I Faked My Death to Destroy My Husband

He chose his mistress on our anniversary. He didn't know I was already planning my funeral.

For three years, I was the perfect wife. I swallowed the insults from his family. I bore the guilt of our daughter’s death. Everyone blamed me. Yet, I loved Mateo Santiago with everything I had.

Until the day I found out the truth.

On the same day I discovered I was pregnant again, I learned my husband was expecting a child with another woman: my own step-aunt, Valentina. And worse? I finally discovered that he was the one responsible for our first daughter's death, not me.

I didn't scream. I didn't fight. I simply texted him: "Your birthday is in a month. I’ll prepare a gift you’ll never forget."

Thirty days later, Mateo Santiago watched my car burn at the bottom of a cliff. He buried an empty casket and cried for a wife he thought he loved.

But Isabella Romano didn't die that day. She just disappeared.

I was not alone anymore. I had another life growing inside me but then I stumbled upon a stranger. A stranger shadows feared. Dante Galante.

The pregnancy

Isabella’s POV

The pregnancy test lay on the sink.

I told myself not to look yet. I told myself to breathe.

But I opened my eyes and the second line appeared anyway.

Positive.

For a moment, I couldn’t move, staring at the pregnancy test until my vision blurred. Slowly, I pressed my trembling hand to my stomach.

A baby. Another one.

Hope rose before I could stop it. My eyes burned. My throat tightened.

Please, I thought, not sure who I was praying to. Please let this one live.

The memory from one year ago flashed right in front of my eyes.

A year ago, this moment would have sent me running down the hallway, laughing, jumping into Mateo’s arms. But that was before.

Before Elena.

My beautiful, tiny Elena baby. She had only been on this earth for one month. I could still feel her tiny body against my chest. The way her fingers curled around mine like she trusted me completely.

I squeezed my eyes shut. My tears were already falling.

They said I failed her. Everyone did. Mateo’s mother had screamed at the funeral, calling me careless, claiming I had left her unattended, that I was a child playing house who didn't know how to be a mother.

And My husband Mateo? The man I had saved from the gutter, the man I had stood by while he climbed the top of the Santiago Group? He hadn’t defended me. He hadn't yelled back. He just looked at me with hollow eyes and silence that felt heavier than any accusation.

Now, I’m pregnant again. Is this a second chance? Or am I going to be a failure again?

My phone buzzed on the counter.

I ignored it. But it continued to buzz again. And again.

I reached for it without looking, wiping at my cheeks. The name on the screen made my hand freeze.

Valentina Martinez.

My step-aunt. She was a result of my father’s mid-life crisis five years ago when he married a woman barely older than his own daughter. We had never been close, but lately, her messages had been weird.

I opened the message.

We need to talk.

I stared at those three words until another message appeared beneath it.

A photo.

Mateo’s watch was unmistakable. The watch I saved for months to buy him. His hand rested on a woman’s thigh possessively.

My stomach dropped. Then the text followed.

I’m pregnant.

I lowered myself onto the closed toilet lid because my legs no longer trusted me. My fingers trembled as another message arrived.

Two months.

Mateo’s.

Something inside me cracked. I couldn't cry. I couldn't scream. It was just a quiet, devastating crack. My heart felt hollow.

Another message flashed on the screen:

I thought you should know. Before he lies to you. Again.

A laugh bubbled up in my chest hysterically. I pressed my hand over my mouth to smother it.

She was right. Again. Mateo was good at lying.

And I shouldn't be surprised. Because the mourning period for my marriage hadn’t started today. It had started exactly five months ago.

Five months ago, I believed we were just… damaged. So, I planned to surprise Mateo, to try and bridge the gap that had grown between us since Elena’s death.

Five months ago…

I wore his favorite dress at night. The black one he once said made me look dangerous. Then I went to The Vermillion to surprise him, imagining his smile when he saw me.

Once I got there, I bribed the guards to stay and stood behind a heavy curtain to surprise him. I was prepared to step into his private booth, when I heard his voice.

"She is just… she is difficult, Marcus." Mateo was saying. I heard the clink of ice against glass. "Since the baby, she is so distant, you know. And even before that, if I be honest. Isabella is old-fashioned. She is boring in bed. She looks at me like I’m a saint, not a man."

My hand clenched on the curtain. It wasn't the voice of the man who used to hold me while I cried. It was the voice of a stranger.

"You need to live a little, Mat." Marcus Allen’s voice replied. "You’re the head of the Santiago Group now. You have needs. Have you thought about what I told you? About the agency?"

"Scarlet Discretion?" Mateo asked.

"Top of the line." David Miller cut in. "Two to five grand a night. No strings, no names. Just professionals who know how to do the things your wife won’t."

"I don't know," Mateo hesitated. "I love her."

"Chill, Dude. You can love her and still have a life." Marcus said. "Mr. Miller is my contact. I can set you up tonight. If she never finds out, who gets hurt? You get to be happy. She gets to keep her 'perfect husband.' It’s a win-win."

I waited. I prayed to a God that Mateo would flip the table, that he would punch Marcus in the jaw for speaking about me that way.

"Alright.” Mateo said calmly. "Set it up. But it has to be discreet."

My heart froze. But I didn’t walk into the booth. I turned around and walked out into the biting winter wind. I walked for two hours without a coat, letting the cold seep into my bones until I was shivering so violently I couldn't stand.

I caught a fever that night. Mateo played the part of the perfect husband for six days. He brought me soup. He checked my temperature.

But on the seventh day, while I was still weak and burning up, his phone rang.

"I have to go in," He told me, adjusting his tie, not looking me in the eye. "Work emergency. A crisis at the port."

I knew it wasn't the port. It was Scarlet Discretion. I begged him not to go. But he kissed my forehead, said he would be back soon and left anyway.

He didn’t come back soon. I knew he wouldn't.

At some point, I realized my fever had broken. My skin felt clammy, my head clearer than it had been in days. I pushed myself upright.

I reached for my phone. No messages. No missed calls. The clock on the nightstand glowed 11:47 p.m.

I imagined him in some conference room, sleeves rolled up the way it used to be when he talked about building his future. I told myself not to be paranoid. I told myself I was sick and exhausted and imagining things.

Still, I opened his credit card app. I didn’t know why. I’d never checked it before.

The charge was there, timestamped less than an hour ago.

$3,200. SC Consulting.

I scrolled further.

$4,500. $3,200. $4,000. Every two, sometimes three times a month. Always at night. Always under the same vague description, coded as "Consulting Services.”

But I knew what it was.

"Top of the line." I remembered David Miller say that night. "Two to five grand a night. No strings, no names."

It was a call girl agency. The specific billing descriptor for Scarlet Discretion. A perfect little lie on a statement that no one would question. He wasn’t meeting clients. He was paying someone to sleep with him while I lay sick here.

My hands started to shake. I had to set the phone down before it slipped from my grip.

I stared at the ceiling again, breathing through the ache spreading across my chest. I didn’t cry. I waited.

At two in the morning, I got up and padded into the living room. I thought of Elena.

How I had stayed awake all night watching her breathe, terrified she would disappear if I closed my eyes.

I had trusted Mateo to watch over me the same way. That trust felt foolish now.

I sat on the couch until dawn. My mind drifted back through the years. Every sacrifice, every quiet way I had protected him when the world was cruel. I remembered standing between him and his father’s rage. I remembered skipping meals so he could eat. I remembered believing love meant enduring.

The entire day, I didn't even feel alive anymore. I didn't eat, didn’t drink. In the evening, I finally found the strength to pick up my phone and call Irene.

My best friend. She moved to Italy last year for her work. But she was still the only person I trusted not to turn her back on me. She answered on the second ring.

“Bella? What's up?” Her voice was sleepy. “Is everything okay?”

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

“Bella?” She said again, concerned. “You’re scaring me.”

“Irene…” My voice cracked, and I hated myself for it. I pressed my knuckles to my lips, “I need you to listen. And I need you not to interrupt me.”

There was a pause. “Okay.”

“I was sick. Not anymore.” I said. “But Mateo left last night. He said it was work.”

She waited.

“I checked his card,” I continued,“There’s a charge. The kind he thinks I don’t recognize.”

Irene exhaled slowly. “Oh, Bella…”

“I waited for him,” I said. “All night. I kept thinking he’d come back and explain. I kept thinking I was being unfair.” A humorless laugh escaped me. “I’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

“That son of a bitch” she cursed in a low tone.

“I want to leave him,” I said. “But I can’t just… disappear. He won’t let me. His family won’t let me.”

Irene didn’t argue. She never did when it mattered.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked quietly.

“Six months from now.” I said, forcing myself to stay steady, “I need people to believe I was in an accident. Just… enough that they stop looking for me.”

I heard her gasp. “Bella, that’s…”

“I know,” I interrupted gently. “I know how it sounds. I’m not running away. I’m taking my life back.”

“You’re sure?” Irene asked. “Because once we do this, there’s no turning back.”

I closed my eyes and saw Elena’s face. Then I saw Mateo walking out the door. And I saw myself waiting.

“Yes.” I said, gritting my teeth. “I’m sure.”

Another long silence passed by.

Then Irene said, “Okay. Think it’s done."

Tears finally slipped free, trailing down my cheeks.

“Thank you.” I whispered.

“Just remember, you got me.” she said. “Whenever you need.”

That was the day the Isabella who loved Mateo died.

Over the last ninety days, I did what Mateo did. Pretended to be a perfect wife while I packed away our shared memories. I didn't cry as I packed thousands of photos, love letters written on napkins, the diamond earrings he bought me for our first anniversary. I locked them all in a vault he didn't know existed. I kept the surprise for when I vanished.

I hired a PI. I watched the credit card statements. Consulting Services. That’s what they were labeled. Again and again. Two thousand five hundred dollars. Four thousand dollars. They appeared two, sometimes three times a month.

And now, Valentina.

Present Day…

I sat on the bathroom floor, the cold tile numbing my legs. The phone buzzed again.

Valentina: You thought Mateo loves you, dear? God, you are such a clueless wife. Look at me. I know everything. About his call girls. His all lies. That he hates you. And you know what? That's why he loves me. I heard, it’s your wedding anniversary next week. Let's see who he stays with. His boring wife. Or the future heir of the Santigo Group.

Suddenly, the caller ID changed. It wasn't a text this time. It was a call.

Hubby.

I stared at the name. He was probably calling from the office, or perhaps from Valentina’s bed.

I cleared my throat, forcing the tremor out of my voice. I swiped right. "Hello?"

"Bella?" Mateo’s voice sounded concerned. "Where are you? I’ve been calling the house line. You didn't answer."

"I’m in the bathroom, Mateo," I said, keeping my voice calm.

"Is everything okay? You sound... strange. Did something happen? Has someone upset you?"

I looked at the positive pregnancy test and then I looked at the Valentina’s texts on my screen.

The old Isabella would have cried. She would have screamed 'How could you?' She would have demanded a divorce right then and there.

But I wasn't the old Isabella. I was the woman who was going to die in a car crash in a month. I was the woman who was going to take him for everything he was worth before I disappeared into the smoke.

I watched myself in the mirror. I looked broken, too broken. "Mateo..." I uttered softly, “You're the one who upset me."

Then I hung up.

Anniversary

~A week later~

Mateo’s POV

“Work, Bella. It’s always work. You know how the merger is killing me these days.” I pinched the bridge of my nose as I leaned back in my leather chair.

“I know, Mateo.” Isabella said softly. Before, that softness used to make me feel strong. Lately, it only made me feel tired. “It’s just… dinner is getting cold. Again.”

“I was wrapping up.” I lied easily. The merger had ended days ago. “I would be home by six. Exactly six. I promise.”

I didn’t wait for her to reply. I ended the call and dropped my phone onto the desk. It slid smoothly and stopped beside my glass of scotch.

Six o’clock.

I glanced at my watch. I still had plenty of time.

A faint smirk crossed my lips. She was still the same. The same clingy, always waiting, always worrying wife. Part of me hated it. But another part of me liked the attention. It reminded me that I was the center of her world.

I took a slow drink of scotch as my thoughts shifted to Valentina.

With her, it was different. Isabella was calm water. Valentina was fire. She was hunger, desire without rules. She was everything I could never bring home to my wife. But that was all she was meant to be. A release.

My heart still belonged to Isabella. It always had. I had needs, yes, but I wasn’t heartless. I knew where my home was.

My phone hummed again.

The caller id flashed Valentina.

I let it buzz twice before answering and put it on speaker. I stood up, adjusting my cufflinks.

“What?”

“You sound tense, darling.” She purred. “Come over. I bought that black lace slip you like. The one almost transparent…”

I paused for a moment, the image flashing in my mind. But I looked at the clock. 5:15.

“Not tonight.” I said flatly. “I’m going home.”

“Home?” Her voice sharpened. “To her? Again? You said you were free tonight.”

“Plans change,” I said, picking up my suit jacket. “I’m going back to Santiago Manor.”

She stayed silent only for a moment. Then, “Do you feel nothing, Mateo?” She asked. “When you leave my bed to go to hers… do you feel nothing at all?”

I sighed, already annoyed. “Don’t start this, Valentina.”

“Don’t do what?” She cried. “Ask if I mattered? After everything we did together?”

“I feel satisfaction with you.” I said coldly. “That’s what you are for. That was the deal.”

“The deal?” She sobbed loudly now. “I love you, Mateo.”

The words irritated me.

I took the phone off speaker and pressed it to my ear. “Know your place.” I reminded her. “I used you to satisfy my desires. Nothing more. I would give you money. Jewelry. An apartment. But love? You would never get that from me.”

“How could you say that?” She cried.

“Because it is true,” I answered. “I only love Bella. She is my wife. You are… just a distraction.”

“A distraction?” she screamed. “We are perfect together! You said it yourself! We are so in sync! Seven times, Mateo. Seven times in one night! You don't do with someone you don't care about.”

“I did that with someone who was good at what she did.” I said, checking my reflection in the glass. “That wasn’t love. It was just sex. Physical. Understand that, or this ended.”

I hung up without waiting for her answer.

I adjusted my collar and shook my head. Women always made things complicated. I had everything balanced perfectly. Why did they always want more?

I picked up my briefcase and headed for the door. Then my phone vibrated.

I frowned. If Valentina was begging again, I planned to block her number.

I unlocked the screen. It wasn’t a message but an image.

I stopped walking, freezing as I saw it. On the screen was a medical report.

Patient: Valentina Rossi

Test: hCG

Result: Positive

Gestational Age: 6 weeks

I stared at it. My vision blurred, then cleared. Seven times in one night. Her words echoed in my head.

My briefcase slipped from my hand and hit the floor. I didn’t react. I didn't know what to do. I just stood there, in the middle of everything I had built, staring at the screen.

She was pregnant. And for the first time in years, I didn’t know what to do.

Isabella’s POV

I had given the staff the day off.

It was a tradition. I had been following it for three years now. Every anniversary, I wanted it to be just us. No servants. No watching eyes. Just Mateo and me.

The thought tasted bitter in my mouth.

Earlier in the afternoon, Mrs. Higgins had stopped me in the kitchen. She smiled so warmly it almost hurt to look at her.

“Oh, Madam.” She said, shaking her head in admiration. “You are so lucky. Mr. Santiago works himself to the bone, yet he never forgets you. Flowers, kind words, always attentive. A devoted husband like that is rare these days.”

I had smiled back. I had even laughed. I let her believe the lie. The truth was too ugly to wear in daylight.

In this city, we were the perfect couple. No one knew that the “merger” keeping him away tonight likely smelled of lace and carried the perfume of my own step‑aunt.

I shook the thought away as I stopped at the table. I had prepared everything he loved.

The beef bourguignon he always praised. The Bordeaux I hunted down from a private collector because he once mentioned it casually. Candles burned low, dripping slowly onto the lace tablecloth.

The clock ticked on Seven. Then eight. Then nine.

My phone vibrated. A chuckle left my lips. I expected it much later.

Mateo:

Bella, I’m so sorry. Something urgent came up at the office. A problem with the overseas accounts. I won’t make it back tonight. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow with a gift. Let’s plan that Mediterranean cruise next month. Sleep well.

I read it once. Then I laughed. The pattern was so familiar it made me laugh.

I looked at the two places set at the table. For years, I had shaped my life around him. I had learned how to wait. How to be quiet. How to fold myself into the spaces he left behind. I told myself that if I was more patient, more beautiful, more understanding, he would eventually come home fully.

My hand drifted slowly to my stomach.

It was still flat. But I knew it was there. The small presence. A secret I had planned to reveal tonight.

“It’s just us.” I whispered. “You and me.” My voice cracked a bit.

The sadness inside me cooled as the realization hit. I wasn’t only a wife anymore. I was a mother.

“We’ll leave your daddy.” I said quietly as I smoothed my hand over my belly. “I’ll give you more than enough love. We don’t need a man who prefers another woman’s bed to his own home.”

I picked up my phone. My fingers were calm as I typed.

To Mateo:

Okay. I understand. By the way, your birthday is in a month from now. I’ve already started planning something special. I promise it will be a gift you’ll never forget. Love you.

I sent it.

He would read it and smile. He would think I was still the same devoted wife, planning his happiness months in advance.

He wouldn’t realize that one month was exactly how long I needed.

Useless

Isabella’s POV

Mateo didn’t come. Of course, he wouldn’t.

I shouldn't be surprised that my cheater husband didn't arrive on our wedding anniversary. But it wasn't just about our anniversary.

It was also about Elena.

It was one-year anniversary of our daughter’s death. And he wasn't visiting her grave. He wasn't holding his grieving wife.

He was in bed with Valentina.

I stepped into the bedroom that felt foreign, cold, not a place where I spent my five years. I walked to the wardrobe and stared at the drawer where I kept memories valuable than golds. A shiver ran down my body.

The night was too long. Too cold.

I didn’t bother to turn the lights on. I welcomed darkness, it felt better, warmer.

Darkness.

There was a time I was afraid of darkness. I believed monsters hide in darkness. I was wrong. Monsters don’t always hide in the dark. Sometimes, they wear lace nightgowns and call you "family."

Valentina. The name tasted like poison.

She didn’t just sleep with my husband. She had been stealing from me long before he entered my life.

Five years ago, when my father remarried, she walked into my life wearing soft smiles and fragile sighs, like a woman the world had wronged. She was only a few months older than me, young enough to play the victim convincingly, old enough to know exactly what she was doing.

From the beginning, she wanted everything that was mine. My father’s attention. My stepmother’s affection. The space I occupied in my own home.

“Isabella,” She said gently when she entered my room, touching my arm like we were already sisters. “I hope we can be close.”

She wore pale blue that day. She always wore colors that made people think of calm. Of kindness.

I nodded because I thought she was nice.

At dinner, she laughed at my father’s jokes. She leaned into my stepmother’s side. She asked about my classes with interest that felt sincere until the moment I spoke.

“Oh.” She said once, interrupting me mid-sentence. Her eyes shone. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset.” I replied.

But she was already tearing up.

My stepmother frowned at me across the table. “Isabella, you don’t need to sound so rude.”

My father sighed. “Be patient, Isabella. She’s trying.”

Trying. That word followed me for years.

Try harder. Be nicer. Stop causing problems.

Valentina never raised her voice. She never argued. She only looked hurt and the world rushed to protect her.

By the time I moved out, I had learned how to keep my feelings quiet. How to swallow anger before it became visible. How to be the villain in every story without ever knowing what crime I had committed.

Then I met Mateo. The memory came almost painfully.

We were sitting on the cold steps outside the university library, sharing cheap coffee because neither of us could afford a second cup. He listened when I spoke. Really listened. When I told him about my family, he didn’t interrupt. He defended me.

“They don’t get to rewrite you.” he said simply. He said it like a fact.

With him, I didn’t feel replaceable. I didn’t feel like something that could be taken if I wasn’t careful enough.

“I was wrong.” I whispered to myself as I clenched my hand and slid the drawer open.

Inside lay the things I hadn’t yet locked away. Not valuables. Not documents. The small, foolish things that once meant everything.

I picked up the photograph first. I had taken the selfie with my little phone. That was in my university.

Mateo and me were sitting on the steps outside the university library. It was raining behind us. We were sharing headphones, his jacket draped over my shoulders even though he was the one shivering.

I remembered the way he had leaned closer and whispered, “I love you, Bella.”

At the time, the words had filled something hollow inside me. But now, they felt like fresh betrayal.

I placed the photo into the vault and reached for the next item.

A dried flower. I had it glued carefully in a paper.

He had brought it to me after our first real argument. He would stood awkwardly in the doorway of my apartment, holding flowers.

“It’s not much.” He would say at that time. “But I saw it and thought of you.”

I remembered laughing, pulling him inside, thinking that this was what love looked like.

I was a fool.

I slid flower into the drawer beside the photograph.

Next, I noticed the letters. My fingers brushed the top envelope. He had written my name so carefully on it. He used to write to me even when we lived in the same city. Then I touched the first diamond ring he brought me.

It was when he got his first real promotion. He had lifted me off the ground and spun me around our tiny kitchen.

“I wouldn't have done this without you, Bella.” he said. “You are my world.”

I believed that too.

After we married, he used to come home early just to see me. He’d loosen his tie, kiss my temple, tell me about his day.

All became a lie.

I didn't know when a tear slipped. I wiped it off and reached out to the bottom of the drawer. There, I found a hospital bracelet.

Elena. My fingers trembled as I picked it up. Her name printed on it.

I remembered Mateo kneeling in front of me when I told him I was pregnant. “I swear,” he’d whispered, holding his sobs back. “I will protect you both.”

For one perfect month, he did.

He learned how to hold her, how to calm her. He used to wake in the night just to check her breathing. He was perfect.

And then, one month later, he was gone. With her. My Elena.

I had gone out for groceries. Fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty. When I came home, she wasn’t breathing. The doctors said it was a traumatic head injury. That she fell.

They blame me and I took them blame.

Mateo didn't accuse. He simply withdrew himself from me. His arms stopped reaching for me in sleep. His eyes avoided mine like they were afraid of what they might see. When I cried, he went quiet. When I spoke, he didn't listen.

I tried harder then. I cooked his favorite meals. I dressed prettier, sexier. I hid my sadness so it wouldn’t bother his.

I bit my lower lip from trembling as I placed Elena’s bracelet gently into the vault. The drawer was almost empty now.

As I closed the drawer, I finally understood something I hadn’t let myself see before.

Mateo didn’t leave me all at once. He left me slowly. And I stayed because I remembered the man he used to be.

My stomach rolled suddenly. I gripped the handle of the drawer until the nausea passed.

I had to be okay. Another life was growing inside me. I wouldn't let anyone hurt this life. Not even myself.

Closing the drawer, I took out my phone and opened Valentina’s messages. I took screenshots of everything. Every insult. Every photo. Every time stamp.

"You want to play the victim, Valentina?" I murmured, “You want to be the center of attention?" I saved the images to a hidden cloud drive.

I wasn't just going to leave. Leaving was too easy. No.

This baby inside me deserved justice for Elena. This baby deserved a world where its mother wasn't a doormat.

"I'm going to ruin you," I promised the empty room, and I meant it with every fiber of my being. "I will strip you both of everything you have. Your reputation, your money, your pride. You will wish you had never met me."

Mateo’s POV

I walked through the front doors of the Santigo Manor, and found Isabella laying on the couch. She kept her one hand resting over her stomach. She looked… small. Fragile. Her hair was a mess, eyes red-rimmed from crying.

And my chest… I don’t know. It ached. It ached in a way I hadn’t expected.

Seeing her like this always made me want to burn the world down, yet here I was, the one who had lit the match.

“I’m sorry, Bella.” I thought, though the words died in my throat.

I couldn't help it. Valentina had been hysterical. When that pregnancy report popped up on my screen, the world had tilted. She had cried for hours, her hands trembling as she clung to my shirt, begging me not to leave her alone with my child. I had stayed because I had to. Because that tiny life was a reality I couldn't walk away from.

I looked at Isabella’s sleeping form. She was so perfect. I remembered her when she was pregnant with Elena. I remembered the way her skin stretched, the way her body became something… different.

It had terrified me. I loved her as my muse, my delicate flower. I didn't want to see her body distorted by another pregnancy.

In a way, Valentina was the perfect solution.

She would carry the burden. She would deal with the morning sickness, the stretch marks, the physical ruin. And in two or three years, when the child was walking and talking, I’d bring it home.

We would call it an adoption. Isabella would take the child in. She would raise my heir, and our family would be whole again.

I knelt beside her as I touched her hair, brushing it from her face. She stirred, murmured something, but didn’t wake.

Last night, when I touched Valentina’s belly, I had felt a joy that Isabella had never managed to give me.

“Useless.” The word flashed through my mind.

I flinched, shoving the thought back into the cellar of my mind. No. I love Isabella. She is my heart.

But she had failed me before. Elena… was gone. And no matter what I told myself, I could not forgive her. I knew, deep down, that the grocery run hadn't killed Elena. The timing was a cruel coincidence.

But if I admitted that, I’d have to look at why I hadn't been there either.

I reached out and finally touched her cheek. "I'll make it up to you, Bella," I whispered. "The gift I’m bringing home in a few years… it’s going to fix everything."

The truth

Isabella’s POV

I stirred half-conscious on the couch as I felt someone lift me. When I smelled sandalwood, I knew if was Mateo even before I fully woke.

His scent. It used to calm me. It used to make me feel safe. Now… it made my stomach twist.

I forced my eyes open, staring up into the face of the man I had worshipped for years. “Mateo, what are you doing?”

"You are awake. I am taking you to the bed." He replied. "I’m sorry, Bella. The year-end audit turned into a nightmare. I should have called more." He said, smiling down at me, the way he always did when he thought charm could fix everything

"It’s fine, Mateo," I said.

"It’s not fine. I broke a promise." He set me down gently. His hands stayed on my waist. "Hit me. Yell at me. I deserve it."

He wanted me to throw a tantrum. He wanted the "clingy" Isabella back because my anger was something he could manage. It was an ego boost.

I pushed him away as I felt a sudden cramp blooming in my abdomen. "Don't."

"Let me make it up to you," His whisper was turning into a seductive rasp that used to make my knees weak. "I missed you, Bella. God, I missed you."

He didn't wait for an answer. He leaned down and captured my lips.

I wanted to push him away. I wanted to scream that he smelled like her, that his apologies didn’t mean nothing. But I couldn't let him know I already hated him. And my mind… it was betraying me.

When his hand slid up my thigh, a tremble tore through me.

I gasped into his mouth, and he took that as permission, deepening the kiss until I was dizzy.

“Tell me you want this.” He murmured against my neck. "Tell me you forgive me."

I don't, I thought. I hate you.

But as he moved over me, the memories of us him washed over me. Then the betrayal.

My stomach churned, but I forced my eyes shut.

Play the part, I screamed internally. Just play the part.

For a moment, I let myself pretend. I let myself pretend he was the man who loved me, the man who hadn't shattered our family.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

His hands began pulling the skirt of my dress up to my waist. When his fingers found the place between my thighs.

I hadn't been touched in a while. So, naturally I was ready despite my hatred. And I hated my body for betraying me. I hated that he still knew exactly how to touch me.

“You are so wet.” He murmured as he was nipping at the sensitive skin until I gasped. "You missed this, didn't you?"

"Yes," I lied. "Mateo."

He undid his belt and thrust his cock into my core.

Tears fell from my eyes. Not because of pleasure. But because hatred. Because he I knew he fucked Valentina the same.

Yet, I arched my body to meet him, seeking the release even as my mind quivered in disgust.

He set a punishing pace as he was grinding against me. His hands pinned my wrists above my head. He wanted total submission. He wanted to feel like a god.

So I gave it to him.

I clawed at his shoulders. I met his thrusts. I let out the needy, desperate sounds he wanted to hear. I turned my face into the pillow so he wouldn't see the dead look in my eyes. I focused on the physical sensation.. Not the feelings. I just tried to feel the slaps against my skin, not the man.

"You are mine, Bella.” He panted, thrusting harder. "Say it."

I shut my eyes tighter as I fought the bile rising in my throat. "Yours. I am yours." No, you lost me. I wanted to say.

He groaned when he finally came. Then he collapsed across me.

For a long moment, the only sound was our ragged breathing.

He kissed my damp forehead. He had no idea I was lying there counting the seconds until he got off me.

He finally rolled away, reaching for his trousers with a grin. "See? We are good. We are always good. Oh by the way.” He paused and pulled out a velvet box. "I have something for…”

Before he could finish his words, his phone rang. Mateo’s face stiffened when he grabbed his phone and glanced at the screen.

“Babe,” it read.

Valentina.

I caught the flicker of panic in his eyes as Mateo’s thumb flew to the "silent" button.

"Spam," He muttered, locking the phone. "They never stop."

I didn’t speak. I just watched.

His phone didn't stop vibrating. New messages. One after another.

Sighing, he unlocked the phone and read it. “Stomach pain,” I heard him mutter under his breath.

Before I could ask, before I could even move, he fumbled with the ring box, placed it in my lap, and muttered something about a sudden company emergency.

And just like that, he was gone

I looked down at the box. I didn't open it. A while later, my phone buzzed in my lap.

Valentina: I’m having such bad stomach pain, so I asked Mateo to come over and keep me company. You won’t be mad, right?

Then she sent another message with photo.

Oh, right. He is so sweet. Look what he bought me. Do you think it’s pretty?

Attached was a photo of her hand. On her finger was the exact same marquise-cut diamond ring that sat in the box in my lap. He hadn't even bought two different rings. He had bought a set. A buy-one-get-one-free for the wife and the whore.

I almost laughed.

Later that day, I went to the hospital for a checkup. My morning sickness had worsened.

I held the appointment slip in my hand and walked slowly, one step at a time, reminding myself to breathe. Just a checkup, I told myself. Just make sure the baby is fine.

I was turning the corner toward the obstetrics wing when voices reached me.

Familiar ones.

I stopped without thinking.

I froze, pressing my back against the wall.

“…are you insane?” The female voice snapped. I recognized it right away. Sofia’s. My step mother. Her voice carried easily down the corridor. “She is pregnant, Mateo. Pregnant. Do you know what that means? That child is the future heir.”

“I don’t care what excuses you have,” Sofia continued. “You divorce Isabella. Immediately. You marry Valentina.”

Valentina’s voice followed, sobbing, “Aunt Sofia, please… don’t yell. Mateo will listen. He just needs time.”

Then I heard the third voice. “Valentina, don’t worry. I will always support you. You are family. We won’t let you suffer alone.” It was my father. Gabriel.

I pressed my fingers into the wall to keep myself steady.

Sofia shouted again. "Listen to me, Mateo! If you won't marry my sister, I will take her straight to the hospital for an abortion! I would like to see what’s so great about that barren woman you call a wife!"

My breath hitched. Barren?

On the other end of the call, Mateo must have said something, because Sofia’s voice rose again. “Heartless! You sleep with her, get her pregnant, and feel nothing? After everything you have done together?”

Valentina broke then. “He said… he said I was more passionate than her. He said if He had met me first, he would have married me.”

I could see her face without looking. Tearful that made people feel sorry for her.

“He says I am more open than.” Valentina continued. “But when my stomach hurt, when I begged him to come… he said he would. And he never came. He only loves Isabella. Her tone shifted suddenly, it sounded so hateful. “That witch. She was born to ruin everything. Why doesn’t she just die already?”

My breath caught in my throat.

Sofia didn’t scold her. She sounded like she agreed with her. “She is not even a real Romano anyway.”

The words hit harder than any slap.

“Sofia?” Gabriel muttered. “Lower your voice.”

Sofia scoffed. “It’s the truth. That woman who gave birth to her was nothing but a maid. A nobody who trapped you.”

The world tilted. The floor felt like jelly beneath my feet. Not a Romano?

Sofia went on, “That girl has no right to the Romano name. No right to Mateo. No right to anything.”

Everything suddenly made sense.

The cold dinners. The way my father always looked past me. The constant reminders to be grateful, to be quieter, to stop causing trouble.

It was all a lie. My entire identity was a lie constructed to keep a secret.

Then Valentina’s voice rose. "Sofia, if he won't marry me, we need to take action. I saw Isabella a few days ago in the hospital. I think she is pregnant. I hope she isn't. But if she really is, we need to get rid of it. Whatever it takes."

My hand flew to my abdomen.

Sofia didn’t hesitate. “Of course. Without an heir from her, Mateo will have no reason to stay. And miscarriages happen all the time.”

“Or a fall.” Valentina said. “Just like Elina.”

I stopped breathing.

"That stupid woman." Valentina laughed. It felt like a physical blow. "She still thinks she left the baby alone. She doesn't know that Mateo was with me in the guest room…”

Sofia cut her off nervously, "Valentina, be careful…"

But Valentina didn't stop. “We were having sex. That poor baby fell, and Mateo heard the thud. He went to check, but he was so eager to get back to me that he just put Elena back in the crib and came back to finish what we started. He didn't even check if she was hurt."

"Enough!" Gabriel hissed. "Someone might hear you."

I didn't scream. I couldn't. I put my hand over my mouth as tears streamed down my face in silent.

Elena didn't die because of a grocery run. She died because her father chose his mistress’s bed over his daughter’s life.

He had watched me blame myself. He had watched his mother spit on me at the funeral. He had let me believe I was the monster so he wouldn't have to admit he was the devil.

And now, they were planning to kill the baby in my womb.

I needed to leave. I can't afford to wait six months anymore. I needed to move fast. I wouldn't let them hurt my baby again. I would take revenge for my Elena.

I wiped my tears off and took a step around the corner.

But before I could walk away, a hand grabbed my arm.

"Isabella!" I heard Sofia gasp as she yanked me into the corridor. "What are you doing skulking around?"

I looked at her. I looked at Gabriel, the man who wasn't my father. I looked at Valentina, the woman who had helped kill my daughter.

I didn't flinch. I didn't even stutter.

"I was just looking for the exit," I said, keeping my voice calm. "But I think I have finally found my way out."

Crushed tarts

Isabella’s POV

“Why are you here?” Sofia asked, narrowing her gaze.

I didn't blink. I just withdrew her hand from mine firmly. I had the lie ready before she could even finish the question. “I was here to see a psychiatrist.”

Nope, I couldn't let them find out the real reason.

Sofia’s eyes widened a little. Half surprised. Half pleased. “Oh, dear. Why? Are you okay?”

“I have been having trouble sleeping lately.” I said, letting my voice tremble just enough to sound fragile.

Gabriel came in front of me, glaring at me like I had embarrassed him by existing. “We need to talk, Isabella.” he said coldly.

“Yes?” I asked calmly. “I am listening.”

“How is it going on between you and Mateo?” He asked. He didn't ask how I was. He didn't care.

I didn't please him with the answer. I asked instead, “Why are you asking?”

“I am asking because you have failed in your duties as a wife.” Gabriel continued, his voice rising. “Three years of marriage and not a single child. In the past, a woman like you would’ve been thrown out of her husband’s house.”

He looked at me with such disdain I felt a chill settle in my bones.

"The only reason you’re still standing here is because Mateo is a loyal man." Gabriel added. "But even his patience has limits."

My mind screamed. Loyal? I had loved him all these years blindly. I had given him Elena. I had carried her, birthed her, and loved her with every cell in my body. And he had watched her die. No, he had caused her death and then spent a year gaslighting me into believing I was the one who failed.

And now, this man, my father was calling my husband "loyal" while the mistress stood two feet away, carrying his bastard. I wanted to laugh out loud.

I tilted my head, instead. “We don’t live in the past, Gabriel. If your brain can’t accept that, maybe you should get it checked. There’s a neurology department just down the hall.”

Gabriel’s eyes turned dark. He raised his hand, ready to strike. But I didn't move. I stared him right in the eye, daring him to do it. I wanted him to hit me. I wanted one more physical mark to prove exactly who these people were.

"No, stop!" Valentina cried, rushing forward. She grabbed his arm, playing the role of the gentle peacemaker. “Don’t be angry. Isabella is just emotional.” Then she turned to me, eyes full of false concern. “Isabella, don’t misunderstand. Your father is only worried about you two. Not having children has really weighed on Teo’s mind.”

Teo.

The name landed like poison. Once, that name belonged to me. Only me.

Now I knew exactly how long it had lived on her lips. How many nights it had been whispered while my daughter cried alone.

“Isabella, darling. I feel you.” Sofia added, stepping up beside her sister as she placed her hand on my shoulder. "I’ve been where you are. Sometimes, the best thing you can do for the man you love is to step aside.” She paused and I knew what was coming.

“Get to the point, Sofia,” I snapped.

Sofia looked offended but she continued, “You know, Valentina is carrying Mateo’s son. She can give him the future he deserves. But we won't throw you away, I promise. We’re family, after all. We’ll make sure you’re taken care of."

Family. This word was a joke to me. I wasn't their blood, and they were fucking murderers. They were standing here, in a hospital, planning how to "get rid of" the baby I was currently carrying, all while smiling and offering to "take care of me.

“Thank you.” I let out a sharp breath. “But I don't need to be taken care of. Especially by you.”

"You are being shameless, Isabella." Gabriel barked. "You’re hogging a position you don’t deserve. You have no right to the Santiago name anymore."

I just looked at the three of them. I couldn’t let them know I had heard the truth. About Elena. About the guest room. About the crib. If I did, my baby would be dead before it ever had a chance to cry.

I needed to make them believe I was already broken. I needed to give them exactly what they wanted.

I took a slow, shaky breath and looked down at the floor, playing the part of the defeated wife. "You are right, father." I whispered.

Gabriel paused, his hand dropping to his side. "What?"

I looked up, letting a single, well-timed tear roll down my cheek. "I'm tired of fighting. I’m not interested in being Mrs. Santiago anymore.” I paused, faking sadness as I looked at Valentina. “If Valentina wants the title so badly... she can have it."

Valentina’s eyes lit up slowly. Sofia and Gabriel exchanged a look of victory. They thought they had won. They thought they had finally bullied the "troublemaker" into submission.

“Bella?”

The sudden voice came from behind. I didn't need to turn to know it was Mateo. Of course, he was here.

Before anyone else could react, he rushed forward, pushing past Gabriel and Sofia to stand in front of me. He almost looked like a hero. He almost looked like a devoted husband. Almost.

“What’s wrong? Why did you say that?” He asked. He heard it. He heard when I said I wasn't interested in being a Santiago anymore.

I looked at him. At the man who was in bed with my step-aunt while our baby cried. At the man who put his own injured baby back in her crib, and returned to sex with his mistress.

My eyes felt frozen in my face. I knew it showed.

Mateo’s expression cracked. For the first time since I’d known him, real panic crossed his face.

When he didn't get any answer from me, he turned his dark, piercing gaze on Valentina. "What did you say to her?" He demanded angrily.

I could see the sweat on his brow. He was terrified that I had found out his secrets.

I stared at his broad back. I wanted to lean in and whisper it into his ear. I know. I know you were with her. I know you let Elena die.

But not yet. It wasn't not the best time.

“She's just jealous, Mateo. Forget about her." I dismissed. Then I pointed to the floor where he’d dropped a small paper bag in his rush. "Opps. You dropped something."

Mateo’s shoulders relaxed visibly. He turned and picked up a box of custard tarts before he held them out to me, "I waited thirty minutes in line for these, Bella." He said, trying to lovebomb me. "I remembered you said you liked the ones from that bakery across town."

He opened the box. The tarts were crushed. Shattered. Just like our marriage.

“It's destroyed.” He sighed.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said flatly. “It’s not like this is the only place that makes custard tarts I like.”

And you are not the only man I like in the world. I wanted to say. But I didn't say and he didn't understand.

He smiled, looking relieved. “I promise I’ll find others. I’ll search the whole city if I have to.”

I saw Valentina’s jaw tighten. The mistress was losing her cool because the wife was being "spoiled." For the first time, I felt something close to amusement.

"Why are you here, Mateo?" I asked.

Before he could answer, Valentina stepped forward and slid her arm through his, "Bella." she said sweetly, leaning in. “I’m pregnant. I wanted Mateo to take me for a checkup. He’s the most reliable person in the family. I feel safer with him.”

Mateo immediately pulled his arm away as his eyes shifted to mine. "Bella, don't misunderstand—"

"I hate her, Mateo." I didn't hide the disgust. It was the only honest thing left in the room. "And yet you’re taking time off work to play escort for her? Are you trying to make me vomit?"

"Isabella, stop being so stubborn!" Gabriel barked from the side. "You're holding a grudge over nothing!"

"She's always had such a temper," Sofia added, shaking her head. “One day, it will ruin her.”

Mateo turned on them instantly. "How dare you speak to her like that?” He snapped. “Are you looking for trouble?"

He was playing the protector again. It was his favorite role. But Valentina knew exactly how to break the spell.

"Oh! My stomach..." She gasped, her hand flying to her abdomen. She bent forward, her face contorting in fake pain. "Teo... something is wrong. The baby..."

It was the most amateur acting I had ever seen.

Gabriel rushed to her side. Sofia cried out. “Oh my God.”

Mateo didn’t hesitate. He let go of my hand. The box of custard tarts fell to the floor.

He didn't waste time. He gathered Valentina into his arms, almost panicking. "Don't worry.” He said as he lifted her against his chest. "I’ve got you. I’ll get the doctor."

As he turned to run, Valentina looked over his shoulder. The pain vanished from her face for a split second. She looked me dead in the eye and her lips curved in victory.

Gabriel and Sofia scuried after them like loyal dogs.

"Mateo?" I called out. "What are you doing?"

He didn't even stop. "Bella, a life is at risk here! Don't be unreasonable. Don't cause a scene. Just go home and wait for me!"

I stood there alone as I watched his back. I didn't cry. Oh, I didn't even feel sad. All I felt was rage. And all I wanted to taste was revenge. On that man who let my baby die, the woman who helped kill her, the family who never wanted me.

That's enough. I wouldn't let them hurt me again. I wouldn't let them hurt my baby again. I had already lost Elena because Mateo couldn't control his lust. I wouldn't let it repeat. I won't lose my baby again. Not for them. I would protect her from anyone.

Slowly, I placed my hand over my own stomach. "Did you see that, little one?" I whispered. "That was the last time he will ever turn his back on us."

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed Irene’s number.

"It's me." I said when she answered. "I know I was supposed to leave in 3 weeks. But I can't stay here anymore. They will find the baby. I will leave New York in 48 hours. I will let him think I am his wife but just a sad one who needs distance. For three weeks."

Already gone

Isabella’s POV

“Mrs. Santiago,” A middle-aged doctor called as he walked in. Dr. Evans. He held my file in his hand. “We have the results of your blood test. You are 5 weeks pregnant. Congra—”

“Stop.” I said.

It made him pause. He looked up at me in confusion.

I reached into my bag and pulled out a thick white envelope. Inside, there was five thousand dollars in cash. I had been saving this money in secret for months, just in case.

I placed the envelope on the metal tray next to him.

As Dr. Evans looked at the money, his eyes widened. He looked back at me as I continued.

“I am not pregnant,” I uttered clearly. “I am stressed. I have severe depression. I have insomnia. That’s why I fainted. That is why I am throwing up.”

He swallowed hard as he glanced at the door to make sure it was closed. Then he looked at the envelope again.

“Mrs. Santiago… this is unethical.”

“This is necessary.” I corrected him. “If my husband finds out I am pregnant, my baby will be in danger. Do you understand?”

I didn't wait for him to answer. I leaned forward. “Write the diagnosis. Depression. Insomnia. Prescribe me sleeping pills. That is all.”

Dr. Evans hesitated for one second. Then, he picked up the envelope and slid it into his pocket. He took his pen and crossed something out on the file.

“You need rest, Mrs. Santiago,” he said, faking a professional tone. “Your depression is severe. I am prescribing sedatives.”

I let out a breath in relief. “Thank you.”

An hour later, I took a taxi and told the driver to go to the East District. It was a dirty part of the city. A place where billionaire wives were never supposed to go.

I pulled my coat tight around me and shoved a hand into my pocket. Inside it, I grabbed the velvet box. It was the ring Mateo had left behind earlier. The "apology" gift. The same one he bought for Valentina.

Taking a deep breath, I walked into a small shop. The sign flashed “Pawn Shop”. But everyone knew what it really was. It was a place where stolen things found new owners.

The man behind the counter had a scar on his cheek. He looked at my expensive clothes and smirked, “Lost your way, princess?”

I said nothing as I took out the ring box and slammed it on the counter. “I want to sell.” I said. “Cash only. No receipts. No paper trail.”

The man whistled as he picked up the five-carat ring. He looked at it under a light. “This is top quality.” He muttered. “Santiago Group design?” He looked at me suspiciously.

“Do you want to buy it or not?” I asked humourlessly.

He grinned, showing yellow teeth. “I’ll give you fifty thousand.”

It was worth triple that. He was robbing me. But I didn't have the time to bargain. I needed the money.

“Done.” I said instantly.

He went to the back and returned with a duffel bag full of cash. I counted it quickly.

I put them into my backpack and left the shop.

I walked two blocks to a noisy internet café filled with teenagers playing video games. I pulled the hood of my coat up and paid cash for a private booth in the back.

Mateo called me "boring." He said I was old-fashioned. He thought I spent my days shopping or reading romance novels. He never asked what I was doing on my laptop during those long, lonely nights while he was "working late.”

He didn't remember I had a degree in Computer Science. He didn't know I spent the last year learning cybersecurity to distract myself from the grief of losing Elena.

Heaving a deep sigh, I sat at the computer. My fingers glid across the keyboard. I bypassed the café’s security firewall in ten seconds.

Then, I accessed the Tor network. The Dark Web. The screen turned black with green text. This was my world.

I navigated to a secure marketplace I had found months ago. I ordered a "Clean Slate" package. Passport, Driver’s License, Birth Certificate. High quality. Registered in the real database.

I paid using Bitcoin I had scooped secretly on Mateo’s powerful gaming server when he wasn't home.

Then, I hacked into the hospital’s main server. It took me three minutes to break their outdated encryption. I found my file.

Patient: Isabella Santiago.

Notes: Pregnancy Test - POSITIVE.

Dr. Evans had changed the paper file, but the digital log was still there. If Mateo checked the system, he would know.

I typed a command.

Delete.

Rewrite: “Patient shows signs of hormonal imbalance due to extreme stress. Negative for pregnancy.”

I hit Enter.

The screen blinked and instantly, the truth was gone.

I leaned back in the cheap chair and touched my stomach. “You won't find us, Mateo.” I whispered to the screen. “I am already gone.”

My final stop was a small law firm in a corner of the city. Mr. Henderson was an old lawyer, famous for keeping mouth shut. Irene gave me his contact

I sat in his messy office. I placed a document on his desk.

“Divorce papers.” He said, reading the title.

Author's Note: Hello dear readers, Thank you for joining me in Isabella's Journey to freedom. I would request to sit tight, hold your breath for the coming chapters. You would love every moment of it. But please, don’t forget to add the book to your library, leave your precious comments and reviews. They mean a lot to me. Follow me on I* author_ilma or Find my F* page Author I.R for more.