Isabella's POV

"Ma'am, happy 5th Wedding Anniversary. I'll be back in the morning." I nod at my house servant by glancing at the clock. The hands stretch out, pointing almost to midnight.

I turn my head to see the roses standing proudly in my vase, each blooms a crimson wound against the pristine white of the tablecloth. Nine hundred and ninety-nine roses. Marco certainly has a flair for the drama.

The day had begun with a naive hope of getting him like before, but I only got roses.

The dull ache in my abdomen wells up my eyes, a cruel reminder of losing my child in the morning. Still, there was an expectation in my heart to get Marco beside me to be healed from the pain. However, it's ironic to wish for something like that now.

My phone lies beside me, silent and mocking. I pick it up and dial Marco’s number. It rings once, twice, and then the call is answered. But it’s not Marco’s voice that greets me.

“Mrs. DeLuca, this is Sofia Ricci. How can I assist you?” Sofia’s voice is smooth and professional. I can almost picture her, sitting at Marco’s side as always.

“I need to speak with my husband,” I say, struggling to keep my voice steady. “Where is he?”

There’s a brief pause, a rustle of movement, and then Marco’s voice comes through, clipped and indifferent. “What is it, Isabella?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I want a divorce, Marco.”

The silence that follows is deafening. I can hear my own heartbeat, loud and frantic in my ears. Finally, Marco speaks, his tone casual, as if discussing the weather. “As you wish.”

The call ends abruptly. I stare at the phone, a mixture of disbelief and anger swirling inside me. That’s it? “As you wish”? No questions, no arguments, just cold acceptance.

How silly am I? After all, Sofia is there for him and thankfully today I didn’t need to hear her moans over the phone call. With a broken heart I curl on the bed, my eyes well up. I couldn’t guess that I would face something like this one day. Alas! Everything is now only a good past for him, nothing else.

The next two weeks pass in a blur. Marco is a ghost, coming and going at odd hours, never sparing me more than a cursory glance. Each night, I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering where it all went wrong. How had we ended up here, so far apart, when once we had been so close?

One night, the front door creaks open, and I hear Marco’s footsteps echoing through the empty house. He enters the kitchen, looking around as if expecting something. His gaze settles on me, and he frowns.

“Isabella, why is there no food on the table?” He demands, with his voice, a sharp contrast to the silence that has settled over our home.

I meet his gaze, unflinching. “I didn’t cook tonight.”

He scowls, moving closer. “I’m hungry. Make me something.”

I rise from my seat, crossing my arms over my chest. “Make it yourself, Marco.”

His eyes narrow. “What’s gotten into you? I brought you a gift.” He holds out a designer bag, the brand name, a blatant display of wealth and status.

I glance at the bag, then back at him. “A gift? Is that supposed to make everything better?” I take a step closer, my voice rising. “You can’t buy my forgiveness, Marco. I asked for a divorce.”

He sighs, exasperated. “Isabella, be reasonable. We can talk about this. But right now, I need you to make dinner.” He doesn’t care even about our relationship.

I shake my head, feeling the weight of my resolve. “I’m done talking, Marco. You had your chance. It’s too late.”

His expression shifts, a flicker of something almost resembling regret passing over his features. “Isabella, let’s not make any hasty decisions. Think about Leonardo.”

At the mention of our son, my heart clenches. “Don’t you dare bring him into this. You care more about Sofia than you do about your own family.”

Marco’s face hardens. “Sofia is my secretary. You know that.”

I laugh, the sound bitter and hollow. “Your secretary? Do you think I’m blind and deaf? Those moans over phone calls, hickey on your shoulder, nails digging marks.”

He takes a step back, his hands clenched into fists. “You’re being unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable?” I feel a surge of anger. “I lost our baby, Marco. I miscarried while you were off playing house with Sofia.”

His face pales but changes in a moment. “You… you lost the baby?”

“Yes,” I whisper, the tears I’ve been holding back finally spilling over. “Our baby is gone, and you didn’t even notice.”

He reaches out, as if to touch me, but I step back. “Isabella, it’s okay.”

“Are you serious?” I scream, the pent-up frustration and pain bursting forth. “You don’t even care for our unborn baby.”

He stands there, silent and painless. I take a deep breath, wiping away the tears. “This is over, Marco. I’m done. I want a divorce.”

Before he can respond, I turn and walk away, leaving him standing in the kitchen, surrounded by the cold, empty remnants of what once was our home.

The next morning, I wake to the sound of hushed voices. I slip out of bed and pad silently to the top of the stairs. Below, I see Marco and Sofia, their heads close together, whispering urgently. My heart sinks, but I force myself to listen.

“She’s serious about the divorce,” Sofia says, her tone equally anxious. “What if she takes Leonardo?”

I clench my fists, this is it. She has the audacity to talk about my family. But before I can speak, Sofia’s next words stop me cold.

“You can’t let that happen, Marco. You have to do something. Anything. Leonardo is your heir.”

"Yes, I need to end it in a cunning way.” Marco’s response is lost to the roaring in my ears. I back away, my mind racing. They’re plotting against me, something dangerous.

I return to my room, my hands trembling as I grab my phone and dial a number I never thought I’d use. The call connects, and a voice answers on the other end.

“Giovanni? It’s Isabella. I need your help.” I’ve to take a wise step now.

Isabella's POV

I am sitting on the edge of the bed, my mind racing. Giovanni, my older brother, will be here soon. The DeLuca family might be powerful, but the Rossi family isn’t to be underestimated. Giovanni had always stayed out of my marriage issues, respecting my choices. But now, I need him more than ever.

The door creaks open, and Leonardo peeks in, his big blue eyes wide with curiosity. "Mama, are you okay?"

I force a smile, pushing down the lump in my throat. "I'm fine, sweetheart. Come here."

He runs to me, his small arms wrapping around my waist. I hold him tight, breathing in his innocent scent. He’s the only reason I stayed this long. The thought of losing him terrifies me more than anything else.

Marco appears in the doorway, his expression unreadable. “Isabella, we need to talk.”

I stiffen, but nod. “Leonardo, why don’t you go play in your room for a bit? Mama and Papa need to discuss something.”

Leonardo glances between us, sensing the tension, but obediently heads to his room. Once he’s gone, Marco steps inside, closing the door behind him.

“Why do you need to leave all of a sudden? Giovanni’s call came to me.” His voice is low.

I look up at him, my anger bubbling to the surface. “So what? I can’t stay here to face your plotting.”

“Huh!” He clenches, taking a step closer. “What are you saying?”

“I’m not a deaf as I told you before,” my voice shaking, “anyway, Sofia is here for you. So, I should leave sooner or later.”

His frustration is visible. “Listen, you can’t decide alone. I’m not your toy but husband—”

“And the husband chose his secretary over his wife.” I snap, unable to hold back any longer.

Marco grips my arms. “Behave yourself. You should know I am not an office clerk. So, there is no reason to stay at one place.”

“That’s it.” I laugh bitterly. “Nothing else to discuss.”

He opens his mouth to respond, but a knock on the door interrupts us. Giovanni steps in, his presence commanding and authoritative. He takes one look at the scene and narrows his eyes at Marco.

“What’s going on here?” Giovanni asks, his tone cold.

Marco straightens, his demeanor shifting to one of defiance. “This is a private matter, Giovanni.”

“Not anymore,” Giovanni replies, crossing his arms. “Until Isabella didn’t call me.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, grateful for Giovanni’s support. Marco glares at him but doesn’t argue. Instead, he turns back to me, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and failure.

“We need to talk about Leonardo,” Marco roars, “you can’t take him away from me.”

I meet his gaze, my resolve hardening. “He’s my son, Marco. And I won’t let him be raised in a house filled with lies and betrayal.”

Giovanni steps forward, placing a protective hand on my shoulder. “Isabella will do what’s best for Leonardo. And if that means leaving, then that’s what she’ll do.”

Marco clenches his fists, his jaw tight. “You can’t just take him. He’s my son too.”

“He’s our son,” I correct, my voice steady. “And I’ll fight for him, Marco. I’ll fight for his happiness and his future.”

Marco looks like he wants to argue, but the sound of Leonardo’s laughter from the other room stops him. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Don’t take him away. For Leonardo’s sake.”

I feel a pang of sadness, but I shake my head. “It’s too late, Marco. You had your chance, and you threw it away.”

He looks at me in rage. But before he can say anything else, Giovanni steps in, his tone final. “Isabella is done talking, Marco. If you want to discuss custody, you’ll do it through our lawyers.”

With that, Giovanni turns and leads me out of the room. I follow him, my heart heavy but my resolve firm. This is the right decision. For me and for Leonardo.

We enter the living room, and Giovanni pulls me into a hug. “I’m proud of you, Bella. You’re doing the right thing.”

I nod, burying my face in his shoulder. “I know. But it’s still so hard.”

He pulls back, looking me in the eyes. “You’re strong. You’ll get through this. And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

I smile weakly, grateful for his support. “Thank you, Bro. I am grateful.”

He gives me a reassuring squeeze before releasing me. “Now, let’s get you and Leonardo out of here.”

We gather Leonardo’s things and pack them into Giovanni’s car. As I buckle Leonardo into his seat, he looks up at me with wide, curious eyes. “Where are we going, Mama?”

I brush a strand of hair from his forehead, forcing a smile. “We’re going to stay with Uncle Giovanni for a little while, okay? It’ll be an adventure.”

He nods, accepting my explanation without question. As I close the door, I take one last look at the house that has been our home for the past five years. It feels strange to leave it behind, but I know it’s the right thing to do.

Giovanni drives us to his house, a large, comfortable place on the outskirts of the city. He has always been more like a father to me than our own ever was. When we arrive, he shows us to our rooms and makes sure we’re settled.

That night, as I lie in bed, I can’t help but think about the early days of my relationship with Marco.

Years ago, I wandered the streets, trying to escape the chaos at home. I stumbled upon Marco, surrounded by a group of thugs. Without thinking, I rushed in to help him.

"Hey! Leave him alone!" I shouted, pushing one of the thugs away.

Marco, surprised, joined the fight. We stood back to back, defending ourselves until the thugs retreated. Marco was injured, so I took him to the hospital.

In the sterile, white room, we truly saw each other for the first time.

"Why did you help me?" Marco asked, wincing as the nurse bandaged his wound.

"I couldn't just walk away," I replied. "You looked like you needed help."

He smiled, gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you. I'm Marco."

"Isabella," I said, shaking his hand.

We spent hours talking, sharing our stories. I told him about my troubled home, about the roses that symbolized empty apologies. He listened, really listened.

At eighteen, we promised to be together forever. But forever turned out to be shorter than I hoped.

Isabella's POV

It's been two days since Leonardo and I moved into Giovanni’s house. We are having our breakfast like a normal morning. The front door crashes open with a resounding bang.

The thud of heavy footsteps echoes through the hallway, sending a shiver down my spine. Marco storms in with a few of his men holding shotguns, the tension in the room spiking instantly. His eyes are hard and determined, the atmosphere crackles with confrontation.

“I’m here for Leonardo,” Marco announces. “He’s coming with me. After all, he is the heir of DeLuca.”

“No!” I cry out, my voice breaking. “You can’t take him. You don’t care about him.”

Tears stream down my face as Marco steps forward. Leonardo, sensing my distress, wipes my tears with his tiny hands. “Let’s go, Mama.”

But Marco grabs him, his grip firm. “Mama won’t go with us. She chose to stay apart.”

"No, don’t do this at least. You have everything, Marco." I beg. For the first time, I did.

"You should have thought about this before turning your back on me." He sneers as if I was nothing but a piece of tissue whose emotions don’t matter.

"Why do you need to do this? You could simply stay happy with Sofia." My voice cracks with emotion. Leonardo’s gaze transfers between us, confused and scared.

"And you could simply stay like that in my house." The insult is visible with his smirk.

"Marco, stop it, man. You were supposed to love Isabella. At least respect those feelings." Giovanni thumps on the table. Out of the blue, Marco points a pistol at bro and shoots.

"Broooo-" I realize it was a warning shot.

Marco’s jaw clenches, his gaze fiery and unforgiving. “This isn’t about love. This is about control. And I control my family.” He gestures, and I realize that outside the house is surrounded by Marco's men.

Leonardo’s cries echo through the room as Marco drags him away. I collapse to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Giovanni tries to console me, but it’s no use. “He’s my reason for living,” I wail. “My only reason.”

I look out the window, seeing the cold, determined faces of Marco’s men. Giovanni, though strong, can’t protect me from Marco’s power. I feel utterly helpless, knowing I have no choice but to let him take my son.

Marco pauses at the door, Leonardo still crying in his arms. He looks back at me, his eyes cold. “This is your fault, Isabella. Remember that.”

And then they are gone. The front door slams shut, and I am left alone in the empty house, my heart shattered into a million pieces. Giovanni kneels beside me, holding me as I sob, but there is no comfort in his embrace. I am lost without my son.

Days pass in a blur. I can’t sleep, my heart is shattered. I decide to go to the hospital for help. Unexpectedly, I run into Sofia and Marco. Marco is there to get medicine for Sofia, who has a sprained ankle. While Marco is away, Sofia sees me.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the discarded wife,” Sofia sneers. “How’s life without Marco?”

“You’re nothing but a money-loving bitch,” I snap. “A third wheel. Marco will see your true colors one day.”

Sofia’s eyes flash with anger. “Enjoy your delusions. I’ll make your son’s life hell after I marry Marco.”

"Don't you dare to harm my son," rage surges through me. "Smackkk-" I slap Sofia, the sound echoing in the hallway. Marco returns just in time to see it.

"How dare you?" He strides over and slaps me back, his eyes cold. "Don’t cause trouble, Isabella," he warns. “Stay out of our lives.”

I look at him, my heart breaking all over again. “Just sign the papers, Marco.” He remains silent when I leave without a further word. The insult hurts me more than the slap.

Leaving Bro’s house, I reach my parents’ empty home. Bro is facing trouble due to my chaos. It's tough for me to get my son's custody being only the wife of Marco DeLuca and nothing else. I regret deciding to be a housewife at this moment the most in my life.

The next evening, Marco calls me, in a frantic tone. “Isabella, you have to come back. Leonardo is sick.”

My heart clenches. “What happened?”

“It’s bad,” Marco says, his voice urgent. “You need to see him.”

Without hesitation, I grab my coat and rush. I arrive at his family’s villa, where a family gathering is in full swing. As soon as I step inside, I know something is off.

“Where’s Leonardo?” I demand.

Marco avoids my gaze. “He’s with my mother.”

I push past him, heading for the living room. Marco’s family is there, watching me with cold eyes. His mother steps forward, her face stern.

“Isabella, we need to talk,” she says.

“I don’t care about talking,” I snap. “I want to see my son.”

“He’s not sick,” Marco admits, his voice cold. “I lied to get you here.”

Rage and betrayal surge through me. “You lied about our son’s health?”

“We need to maintain the family’s reputation,” Marco’s mother cuts in. “A divorce would ruin us.”

“I don’t care about your reputation!” I shout. “All I care about is Leonardo.”

The room falls silent, the tension thick in the air. Marco steps closer, his face hard. “You’re not taking him away. He stays with me.”

“I’ll fight you,” I say, my voice shaking with fury. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get him back.”

Giovanni steps into the room as I messaged him before I came here, his presence commanding. “This is enough,” he says, his voice firm. “Isabella has the right to see her son. If you want a fight, you’ll get one.”

Marco’s eyes narrow. “Are you threatening me?”

“Consider it a promise,” Giovanni replies, his tone icy.

Marco’s family murmurs, clearly unsettled by Giovanni’s words. I feel a flicker of hope, knowing my brother is on my side.

Suddenly, Leonardo’s cries echo from upstairs. I rush towards the sound, my heart pounding. I find him in a small room, tears streaming down his face.

“Mama!” He sobs, reaching out for me.

I scoop him up, holding him close. “I’m here, baby. Mama’s here.”

"First decide, will you stay the way Marco keeps you or not?" Marco's mom blares in the living room when the guests start coming.

"A big no!" I reply and all of them are shocked by my direct answer.