Arabella's POV
“Revenge?”
The word left my lips so quietly it was almost a whisper, yet it seemed to echo through the hospital room with startling force. My heartbeat quickened as I stared at Matteo White, trying to decide whether I had misheard him or whether he truly meant what he had just said.
Matteo lowered himself into the chair beside my bed with unhurried grace. There was nothing careless about the way he moved; every gesture felt deliberate, every shift of posture controlled. He carried himself like a man accustomed to power, but unlike Nathaniel’s polished arrogance, Matteo’s presence felt colder, more dangerous. His steel-gray eyes held a restraint that somehow felt more threatening than open rage.
“Yes,” he said at last, his voice calm and unwavering. “Revenge.”
He held my gaze as though he expected me to look away first.
“Think carefully, Arabella,” he continued. “The two people who should have loved you above everyone else betrayed you in the cruelest way possible. They took your trust, your devotion, and your children as if none of it had value. If you allow them to walk away untouched, they will continue believing they can destroy lives without consequence.”
Something unsettling stirred inside me as I listened.
It was not comfort.
It was not relief.
It was something far more dangerous.
Purpose.
For the first time since learning the truth about Noah, I felt something other than grief and helplessness. The feeling rose slowly, sharp and intoxicating, from the ashes of everything Nathaniel had destroyed.
Ignoring the dull ache still radiating through my body, I shifted upright against the pillows and studied Matteo more carefully.
“So this is about Genevieve too,” I said. “You want revenge against her.”
A faint smile touched his mouth, though it brought no warmth to his expression.
“I gave her everything a husband could give,” he said. “My loyalty, my protection, my name, and every advantage that came with being Mrs. White. In return, she humiliated me.”
His eyes darkened.
“So yes, I want revenge.”
Even before he spoke again, I knew what he was thinking.
She is your sister.
The thought no longer had any power over me.
I cut him off before he could say it.
“Why come to me?” I asked. “Why involve me at all?”
That faint smile returned, colder than before.
“Because revenge rarely satisfies when pursued alone,” he said. “And because whether you realize it or not, Arabella, you are essential to what happens next.”
I folded my arms and regarded him warily.
“What exactly do you want from me?”
Matteo did not blink.
Then he answered with devastating simplicity.
“I want you to marry me.”
The words hit me like ice water.
For several seconds, I could only stare at him, convinced I had misunderstood.
But his expression remained perfectly serious.
There was no trace of humor.
No hesitation.
He meant every word.
Two days later, after the doctors finally cleared me for discharge, I returned to the Ashford estate beneath a pale golden sky.
During those two days, Nathaniel had not come once.
There had been no calls.
No messages.
No inquiries.
Nothing.
The truth settled heavily inside me.
I had spent two days in a hospital after losing our child, and my husband had not even noticed my absence.
As the car rolled toward the estate, Matteo’s proposal replayed in my mind.
I had rejected him immediately.
The idea of binding myself to another loveless marriage felt unbearable. I had already sacrificed seven years of my life to a relationship built on deception. I could not imagine willingly stepping into another prison.
Still, before leaving, Matteo had pressed a small black card into my hand.
A private number.
“In case you change your mind,” he had said.
I had told myself I would never use it.
At least, that was what I believed.
When I arrived home, my steps slowed.
A sleek black Rolls-Royce bearing the White crest stood near the entrance.
Genevieve.
Of course.
That explained Nathaniel’s silence.
The realization should have made me angry, but what I felt instead was something colder.
Understanding.
I pushed open the front doors and stepped inside.
The house was unusually quiet.
Then I heard it.
A sound.
Soft.
Breathless.
Intimate.
I froze.
My body moved before my thoughts could catch up, carrying me toward the source of the sound until I reached the hallway leading to our bedroom.
The door stood slightly open.
What I saw beyond it rooted me to the floor.
Nathaniel had Genevieve pinned against the bed, his body bent over hers while his hands moved across her waist and bare back with shameless familiarity. Their clothes lay scattered across the floor, discarded without care.
I had known.
I had read the messages.
I had heard the truth.
Still, nothing had prepared me for the brutality of seeing them together.
There is a particular cruelty in watching betrayal take physical form.
Tears blurred my vision.
Neither of them noticed me.
“My love,” Nathaniel murmured against her skin, his voice heavy with desire, “I missed you.”
Genevieve laughed softly and traced her fingers across his chest.
“Did you?” she asked teasingly. “Don’t tell me my sister still fails to satisfy you.”
Nathaniel gave a low laugh.
“She never did,” he said without hesitation. “Not the way you do.”
The words cut deeper than anything before them.
Every breath hurt.
Every heartbeat felt wrong.
Nathaniel lifted her chin and kissed her again.
“When I take full control of Ashford Holdings,” he said, “I’ll give you everything. No one will stand between us.”
For several unbearable seconds, I could not move.
Then something inside me changed.
The last fragile piece of me that still mourned the marriage Nathaniel and I once had quietly died.
I took out my phone.
Without making a sound, I recorded everything.
A few seconds.
Then more.
Enough.
I lowered the phone.
Without a word, I turned away.
In the entrance hall, Nathaniel’s car keys rested on the side table.
I picked them up.
Minutes later, sitting alone inside the car, I stared at the video on my screen.
My hand tightened around Matteo’s card.
For a long time, I simply stared at the number.
Then I dialed.
He answered on the first ring.
I sent him the recording.
Then I spoke only four words.
“I accept your offer.”
His response came immediately, as though he had expected this moment all along.
“Good,” Matteo said, his voice calm and certain. “I’ll take care of the rest.”
I leaned back against the leather seat and let out a hollow laugh.
It felt as though I had just handed my soul to the devil.
Strangely, the thought did not frighten me.
I no longer feared monsters.
I had already loved one.
Following the address Matteo had given me, I drove straight to a private legal office that specialized in high-profile divorces and corporate settlements.
Inside, a receptionist greeted me with practiced professionalism.
“How may we assist you, ma’am?”
“I’m here to see Samuel Reed,” I said. “Matteo White sent me.”
Recognition flashed across her face, followed by immediate deference.
“Of course. Mr. Reed is expecting you.”
A few minutes later, I was escorted into a private office lined with legal books and confidential case files.
A silver-haired man rose from behind an oak desk and extended his hand.
“Mrs. Ashford,” he said politely. “Please, have a seat.”
I sat across from him without hesitation.
For a moment, he studied me, perhaps expecting uncertainty.
He found none.
When I finally spoke, my voice was calm, steady, and entirely free of doubt.
“I want to file for divorce from Nathaniel Ashford,” I said.
I held his gaze.
“And I want to make sure he loses everything.”
