Arabella's POV

The moment I called him by his familiar nickname, I saw the tension leave Nathaniel’s body.

His shoulders relaxed almost instantly, and the guarded look in his eyes softened into something that would have looked reassuring to anyone who did not know him as intimately as I did. For years, only I had called him Dom. It was a name reserved for the rare moments when I was affectionate, vulnerable, or desperate to bridge the emotional distance that had grown between us over time. Hearing it now clearly reassured him that nothing had changed, and whatever suspicion had briefly stirred in him seemed to disappear.

He crossed the room and bent toward me, intending to kiss me, but just before his lips touched mine, I turned my head slightly so that his kiss landed against my cheek.

“I’m tired,” I said as I pulled the blanket over myself. “It’s been a long day.”

Something in his expression tightened for the briefest moment, though he concealed it quickly behind a practiced smile.

“Of course,” he said gently. “You should rest.”

His voice remained warm, but I did not miss the flicker of irritation in his eyes. Nathaniel had never handled rejection well, especially not from me. He had become accustomed to my devotion and to the certainty that no matter how distant or cold he became, I would always be the one to close the gap between us.

Before either of us spoke again, his phone lit up on the bedside table.

Nathaniel reached for it immediately.

I watched him carefully.

The faint irritation vanished from his face almost at once, replaced by a warmth so effortless and genuine that something inside me turned to ice. The corners of his mouth lifted into a smile, and although he tried to suppress it, there was no mistaking the tenderness in his expression.

He got out of bed and began dressing with unusual haste.

“Something came up at the office,” he said while buttoning his shirt without looking at me. “I may be gone for a few hours.”

“Of course,” I replied evenly. “Take your time.”

He stopped.

Surprise flashed across his face.

Ordinarily, I would have asked questions. I would have reminded him how often urgent business seemed to drag him away in the middle of the night. I would have complained that even the head of Ashford Holdings owed his wife more than occasional scraps of attention.

Tonight, however, I offered no resistance.

His phone lit up again.

Whatever confusion he felt disappeared beneath renewed urgency.

“I love you,” he said softly as he moved toward the door.

The words barely registered.

Only after he disappeared into the hallway did I allow myself to whisper the truth into the silence.

“And I hate you.”

Sleep never truly came that night. I drifted in and out of restless exhaustion, and when dawn finally arrived, Nathaniel still had not returned.

I felt no surprise.

He had most likely spent the night with Genevieve.

The thought should have shattered me.

Instead, it left behind only a dull numbness.

After dressing, I left for the private clinic where I had scheduled the procedure.

The drive passed in complete silence. My thoughts were too tangled to form anything coherent, and by the time I entered the procedure room, my heartbeat had become painfully loud.

The room was warm and softly lit, designed to calm anxious patients. The scent of antiseptic mingled with lavender from a diffuser in the corner. Everything about the space was meant to feel safe.

Nothing could quiet the storm inside me.

The doctor stood beside the examination bed, her expression gentle but serious.

“Are you certain about this, Mrs. Sterling?”

I opened my mouth to answer.

No sound came.

My hand moved instinctively to my stomach.

Memories rose without warning.

Noah’s bright laughter.

His tiny hand wrapped around my finger.

The way his face lit up every time he ran toward me.

The joy he had brought into my life.

Tears burned behind my eyes.

I could not do it.

I could not willingly end this life.

Not after losing him.

Not after everything.

“I can’t,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I’ve changed my mind.”

The doctor studied me for a moment before nodding with quiet understanding.

“That is entirely your decision,” she said. “Take all the time you need.”

My child deserved the chance to live.

Whatever darkness surrounded me, this baby was innocent.

This child was mine.

And I would never allow anyone to take another child from me.

When I finally left the clinic, my mind remained heavy with thought. I barely noticed where I was walking until a familiar laugh reached my ears.

I froze.

Every muscle in my body tightened.

Nathaniel.

Genevieve.

They were walking out of the maternity wing together, smiling with the comfortable intimacy of two people who had long stopped caring whether the world noticed them.

Nathaniel’s hand rested against the small of Genevieve’s back as he leaned down to say something that made her laugh softly.

Then my gaze dropped.

Genevieve’s hand rested protectively over her stomach.

Understanding hit me with brutal clarity.

She was pregnant.

They saw me before I could turn away.

Genevieve’s face paled immediately.

“Arabella.”

She hurried toward me, wide-eyed, her concern carefully arranged.

“This isn’t what it looks like. Nathaniel only came to accompany me.”

“Don’t apologize, Genevieve,” Nathaniel said, resting a hand on her shoulder.

His eyes softened when he looked at her.

The tenderness there was impossible to miss.

“You’ve done nothing wrong.”

I smiled.

Even I was surprised by how calm I sounded.

“Yes,” I said, meeting his gaze. “You’re right. She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

I stood there watching them.

The way he protected her.

The way warmth radiated from him whenever she was near.

The way his body instinctively positioned itself as though shielding her from the world.

Everything I had once believed belonged to me had never truly been mine.

Both of them seemed unsettled by my composure.

In the past, seeing them too close would have stirred jealousy in me. Nathaniel always dismissed my concerns with irritation, accusing me of being insecure.

She’s your sister, Arabella. She’s married. We’re only friends.

I had believed him every single time.

Nathaniel finally turned toward me.

“We’ll talk at home,” he said. “Let me take Genevieve first.”

I did not hesitate.

“Take your time.”

I moved past them without waiting for a response.

Then I stopped and looked back.

“And congratulations on the baby, Genevieve.”

The silence behind me told me everything.

Neither of them had expected that.

By evening, Nathaniel returned home much earlier than usual.

He entered our bedroom quietly, but I already sensed him.

“You’re early,” I said without looking up from the book resting in my lap.

“Yes,” he replied after a pause. “I finished early because I wanted to spend time with my wife.”

He leaned down to kiss me.

Again, I shifted just enough for his lips to brush my cheek.

Nathaniel froze.

I kept my gaze on the page, though I had not read a single word.

After a long silence, he sat beside me.

“I feel as though we’ve grown distant,” he said quietly. “Maybe I should step back from work for a while.”

I gave a small shrug.

“You’ve been busy. I understand.”

His brows slowly drew together.

He knew how unlike me this was.

For years, I had begged for scraps of his time.

Now I offered indifference.

His voice lowered.

“What is going on, Arabella?”

I finally lifted my gaze to meet his.

I studied the man I had once loved with all my heart. I studied the face I had kissed, trusted, and built a life around. It amazed me how easily monsters could wear beautiful faces.

Then I closed the book and asked the question that made his entire body go still.

“Why are you acting like a husband now,” I said calmly, “when you’ve spent years being someone else’s lover?”

Arabella's POV

My eyes remained on the open book resting in my lap as I answered him, although I had stopped reading several pages ago.

“Nothing.”

Nathaniel did not respond right away. Even without looking at him, I could feel his gaze fixed on me, sharp and probing, as if he were trying to strip away the calm façade I had so carefully constructed and uncover whatever lay beneath it. When he finally spoke, his voice carried the measured patience of a man already irritated but determined to keep that irritation under control.

“Is this about what you saw at the clinic?” he asked. “Because I have explained to you more times than I can count that there is nothing inappropriate between Genevieve and me.”

I cut him off before he could continue.

“I already told you that I’m fine,” I said as I turned another page with deliberate indifference. “You and Genevieve can define your relationship however you like. If you insist that you are simply close, then I see no reason to argue. All I want right now is a little peace and quiet because this book is finally becoming interesting.”

The dismissal was polite, but impossible to misunderstand.

Nathaniel’s jaw tightened at once. Irritation flashed across his features before he masked it, and without another word, he turned and disappeared into the bathroom.

Only after the door shut did I allow myself a slow breath, although it did little to ease the tension coiled inside me. The air in the bedroom felt suffocating, heavy with everything that remained unsaid. After several more minutes of pretending to read, I closed the book and headed downstairs, hoping the quiet of the kitchen might steady me.

It did not.

I braced both hands against the marble counter and lowered my head, forcing myself to breathe slowly. My pulse still pounded with the memory of everything I had learned. No amount of self-control could erase the images that now haunted me: Nathaniel’s messages, Genevieve’s smile, the files hidden in his study, and above all, the unbearable truth about Noah.

I had spent years drowning in grief, never realizing how thoroughly I had been deceived. Now that illusion had shattered so completely that even my own home felt foreign.

I did not hear Nathaniel approach until his voice sounded behind me.

“You’ve been acting strangely all day, Arabella.”

There was no softness in his voice now. Whatever patience he had tried to maintain was wearing thin.

“If something is wrong, say it.”

I turned slowly, keeping my expression composed.

“I already told you,” I said. “I’m fine.”

Then, because some wounded and furious part of me refused to remain silent, I added, “Why don’t you spend this energy worrying about Genevieve and her baby instead?”

Something changed in his face.

The shift was subtle but unmistakable. His eyes darkened, and the restraint in him began to crack.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

I lifted one shoulder in a small shrug and stepped away from the counter.

“It means exactly what it sounds like,” I replied. “You seem far more concerned about her than your own wife.”

That was all it took.

The last of Nathaniel’s patience snapped.

“You’re being ridiculous again, Arabella,” he said, his voice rising. “Genevieve is your sister. I am tired of this childish jealousy and constant suspicion.”

A bitter laugh escaped me.

“I’m not jealous.”

I held his gaze without blinking.

“You deserve each other.”

For one suspended moment, silence filled the space between us.

Then Nathaniel moved.

The shove came so suddenly that my body had no time to react. His hand struck my shoulder with enough force to send me backward. My lower back slammed into the sharp edge of the counter before I collapsed onto the floor.

Pain exploded through me.

The impact sent a violent shock through my spine and abdomen, so intense that the world tilted. A cry tore from my throat before I could stop it.

Nathaniel stared down at me, his chest rising and falling.

If guilt touched him, it vanished quickly.

His face hardened.

“I have important business tonight,” he said coldly, as though I were nothing more than an inconvenience. “Don’t wait up.”

Then he turned and walked out.

The front door slammed.

Silence followed.

Only seconds later, pain surged through my abdomen in terrible waves. Instinctively, both hands flew to my stomach as dread consumed me. That dread became raw horror when warmth began spreading between my legs.

My blood ran cold.

Blood.

I looked down with shaking hands and saw crimson soaking through my clothes.

“No…”

The word broke apart in my throat.

Tears blurred my vision as panic swallowed every coherent thought. Crawling toward the wall, I reached for my phone with trembling fingers and called Nathaniel.

The line connected.

Relief hit me so hard I nearly sobbed.

“R-Dom…”

His voice came through cold and furious.

“Do not call me again until you’re ready to stop acting like a child.”

The call ended.

I stared at the screen in disbelief before trying again.

This time the call failed immediately.

He had blocked me.

The pain worsened.

So did the bleeding.

Panic devoured everything.

With what little strength remained, I called emergency services and sent my location. Even as I did, darkness had already begun closing in around the edges of my vision. The kitchen blurred. The floor beneath me seemed to vanish.

As consciousness slipped away, one final thought burned through the agony.

If I lose this child, Nathaniel will pay for everything.

Darkness swallowed me.

When awareness returned, it came slowly through the sterile scent of antiseptic and the soft beeping of hospital monitors. For several seconds, I could not remember where I was.

Then memory returned.

Terror hit me so violently that my eyes flew open.

My hand shot to my stomach.

“My baby…”

The doctor beside my bed went still.

Her expression told me everything before she spoke.

She placed a gentle hand over mine, and the sorrow in her eyes shattered the last fragile piece of hope inside me.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Ashford,” she said quietly. “We did everything we could, but we were unable to save the baby.”

The words struck with devastating force.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

Then grief tore through me with unbearable violence. A scream escaped my throat, raw and broken, before sobs followed with such force that my entire body shook. I cried without restraint as agony consumed me.

Noah was gone.

Now this child was gone too.

Nathaniel had taken both from me.

He had destroyed every future I had dared to imagine.

I cried until exhaustion left me hollow. When even tears abandoned me, I lay motionless beneath the blankets, staring at the ceiling with an emptiness so vast it frightened me.

The door opened sometime later.

I lacked the strength to look.

“Hello, Arabella.”

The voice was deep, calm, and unfamiliar.

Reluctantly, I turned my head.

Matteo White stood near my bed, his steel-gray eyes fixed on me with unreadable intensity.

Genevieve’s husband.

The sight of him reopened wounds I had barely managed to contain because his presence brought with it everything I had lost.

He approached slowly before sitting in the chair beside my bed.

“I heard what happened,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

My throat burned from crying.

“Genevieve isn’t here,” I said hoarsely.

Something dark passed through his expression.

“No,” he said, his voice cool but edged with steel. “I’m not here because of that cheating wife of mine.”

Despite everything, surprise flickered through me.

“You know?”

He nodded.

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“A week.”

His gaze never left mine.

“You?”

“This week.”

Silence settled between us.

There was something unsettling about the calm he projected. It felt less like peace and more like violence held under perfect discipline.

At last, he leaned back slightly.

“That is exactly why I came.”

Exhaustion still weighed heavily on me, but curiosity cut through the fog of grief.

“What do you want?”

Matteo studied me for several long seconds.

When he finally spoke, his voice was steady, cold, and completely without hesitation.

“I came because I believe we can help each other.”

I frowned faintly.

“How?”

A slow, dangerous smile touched his mouth, though it never reached his eyes.

He leaned forward slightly.

“Tell me, Arabella,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “how would you feel about destroying them together?”

Arabella's POV

“Revenge?”

The word left my lips so quietly it was almost a whisper, yet it seemed to echo through the hospital room with startling force. My heartbeat quickened as I stared at Matteo White, trying to decide whether I had misheard him or whether he truly meant what he had just said.

Matteo lowered himself into the chair beside my bed with unhurried grace. There was nothing careless about the way he moved; every gesture felt deliberate, every shift of posture controlled. He carried himself like a man accustomed to power, but unlike Nathaniel’s polished arrogance, Matteo’s presence felt colder, more dangerous. His steel-gray eyes held a restraint that somehow felt more threatening than open rage.

“Yes,” he said at last, his voice calm and unwavering. “Revenge.”

He held my gaze as though he expected me to look away first.

“Think carefully, Arabella,” he continued. “The two people who should have loved you above everyone else betrayed you in the cruelest way possible. They took your trust, your devotion, and your children as if none of it had value. If you allow them to walk away untouched, they will continue believing they can destroy lives without consequence.”

Something unsettling stirred inside me as I listened.

It was not comfort.

It was not relief.

It was something far more dangerous.

Purpose.

For the first time since learning the truth about Noah, I felt something other than grief and helplessness. The feeling rose slowly, sharp and intoxicating, from the ashes of everything Nathaniel had destroyed.

Ignoring the dull ache still radiating through my body, I shifted upright against the pillows and studied Matteo more carefully.

“So this is about Genevieve too,” I said. “You want revenge against her.”

A faint smile touched his mouth, though it brought no warmth to his expression.

“I gave her everything a husband could give,” he said. “My loyalty, my protection, my name, and every advantage that came with being Mrs. White. In return, she humiliated me.”

His eyes darkened.

“So yes, I want revenge.”

Even before he spoke again, I knew what he was thinking.

She is your sister.

The thought no longer had any power over me.

I cut him off before he could say it.

“Why come to me?” I asked. “Why involve me at all?”

That faint smile returned, colder than before.

“Because revenge rarely satisfies when pursued alone,” he said. “And because whether you realize it or not, Arabella, you are essential to what happens next.”

I folded my arms and regarded him warily.

“What exactly do you want from me?”

Matteo did not blink.

Then he answered with devastating simplicity.

“I want you to marry me.”

The words hit me like ice water.

For several seconds, I could only stare at him, convinced I had misunderstood.

But his expression remained perfectly serious.

There was no trace of humor.

No hesitation.

He meant every word.

Two days later, after the doctors finally cleared me for discharge, I returned to the Ashford estate beneath a pale golden sky.

During those two days, Nathaniel had not come once.

There had been no calls.

No messages.

No inquiries.

Nothing.

The truth settled heavily inside me.

I had spent two days in a hospital after losing our child, and my husband had not even noticed my absence.

As the car rolled toward the estate, Matteo’s proposal replayed in my mind.

I had rejected him immediately.

The idea of binding myself to another loveless marriage felt unbearable. I had already sacrificed seven years of my life to a relationship built on deception. I could not imagine willingly stepping into another prison.

Still, before leaving, Matteo had pressed a small black card into my hand.

A private number.

“In case you change your mind,” he had said.

I had told myself I would never use it.

At least, that was what I believed.

When I arrived home, my steps slowed.

A sleek black Rolls-Royce bearing the White crest stood near the entrance.

Genevieve.

Of course.

That explained Nathaniel’s silence.

The realization should have made me angry, but what I felt instead was something colder.

Understanding.

I pushed open the front doors and stepped inside.

The house was unusually quiet.

Then I heard it.

A sound.

Soft.

Breathless.

Intimate.

I froze.

My body moved before my thoughts could catch up, carrying me toward the source of the sound until I reached the hallway leading to our bedroom.

The door stood slightly open.

What I saw beyond it rooted me to the floor.

Nathaniel had Genevieve pinned against the bed, his body bent over hers while his hands moved across her waist and bare back with shameless familiarity. Their clothes lay scattered across the floor, discarded without care.

I had known.

I had read the messages.

I had heard the truth.

Still, nothing had prepared me for the brutality of seeing them together.

There is a particular cruelty in watching betrayal take physical form.

Tears blurred my vision.

Neither of them noticed me.

“My love,” Nathaniel murmured against her skin, his voice heavy with desire, “I missed you.”

Genevieve laughed softly and traced her fingers across his chest.

“Did you?” she asked teasingly. “Don’t tell me my sister still fails to satisfy you.”

Nathaniel gave a low laugh.

“She never did,” he said without hesitation. “Not the way you do.”

The words cut deeper than anything before them.

Every breath hurt.

Every heartbeat felt wrong.

Nathaniel lifted her chin and kissed her again.

“When I take full control of Ashford Holdings,” he said, “I’ll give you everything. No one will stand between us.”

For several unbearable seconds, I could not move.

Then something inside me changed.

The last fragile piece of me that still mourned the marriage Nathaniel and I once had quietly died.

I took out my phone.

Without making a sound, I recorded everything.

A few seconds.

Then more.

Enough.

I lowered the phone.

Without a word, I turned away.

In the entrance hall, Nathaniel’s car keys rested on the side table.

I picked them up.

Minutes later, sitting alone inside the car, I stared at the video on my screen.

My hand tightened around Matteo’s card.

For a long time, I simply stared at the number.

Then I dialed.

He answered on the first ring.

I sent him the recording.

Then I spoke only four words.

“I accept your offer.”

His response came immediately, as though he had expected this moment all along.

“Good,” Matteo said, his voice calm and certain. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

I leaned back against the leather seat and let out a hollow laugh.

It felt as though I had just handed my soul to the devil.

Strangely, the thought did not frighten me.

I no longer feared monsters.

I had already loved one.

Following the address Matteo had given me, I drove straight to a private legal office that specialized in high-profile divorces and corporate settlements.

Inside, a receptionist greeted me with practiced professionalism.

“How may we assist you, ma’am?”

“I’m here to see Samuel Reed,” I said. “Matteo White sent me.”

Recognition flashed across her face, followed by immediate deference.

“Of course. Mr. Reed is expecting you.”

A few minutes later, I was escorted into a private office lined with legal books and confidential case files.

A silver-haired man rose from behind an oak desk and extended his hand.

“Mrs. Ashford,” he said politely. “Please, have a seat.”

I sat across from him without hesitation.

For a moment, he studied me, perhaps expecting uncertainty.

He found none.

When I finally spoke, my voice was calm, steady, and entirely free of doubt.

“I want to file for divorce from Nathaniel Ashford,” I said.

I held his gaze.

“And I want to make sure he loses everything.”