Never to Meet Again

I walked over to the bed, picked up my phone, and called my private doctor.

Since he owed me a favor, half an hour later, he arrived at my room carrying his medical bag.

After a thorough examination, he said, "Mrs. Corleone, your fall caused fetal distress. Combined with the emotional shock you've been under, that's what's causing the abdominal pain."

He took some medication from his bag and handed it to me.

"You must be careful not to get hurt again."

I took it and set it on the table.

"For now, don't tell anyone that I'm pregnant."

The doctor nodded and left with his medical bag.

During the two days I was confined to my room, Corleone never showed up once.

Using my phone, I contacted my assistant and instructed him to sell my clothes, handbags, and jewelry under my name as quickly as possible.

Some of the staff reported my actions to Corleone, but he simply assumed I was throwing a tantrum.

On the third night, the eve of our wedding anniversary, Corleone finally returned.

Holding a bowl of parfait, he came to coax me as he always did.

When he saw my swollen eyes, a trace of concern flashed across his face.

"As long as you're obedient, you'll always be the lady of this family. You'll always be Mrs. Corleone."

I looked at him and mocked him coldly.

"I'm just a tool to you, aren't I?"

Assuming I was about to speak badly about Lilia again, Corleone immediately cut me off.

"You're being jealous again.

"You pushed Lilia, so I had no choice but to stay at the hospital these past few days to take care of her and make up for what you did."

Just then, his phone rang.

He didn't even try to hide it from me when he answered.

"What? Your stomach is bothering you again? I'll be right there."

With that, he set down the parfait and left.

I stared at the closed door. Not a single tear had fallen.

My phone vibrated.

It was a message from my assistant.

[Miss Isabella, everything has been sold.]

The time to leave had come.

Late that night, I removed the wedding ring from my finger, the symbol of a five-year joke, and left it inside the safe together with a signed divorce agreement.

Then I uploaded a scheduled video to Instagram and tossed my phone into a corner of the room.

I sent the maid at my door away, telling her I wanted her to grind me a cup of coffee before picking up the lighter from the table.

With that, I set fire to the curtains and bedsheets.

The flames spread rapidly.

Calmly, I watched everything that belonged to "Mrs. Corleone" burn in the fire.

I changed into a housekeeper's uniform and put on a cap. While everyone in the estate was busy putting out the fire, I slipped out through the back door.

At that very moment, Corleone was at the hospital, taking care of Lilia.

He was peeling an apple when a sudden pain twisted through his chest.

The fruit knife slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor.

Irritated, he yanked at his tie.

His underboss rushed into the hospital room, panic written all over his face.

"Don Corleone, something terrible has happened… Mrs. Corleone's room caught fire..."

"And Mrs. Corleone..."

Corleone's face instantly turned pale. For the first time, he felt a fear unlike anything he had ever experienced.

"Corleone, I need you here. Don't go. Just send your men to look for Isabella."

Lilia grabbed him tightly.

For once, he shook off her hand without the slightest hesitation, completely ignoring her startled cry.

Then he rushed out of the hospital room like a madman and sped back to the estate.