When I saw Robin and a group of his men running in, my blood boiled.

"I didn't lay a finger on her," I said, my voice ice-cold as I fought to control my temper. "She did this to herself."

In that moment, I made up my mind. If Robin believed her bullshit for one second, I was walking out on this marriage and never looking back.

But to my surprise, Robin’s eyes swept the scene, and then he took off his jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders. "Are you cold?"

I stared at him, stunned.

He believed me?

Isabella couldn't believe it either. She got even more frantic. "Robin, look at my face! Look at my arm! She did this!"

"I just begged her to share a little bit of your love with me, and she attacked me! She said only a dead woman can't steal a man..."

Robin's expression remained cold, unmoved.

Isabella gritted her teeth and went for the kill. "She also said she only married you to get inside the Kane family! She's going to sell our secrets to our rivals to build her own company! Are you going to protect a traitor?"

At that, the family elders standing behind Robin stiffened.

"That's a serious accusation," one of them said gravely. "If that's true, she's a spy."

"Isabella wouldn't lie," another one added. "She grew up in this family. She has no reason to frame her."

A smug little smile played on Isabella's lips.

Their accusations only fueled my rage. I was about to step forward and show Isabella what real violence looked like when Robin's hand shot out and stopped me.

My heart sank. So he was starting to doubt me?

"Let go," I said coldly. "If you don't trust me, I'm leaving right now."

Robin didn't let go. His grip tightened. He looked at the agitated elders, his authority as the Don rolling off him in waves.

"Zora is not that kind of person. I trust her."

His voice cut through the tension. "Does anyone dare to question my judgment?"

The room fell silent.

Isabella stared, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Robin, you can't let her fool you! Look at my injuries…"

"I see them," Robin said, walking toward her. He looked at her like she was a clown in a circus.

"Isabella, if you're going to put on a show, at least commit to the role."

He pointed to her swollen cheek.

"Did you know," he said, his voice dangerously low, "that a self-inflicted slap leaves a completely different mark than one from someone else's hand?"