. Funny how you always seem to remember your injuries whenever I ask you to do something.”

“My shoulder is still bleeding.”

“Then don't look at it.”

“I don't want to go inside.”

Isabella stepped closer and lowered her voice.

“You know, Adeline, you really are spoiled. You've spent your entire life believing that everyone should protect you because you're Favio's wife. But you're not special here. If I tell you to do something, you do it.”

She grabbed my arm and pain shot through my shoulder, and I immediately winced.

“Let go.”

Instead, she tightened her grip.

“Stop acting so fragile. You're embarrassing yourself.”

She dragged me toward the morgue.

The moment the door opened, cold air hit my face, and my stomach turned. I instinctively pulled back but she shoved me through the doorway.

“You're my assistant. You should be willing to help me.”

I turned around, but she was already standing near the entrance with a strange smile on her face.

“Isabella, what are you doing?!”

She stepped backward. “I just wanted to see how brave my new assistant really is.”

My heart began pounding.

“Don't leave me here.”

She laughed.

“Why not? You survived the blood road, didn't you? You survived getting shot. You survived your little surgery without anesthesia. Surely you can survive a few hours in a morgue.”

“Isabella, please.”

She reached for the door.

“You're always telling everyone how strong you are. Here's your chance to prove it.”

“Wait!”

The door slammed shut.

I ran toward it and grabbed the handle, but it wouldn't open.

“Isabella!”

I started pounding against the door.

“Open the door!”

Her laughter came from the other side.

“Good luck, Adeline. Maybe the dead will keep you company better than Favio does.”

“Isabella! Please, open the door!”

“Try not to scream too much,” she called back. “Someone might actually think you're helpless.”

Then her footsteps disappeared.

I kept banging on the door until my injured shoulder screamed with pain. Eventually, I had no choice but to stop.

I backed away and looked around the room.

It was freezing. The lights were painfully bright, and the smell made my stomach turn. I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to keep my breathing steady, but the fear slowly became too much.

I sat down against the wall, shaking.

I covered my face as tears slipped between my fingers.

I stayed there for hours.

I cried until my throat hurt. I begged Isabella to come back. I begged anyone who might hear me to open the door. I even screamed until my voice became hoarse, but nobody came.

After nearly four hours, I finally heard voices outside.

“Is anyone inside?”

I immediately forced myself to stand.

“Help! Please! I'm here!”

The door opened, and two university security guards stared at me in surprise.

“Donna Adeline?”

I nodded weakly.

“Please get me out.”

One of them immediately helped me walk outside.

“Why were you locked in there?”

I couldn't answer.

What was I supposed to say? That my husband's mistress had dragged me into the morgue and locked me inside because she wanted to punish me? That Favio would probably believe Isabella if I told him? That even after everything she had done, he would still find a reason to defend her?

I simply shook my head.

“I want to go home.”

The guards helped me to the entrance, and I called a car myself.

By the time I reached the villa, I was exhausted. My shoulder was throbbing again, my ribs hurt, and my legs felt so weak that I had to hold onto the railing as I climbed the stairs.

I walked through the front door without saying a word.

…

That night, I opened Instagram.

Isabella had posted several stories. In the first one, she was sitting across from Favio at an expensive restaurant in Milan, laughing while he poured wine into her glass. In the next, they were inside his private helicopter, and Isabella was filming the view from above the city.

Then I saw the caption.

“My future husband makes me so happy. I love you for spoiling me.”

I stared at those words for a long time.

Future husband.

I almost laughed. Favio was still my husband, at least on paper, but apparently that didn't matter anymore.

I wiped my eyes and laughed quietly. “Good for you, Favio.”

I blocked Isabella first, then I blocked Favio. I didn't want to see either of them anymore.

I put my phone down and buried my face in the pillow. I cried until my chest hurt.

I only had to survive a few more days, and then I could finally leave this house and never look back.

...

The next morning, Isabella came into my room and dragged me out again. She said we had somewhere to go for a medical outreach program connected to her hospital training. I was still weak, but I followed because I knew better than to refuse her when Favio had already made it clear what would happen if I disobeyed.

We hadn't even reached the medical outreach site when a black van suddenly cut across the road. Our driver slammed on the brakes, but before I could understand what was happening, several armed men surrounded the car.

The doors were ripped open, and someone grabbed me by the hair and dragged me out.

“Get off me!”

I fought back, but I was still recovering from my injuries and didn't have enough strength. Isabella was pulled out from the other side, screaming Favio's name as if he could hear her from miles away.

We were forced into another vehicle, and within minutes, we were being driven toward an abandoned dock outside the city.

By the time we arrived, my hands were tied behind my back. The sea stretched out in front of us, dark and rough under the afternoon sky.

A man stood waiting near the edge of the dock.

I recognized him. He was one of Favio's old enemies, a businessman whose company had collapsed after Favio forced him out of several mining contracts years ago. His wife had left him afterward, and he'd spent years blaming Favio for destroying his life.

He looked at Favio when the Guerrero convoy finally arrived.

“You remember me, Don Guerrero?” he shouted with a bitter laugh. “Years ago, you made me choose between saving my company and saving my marriage, and you destroyed both. You took everything from me, so today I'm going to make you make the same choice.”

Favio stepped forward, his expression hard. “Let them go. This is between you and me.”

The man laughed. “No. Today, you choose.”

He pointed his gun at us.

“You only get one woman, Favio. Save one, and the other goes into the sea.”

Isabella immediately started crying. “Favio, please! Don't leave me here!”

I didn't say anything. I just looked at him.

Some part of me already knew what he was going to do. Maybe I'd known the answer for a long time.

The man raised his hand.

“One.”

Favio looked at Isabella.

“Two.”

Isabella was sobbing now, calling his name over and over.

I stood there quietly, watching my husband. The man started to raise his hand for the final count, and Favio's face tightened.

“Isabella.”