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“You’re not worried Arabella will find out?”

“She won’t,” Lorenzo paused before he spoke. “Arabella is a smart woman, but she loves me too much. Love makes you blind. She won't ever question if my words are a lie.”

Laughter echoed from the room. The glass of scotch in my hand slipped, the thick rug muffling the sound of it shattering.

I stumbled back, my legs giving out as if the bones had been ripped from them.

Four years of marriage.

I thought I’d found a protector. A man who would die for me.

It was all a lie.

I touched my small, rounding belly, my mind racing.

Lorenzo’s kiss last month, thrilled we were finally having a child.

Isabella’s strange smile outside the clinic.

His frequent “family meetings.”

The flicker of something in his eyes yesterday as he touched my stomach.

The child I was carrying… it wasn’t even mine.

I collapsed onto the bed. I didn’t have the strength to turn on a light. A deep, uncontrollable cold shook my body. My stomach churned and my head pounded. Tears slid down my face, but I didn’t have the energy to wipe them away.

Footsteps in the hall.

Lorenzo was back.

I scrambled off the bed, plunging the room into darkness, and huddled in the shadows by the fireplace.

“Arabella?”

The door opened. His voice was full of concern. “Why are the lights off?”

Such a good actor.

“Just tired,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

He walked over quickly and knelt beside me. “Are you feeling sick? Should I call the doctor?”

His hand stroked my hair, a touch so gentle it made me want to scream.

“I’m fine.”

“You need to take care of yourself,” he murmured, his voice low and soft. “For our child. For the Falcone heir.”

I closed my eyes, remembering that night four years ago.

My fiancé and Isabella, tangled together in the lounge.

All of Chicago’s underworld laughing at me.

Just when I thought my life was over, Lorenzo appeared.

He proposed to me in public, backing me with the Falcone name.

“I’ll protect you,” he’d said. “No one will ever hurt you again.”

And I believed him.

I was a fool to believe him.

I wasn’t just his wife. I was his asset.

That three-million-dollar Monet? A forgery I spotted.

The Renaissance antiques? I helped him dodge an FBI sting.

The “special cargo” at the docks? My eye for detail saved him from a rival’s ambush.

And now I knew. All that warmth was just part of the act.

“Arabella?” Lorenzo sensed my silence. “What are you thinking about?”

I opened my eyes and looked at him.

The firelight danced across his face. The face I once loved, now a stranger’s mask.

“Nothing,” I forced a smile. “Just… the past.”

“The past?”

“The night you proposed to me.”

His eyes softened instantly. “Best decision I ever made.”

Best decision, was it? Because you married a fool from a weak family who trusts you completely?

He leaned in and kissed my forehead. “I love you, Arabella. Always.”

Always…

If I hadn’t found out the truth, I might have lived in this dream forever.

You want to act? Fine. Two can play at that game.

I blinked slowly, a pale smile on my lips.

“I’m alright, Lorenzo. Just a little tired.”

My voice was soft, sleepy. Flawless.

He let out a breath, relieved. He kissed my forehead again. “Good girl. Get some rest.”

Fine. I'll play your good little wife for three more days.

On the third day, I’ll be the one to bring down the curtain.