บททั้งหมดของ IF LOOKS COULD KILL: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 6

Third person POV Isabella Rossi marked her twenty-eighth birthday with a decision as sharp and unforgiving as a knife.The air in her private study, usually thick with the scent of expensive leather and aged wine, crackled with tension."Aldrin," she said, her voice a low, steady hum that belied the storm raging within, "draft me a divorce agreement. I want to cut all ties with Marco."Aldrin De Luca, her consigliere, her lawyer and a man who had served the Rossi family with unwavering loyalty for years, regarded her with a steady gaze, his brown eyes flickering over her pale features."Isabella," he said, his voice gravelly with concern, "are you sure about this? I will, of course, do as you command. But Marco...Marco Vitale loves you. He won't let you go that easily."A flicker of doubt, cold and unwelcome, pierced Isabella's resolve.‘Does he really?’The question echoed in the confines of her mind.She didn't know.Once, when she had been younger and more naive, she had believed

Third person povBy the time Isabella emerged from the restroom, she had rebuilt her mask.The bold crimson of her lipstick couldn't quite hide the puffiness around her eyes, but it would have to do. When she returned to the ballroom, Marco and Amelia were waiting, their faces carefully composed."Isabella, àmore, where did you disappear to? I was beginning to worry," Marco said, smoothly stepping forward. He paused, his eyes flicking over her face, registering the too-bright makeup and the redness of her eyes. “Isa?" He murmured sweetly, eyes earnest.The way he could change from being cold and cruel to this….. made bile rise in her throat.She shook her head, giving him a small smile, “I'm fine." Isabella finally said, her voice flat. But the man didn't seem to believe her.Carefully, he reached for her hand but, skin crawling, Isabella took a step back, dodging the appendage."I'm fine Marco, I told you. Just needed a moment,”"Really? You're okay?" He looked at his empty hand,

Third person POV Isabella slammed the door behind her, her legs trembling from the run it took to get her here. Stumbling towards the sink, she gripped the cool porcelain edge, her knuckles white against the sickly-sweet pink of the countertop.A wave of bile surged up her throat, burning like acid. She leaned over the basin, gagging, her stomach clenching in violent spasms. The contents of the drink – the rich, almost smokey taste of the drugged wine – now erupted in a torrent of half-digested food and bitter fluids.The stench filled the small space, a revolting mix of alcohol, perfume, and stomach acid.Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the sweat that beaded on her forehead.Strands of hair, loosened from her tight ponytail, clung to her damp skin. Each heave wracked her body, leaving her breathless and trembling.She tasted the acrid burn of vomit in the back of her throat, a physical manifestation of the betrayal and disgust that consumed her.She continued to retch