Chapter 7

Oliver was missing?

Bella froze. The knife had already nicked her neck, a sharp sting burning her skin.

"Get a grip. I don't know where he is!"

Ada shook like a madwoman, knife trembling in her hand. "Impossible! You're the only one who hates Ollie. You even had vans here moving your stuff today. If it wasn't you, then who?"

Her eyes were bloodshot, voice cracked from crying, looking every bit the desperate mom of a lost child. "Mrs. Rocca, please, give me back Ollie. He's all I have left."

Then, out of nowhere, she dropped the knife and clutched Bella's wrist. "Ollie is my life..."

Bella tore free, her chest twisting at the words but only feeling mocked.

She couldn't hold back. "Give him back to you? He's an adopted kid from an orphanage—what does he even have to do with you? Why should I hand him over?"

"He's my—" Ada blurted, then cut herself off, breaking into sobs.

This time, Bella didn't let go. Her eyes narrowed, sharp as glass. "He's your what? Say it."

"Enough!" Steven's voice snapped across the room. "Bella, stop being so harsh."

Bella just stared at him, stunned.

They'd grown up together, and he'd never—ever—talked to her like that. Ada had a knife at her throat and he said nothing. But the first time he actually raised his voice? To defend his side chick and her kid.

One word hit her like a punch: disappointment. She was so done.

Steven's face shifted when he saw it, and he scrambled to backpedal. "Bella, that's not what I meant. Ollie was adopted into the family, but she's always cared for him. She just... lost it—"

"Save it." Bella's tone was pure ice. "Steven Rocca, for the last time—I don't know where your son is. If he's missing, call the cops."

Her voice was too calm, too cold. It crushed him, and he didn't even catch that she'd just called Oliver his son.

Just then, Steven's assistant, Bobby, burst in. "Mr. Rocca, we found the kid. He was in a van headed out of Valmora. Luckily, it hadn't gotten far—Oliver's already on his way back."

Everyone exhaled in relief—everyone except Bella. Her stomach dropped. She was the one who'd called for vans today to move her stuff. Of course, all eyes would swing her way.

Miranda lounged on the couch and let out a sharp snort. "You can't have kids yourself, and when I give you one, you're still not satisfied. You just want this family line dead."

The words cut deep, ripping open scars Bella thought had already bled enough.

Her eyes flicked to Steven, desperate—but he wasn't looking at her. He was staring at Ada, face unreadable.

Her chest clenched tight, no air left to breathe. A bitter laugh slipped out. "You're right. I should've never risked my life for Steven. I should've let him die."

Her voice was steady, but her heart cracked wide open.

Steven's head snapped up, eyes locking on her. The thin line of blood at her throat burned into his sight. "Bella, don't say that."

He lunged forward, reaching for her hand. She yanked back, cold.

It wasn't anger that gutted her—it was the silence of a heart already frozen. And knowing these same hands had just held Ada made her sick.

Bella looked away, lowered her head, and pulled out her phone. She texted Heidi again, asking how close she was. Still no reply.

The mansion fell into heavy silence, broken only by Ada's sobs.

Not long after, Oliver was brought back.

The second he spotted Bella, he ducked behind Steven and pointed straight at her. "Daddy, it was her! She tried to throw me away. It was her!"

Miranda shot up, face hard. "Bella, what else is there to say? Ollie's just a kid—would he lie?"

Steven's gaze flickered. Their eyes met, and Bella saw it clear as day.

He doubted her.