Chapter 14
“Vincent, what are you saying…? You don’t love me?” Isabella’s voice shot up, the color draining from her face. “How is that possible? You clearly…”
“I apologize for the misunderstanding,” Vincent’s voice was so calm it was cruel. “Back then, my associates‘ daughters were a nuisance. I needed a shield.”
A shield?!
Isabella’s face turned white as a sheet.
He paused, then continued, “As compensation, I deposited half a million dollars into your account every year. I thought we had an understanding that it was a transaction.”
“Then you took a bullet for me and nearly died, so I’ve catered to your every whim since. That was my debt to you.” His gaze rested calmly on her pale face. “But that’s all there is to it.”
The room erupted.
The envious glances instantly turned to mockery and contempt. Whispers rushed toward Isabella like a tidal wave.
“I knew it. A man of Vincent’s status would never fall for someone from the Torrino family…”
“She acted like it was real, but it was all in her head.”
“Vincent is famously unattainable. He rejected an Italian princess. Who does she think she is?”
Every word was a knife in Isabella’s heart. Her reputation was everything. She had planned this for three months, of New York’s high society, determined to become Mrs. Marcelli in the most glamorous way possible.
“I heard her mother used her looks to marry into the Romano family. Like mother, like daughter, I suppose. Always climb the social ladder.”
But now…
She trembled, her nails digging deep into her palms.
If Vincent didn’t love her, then who did he love?
A terrible thought surfaced: Could it be… Sophia?
The idea nearly drove her mad. Isabella shook her head violently, refusing to believe it.
The next second, Vincent was turning to leave.
“Vincent!” She clung to his sleeve with the last shred of her dignity. “In all these years did you really never feel anything forme?”
[And when you faked those injuries and fainted to get my sympathy, I played along, didn’t I?]
His fingers paused over the screen, then he added:
[The necklace. I didn’t lend you the money because you had the wrong one. Your mother’s real necklace was with a private collector in London. The one Isabella bought was a fake.]
[I have the real one now.]
The messages went out, one after another, meeting only silence.
Vincent rubbed his temples and sent one more: [You burned down the mansion. If you’re still not satisfied, do you want to burn another one?]
After a long wait, the phone remained quiet. Still no response.
His patience finally snapped. Vincent dialed Don Romano’s number directly. “Is Sophia home? Get her on the phone.”
On the other end, Don Romano’s voice was full of surprise. “Vincent? Didn’t you know? Sophia… I already married her someone in Boston!”
The phone slipped from Vincent’s hand, clattering onto the car floor.

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