The morning of the surgery, Lorenzo pulled out a small jewelry box before he left.

“For you, my love,” he said softly, his eyes holding their usual warmth.

I opened it. A diamond bracelet.

The free gift to the sapphire brooch he bought Isabella.

My fingers tightened. I looked up and smiled at him. “Thank you. I love it.”

His lips curved up. He leaned in and gave me a deep, possessive kiss. “Bella,” he murmured against my mouth, “always my good girl.”

The second he was gone, the fake smile fell from my face.

Yeah. So good I let you play me for a fool.

Before the clinic, I made one last stop. The Rossi manor, my family’s estate.

I wasn’t even through the door when I heard their voices.

Isabella, whining. “What’s Arabella so proud of? She actually dared to grab my wrist yesterday!”

My mother, soothing her. “Just be patient a little longer. You wanted her fiancé, and we made that happen for you, didn’t we? This is the same. Just wait.”

My father sighed. “You need to stop making trouble. We finally have a Moretti heir on the way. If they find out how this baby was really conceived, it’ll cause another scandal. It would be bad for Lorenzo.”

Lorenzo. He was there. His voice was calm and firm.

“Isabella, don’t worry. I brought the report from yesterday. Everything is normal. We just have to wait for the birth.” He paused. “Father, Mother, you don’t have to worry either. I’m fine. I’d do anything for Isabella.”

My fingertips went numb. The blood in my veins turned to ice.

They all knew.

They planned this. All of them.

From the very beginning, I was just a pawn.

Enough.

I looked down at the diamond bracelet on my wrist.

The free gift.

Just like my place in this marriage. In this family.

I ripped the bracelet from my wrist. Diamonds scattered across the floor like cruel, glittering tears. The skin on my wrist was red and raw, but it was nothing compared to the agony in my heart.

I turned and walked away.

A short while later, a maid knocked on the door with coffee.

Lorenzo opened it. As he reached for the tray, his eyes froze.

On the floor by the door, the broken bracelet lay among a spray of glittering diamonds.

The one he had put on my wrist himself.

His face changed. His breath hitched. He lunged into the hall, looking around wildly, raw panic in his eyes.

He called, frantic.

I let it connect.

His voice was tight with anxiety. “Bella, where are you? Listen to me, I can explain—”

I said nothing.

His voice grew more desperate. “Bella! What the hell is going on? Where are you?!”

Then, a nurse’s cool voice cut through the line, clear as day.

“Mrs. Falcone, the operating room is ready. We just need your signature.”

The other end of the line went dead silent. It sounded like he was choking.

Then, he exploded.

“Surgery? Where are you?! What surgery?!”

It was almost a roar, his voice filled with a terror I’d never heard before.

I stared at my phone. My thumb swiped across the screen.

End Call.

Power Off.