Chapter 6

"Isabella!" Dante immediately knelt by her side.

"Help... me..." I held out a shaking hand, trying to get Dante to give me the injection.

But he didn't even glance at me. He snatched the EpiPen from my hand. "Isabella, hang on!" He jabbed the needle into her arm without a second thought.

"Marco, quick! Get Isabella to the hospital!" Dante scooped her up. "Call an ambulance!"

"What about Rose?" Marco hesitated, glancing at me. I was slumped in my chair, my lips turning blue.

Dante didn't even answer him. He just ran out.

After a moment's pause, Marco chased after them.

They were gone.

I was alone in the room, my consciousness fading. I could feel my heart slowing, my breathing getting shallower.

"Miss? Miss!" It was a waiter's voice. "Oh my god, call an ambulance!"

I slipped into darkness.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed with an oxygen tube in my nose.

"You're awake," the doctor said, walking over. "You're very lucky. Ten more minutes and it could have been fatal."

I managed a weak, bitter smile. It wasn't luck. Dante had stolen my medicine. It was attempted murder. And Isabella wasn't allergic. She just wanted me to know that between the two of us, Dante would always choose her.

"Rose." Dante's voice came from the doorway. "You're awake."

I turned my head. He stood there, impeccably dressed. Maybe my near-death state had stirred a shred of guilt in him, because his face held a hint of remorse.

He walked to my bedside but wouldn't meet my eyes. "I'm glad you're okay... about tonight, you have to understand. Isabella's family, the Rossis, are important partners. For the sake of the family, she couldn't be put at risk."

"Is that so?" I stared at him, searching for any sign of a lie. "Or is it because you have... special feelings for her?"

His face stiffened, then he seemed to remember his mission. His tone turned dismissive and mocking. "I knew you were still jealous. Isabella and I grew up together. If I wanted her, why would I be with you?"

I knew what he was thinking. He was reminding himself of his goal—to punish the gold-digging woman who’d angered his precious Isabella.

For a second, I wanted to tell him everything—the bullying, the lies. But we had been together for three years. If he had ever truly known me, ever truly cared for me, he wouldn't have conspired with his own brother to deceive me.

So I closed my eyes and said nothing.

Dante paused. "Get some rest. The wedding is in two days."

He still had no idea that the bride wouldn't be showing up.

After he left, my phone buzzed. A video from Isabella.

What I saw made my hands tremble, a sharp pain twisting in my gut.

The video showed a man standing over my grandmother's hospital bed. He was holding up photos—pictures of me being bullied, the humiliating moments I’d tried so hard to bury. One by one, he shoved them in her face.

I recognized the crest on his jacket. He was one of Isabella’s men.

My grandmother, who had always loved me so fiercely… tears were streaming down her face. She was shaking so badly from the grief, she couldn't even form words.

Already so frail, the color drained from her face. The heart monitor beside her started screaming, a flat, piercing wail. And the man? He just turned and walked away, completely unfazed.

Then came a text from Isabella.

“Such a shame, Rose. I was just trying to do a good thing, telling your grandma what you went through. Who knew she'd get so worked up and just… die?”

“Oh, and by the way, this was your grandmother’s ring, wasn’t it? It looks great on me. The wedding’s in two days. I’m planning on wearing it. As your bridesmaid, you won’t mind, will you?”

The message came with a picture: Isabella, smiling for the camera, wearing my grandmother's ring on her finger.

It was one of the few things I had left of her. I’d been looking for it for weeks. And that thief, Isabella, had it the whole time.

No. She wasn't just a thief. She was a murderer.