Putih Abu-abu

Chapter 1

Isabella's POV

The diamond necklace felt like a cold, glittering noose around my throat.

I stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the Rossi mansion, staring at the woman I had become. My silk gown, a deep emerald green, hugged a body that hadn’t slept properly in months. Every line on that dress, every stitch in my reputation, and every zero in the Rossi bank account had been put there by me.

I was Isabella Rossi. To the world, I was the lucky commoner who had captured the heart of Antonio Rossi, the "King of Business." To the Rossi family, I was a tool. A ghostwriter for a man who didn't know how to close a deal without my whispers in his ear.

"You’re still not ready? Typical. Always keeping him waiting. I still marvel how he is still stuck up with your good for nothing self." That voice that I recognized so much retorted

The door to my dressing room didn't just open; it was invaded. Sophia Rossi, my mother-in-law, stepped in. Her eyes swept over me with a look of pure, undiluted venom.

She wore a Chanel suit that cost more than my father’s annual pension, and she wore her hatred even better.

"The gala starts in thirty minutes, Isabella," she sneered, her voice like a serrated knife. "Antonio is downstairs, looking like a god. And you? You look like a weary secretary who’s had a long day at the office."

"I look like the woman who spent eighteen hours today fixing the offshore accounts for the merger tonight, Sophia," I replied, my voice steady despite the tremor in my heart. "If I look tired, it’s because I’m doing the work Antonio won't."

Slap.

A loud one that would probably leave a handprint on my cheek.

The sound echoed in the marble room. My head snapped to the side, my cheek burning.

It wasn't the first and won't be the last.

"Don't you dare speak his name with that tone," Sophia hissed, leaning in so close I could smell her expensive perfume and the rot of her soul.

"You are a black sheep. A stain on this family's lineage. You think because you have a sharp mind for numbers, you are one of us? You are a servant who sleeps in the master’s bed. Nothing more."

I didn't cry. I had learned years ago that tears were just blood for the Rossi sharks.

"Isabella? Mother? We’re leaving."

Antonio stood in the doorway. He looked magnificent in his bespoke tuxedo. His jaw was sharp enough to cut glass, his eyes a piercing, cold blue. He saw my reddened cheek. He saw his mother’s heaving chest.

"Antonio," I whispered, reaching out for him. "Your mother…"

"Isabella, stop being so dramatic," he interrupted, not even looking me in the eye. He adjusted his platinum cufflinks, the ones I had bought him to celebrate his first billion.

"We don't have time for your theatrics. The deal tonight is everything. If you can’t handle a little family friction, stay home. But the papers need to be signed, and you need to be there to ensure the board doesn't get cold feet."

"I am the one who convinced the board, Antonio," I reminded him, my heart breaking a little more. "I built this. I built you." I said hoping that will reignite his feelings for me.

I really miss the man he was before.

He finally looked at me, but there was no love in those eyes. Only a chilling, joyful light I didn't recognize. "Then come and watch me take what belongs to me."

The Grand Ballroom of the Plaza was a sea of gold and silk. This was supposed to be my night. The Apex Merger was my masterpiece, a complex web of acquisitions that would make Antonio the undisputed ruler of the global market.

But as we walked in, Antonio’s hand wasn't on the small of my back. He was three steps ahead of me, greeting senators and CEOs as if I were a trailing shadow.

I followed him like a lost puppy continuously straining to see the direction he was heading.

"Isabella! Over here!"

It was Beatrice, Antonio’s step-sister. She pulled me toward a corner, her eyes gleaming with a sick pleasure. She held a phone in her hand.

"Have you spoken to your daughter today, Isabella? Little Mia was so upset. She told me she found the secret letters you’ve been writing to your lawyers about taking her away from the Rossi family."

"What? I never wrote any letters! Beatrice, what did you tell her?" Panic surged through me. My daughter was my only light in this house of horrors.

"I told her the truth," Beatrice whispered, leaning in. "That her mother is a greedy woman who wants to use her as a bargaining chip in a divorce. She hates you, Isabella. She told me she never wants to see you again."

My head spun. "You’re lying. She’s only seven, she wouldn't…"

"The lights!" someone shouted.

The room went dark, a single spotlight hitting the stage. Antonio walked up, the personification of power. The applause was deafening.

"Tonight," Antonio’s voice boomed through the speakers, "is not just a celebration of a merger. It is a celebration of the woman who truly stood by me. The woman who whispered the right moves when the world was against me."

I felt a surge of hope. Was he finally going to acknowledge me? Was he going to tell them that I was his partner? I took a step toward the stage, a smile forming on my lips.

Oh my God! I didn't even prepare a speech, what if he asks me to say something?

In anxiety and bubbling excitement, I smoothed my skirt trying to practice what I will say.

"Please welcome," Antonio said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone, "the real power behind the throne. My partner, my heart... Clara Vance."

The world stopped.

Clara, his secretary, walked onto the stage in a dress that was almost identical to mine, but whiter. Purer.

Antonio reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture he used to do for me. He kissed her hand in front of five hundred people.

The room erupted in whispers. Where is his wife? Isn't that his secretary?

I moved a step forward, my vision blurred. I was going to scream. I was going to tear that stage down.

What the heck just happened?

No one dares to take a place that I have labored and sweated for without having to face me.

"Antonio!" I cried out, but my voice was drowned out by the sound of heavy boots.

The grand doors of the ballroom burst open.

"Isabella Rossi?" a booming voice shouted.

Six police officers marched through the crowd, their faces grim. The music died. The guests parted like the Red Sea.

"You are under arrest for grand larceny, racketeering, and the embezzlement of four hundred million dollars from the Rossi Group," the lead officer stated, reaching for his belt.

"What? No! That’s impossible!" I looked at the stage.

Antonio wasn't shocked. He wasn't rushing down to protect me. He was standing there, his arm wrapped firmly around Clara’s waist, watching me with a look of utter, terrifying joy.

He didn't just let them take me. He had called them.

"Antonio, tell them!" I screamed as the handcuffs snapped shut, the cold metal biting into the skin where my diamond bracelets had been.

"I did nothing! I built this for you!"

"I’m sorry, Isabella," Antonio said, his voice loud enough for every reporter in the room to hear. "I tried to hide your greed for as long as I could. But I cannot let my company suffer for your crimes."

What was this man saying?

I built everything and now I was being arrested for it?

As they dragged me through the ballroom, past the sneering face of my mother-in-law and the laughing eyes of Beatrice, I realized the truth.

The King I had built hadn't just found a new Queen.

He had built a gallows for the woman who gave him the crown.