Chapter 4 - SHE LET HIM HATE HER TO KEEP HIM ALIVE
The medical file was not about Adriano’s mother.
That was Bianca’s second lie.
The truth was worse.
Twelve years earlier, someone had attempted to kill Adriano Morty.
He had never known.
Isabella had.
The evidence had been buried inside Romano family archives under a security classification only three people could access.
Adriano discovered it because his mother, Elena Morty, finally stopped protecting Isabella’s secret.
She arrived at his penthouse shortly after midnight and slapped him across the face.
Adriano did not move.
His seventy-year-old mother had never struck him before.
“That,” Elena said, trembling, “was for my granddaughter.”
Then she slapped him again.
“And that was for Isabella.”
“Mother—”
“Sit down.”
He obeyed.
Elena placed a folder before him.
Inside were photographs of a black Mercedes twisted against a highway barrier.
Adriano recognized the car.
His old Mercedes.
“I thought the brakes failed.”
“They were cut.”
His blood chilled.
“Who?”
“We never proved it.”
“Isabella knew?”
“She was the one who discovered it.”
Elena told him everything.
The night before the crash, Isabella had borrowed Adriano’s car.
She had noticed the brake pedal behaving strangely and called a Romano mechanic.
The mechanic found deliberate damage.
Isabella switched vehicles with Adriano without telling him and ordered security to follow her.
The following morning, the damaged Mercedes was remotely struck by a delivery truck connected to a shell company.
Isabella had been inside.
Adriano stood.
“What?”
“She nearly died protecting you.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Elena’s voice broke.
“She had three fractured ribs. A broken wrist. Internal bleeding.”
Adriano remembered.
Of course he remembered.
Isabella had disappeared for two weeks.
Her family told him she was visiting relatives in Italy.
He had been angry.
Bianca had broken up with him only months earlier, and Isabella—then his closest friend—had suddenly vanished when he needed her.
When Isabella returned, she wore long sleeves despite the summer heat.
He had accused her of abandoning him.
She had apologized.
Apologized.
Adriano covered his mouth.
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“Because the attacker was still watching you. Romano security believed whoever was behind it needed to think the sabotage had failed naturally.”
“And afterward?”
Elena looked at him with exhausted disappointment.
“Afterward you were building your company. Your father was dying. Luca was using drugs. Every time Isabella intended to tell you, another disaster came.”
Adriano whispered, “So she just kept carrying it.”
“Yes.”
Elena stood.
“That woman spent a decade standing between this family and every bullet we were too arrogant to see.”
Adriano looked toward the dark window.
“And I stood on a stage and told her I never loved her.”
His mother did not comfort him.
“You did.”
Three days later, Isabella attended the emergency board meeting.
Adriano saw her for the first time since the gala.
She wore a dark navy maternity dress and no wedding ring.
That missing ring nearly broke him.
The boardroom rose when she entered.
Not for Adriano.
For her.
Isabella sat opposite him.
Professional.
Calm.
Unreachable.
Victor presented the evidence against Bianca.
Twenty-seven shell companies.
Fake consulting agreements.
Bribed executives.
Stolen passwords.
Manipulated photographs.
A coordinated attempt to destabilize Morty Capital and purchase distressed assets through third parties.
Then came the ugliest discovery.
Bianca had bribed Isabella’s former obstetric nurse for private medical information.
Adriano’s hands curled into fists.
Isabella did not react.
Victor continued.
“Ms. Ricks obtained Mrs. Morty’s pregnancy complications and used them to predict when she would be physically vulnerable.”
Adriano looked at Isabella.
“What complications?”
She stared at Victor.
“Don’t.”
Adriano’s chair scraped backward.
“What complications?”
Silence.
Finally Isabella spoke.
“I had bleeding at nineteen weeks.”
His face emptied.
“The baby?”
“She’s fine.”
“You never told me.”
“You were in Monaco.”
“With Bianca,” he whispered.
Isabella looked away.
Memory struck him.
Monaco.
Bianca had called crying, claiming someone was stalking her.
Adriano had flown there personally.
Isabella had texted him that evening.
Are you awake?
He had replied four hours later.
Busy. Everything okay?
Her answer had been:
Yes. Sleep well.
Adriano could barely breathe.
“You were in the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“No. Your mother came.”
He stood there before twenty executives with tears burning behind his eyes.
“Why didn’t you ask me to come home?”
Isabella finally looked directly at him.
“I did.”
He froze.
“One time.”
She swallowed.
“You said you were busy.”
Nobody in the room moved.
Adriano remembered the message.
Are you awake?
Three harmless words.
He had not understood that they meant:
I am terrified.
Our daughter may die.
Please choose us.
And he had chosen Bianca without even realizing a choice was being offered.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Isabella’s expression did not change.
“That doesn’t belong in this meeting.”
It was not cruel.
That made it worse.
She had stopped expecting anything from him.
The meeting continued.
At the end, Isabella invoked the Romano voting agreement.
She could have removed Adriano.
Instead, she proposed temporary joint oversight while investigators secured the company.
One director stared at her.
“After what Mr. Morty did publicly, why leave him any authority?”
Isabella answered without looking at her husband.
“Because revenge is not governance.”
Adriano lowered his eyes.
Even after he shattered her heart, she refused to shatter his life merely because she could.
When the meeting ended, he followed her into the corridor.
“Isabella.”
She stopped.
He had rehearsed a hundred speeches.
None survived seeing her.
“I know about the car.”
Her face changed.
“You weren’t supposed to.”
“I know you almost died.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“No.” His voice cracked. “Apparently I’ve been living inside things you sacrificed for me my entire adult life.”
She looked tired.
“That was my choice.”
“And what I did was mine.”
“Yes.”
No excuse.
No absolution.
Just truth.
Adriano nodded.
“I won’t ask you to forgive me.”
“Good.”
She walked toward the elevator.
Then suddenly stopped.
Her hand flew to her stomach.
Adriano saw the color leave her face.
“Isabella?”
She inhaled sharply.
A dark stain appeared beneath the ivory coat around her knees.
For one terrible second, neither moved.
May you like
Then Isabella whispered:
“Something’s wrong with the baby.”
