Chapter 160 I wasn't watching

Chapter 160 I wasn't watching
The bedroom was a whirlwind of metallic teal silk. I leaned against the doorframe, watching Isabella spin, the fabric catching the afternoon light and shimmering like the surface of the Thames. She looked radiant, her movements light, almost ethereal.

I couldn't wrap my head around it. Four days ago, she was a broken mess in the back of my SUV, her world leveled by the filth Nathan and Valentina had spat out. Today, she was humming a pop song and debating necklines.

"Too much?" she asked, stopping mid-spin. She frowned at her reflection, smoothing the silk over her stomach. "I don't like this one. It makes me look fat."

"It makes you look like a goddess," I countered, pulling out my phone.

Before she could protest, I snapped a photo. She was mid-laugh, her hair caught in the motion, her eyes finally bright again.

"Hey!" She pointed a finger at me, a playful scowl on her face. "You're under arrest. Taking unauthorized photos of a pregnant woman in a dress she hates is a federal offense."

I burst out laughing, the sound feeling foreign but good in my chest. "Well, then. Lock me up. I'm prepared to stay in prison forever if this is the evidence."

"Why?" she asked, walking over and snatching the phone from my hand.

"Go to the gallery," I prompted grinning like a proud rabbit.

She swiped through the screen, her expressions changing faster than the photos. She smiled, she gasped, she laughed, and then she stopped, her brow furrowing into a deep frown.

"Mateo! I was sleeping with my mouth open in this one!" she yelled, turning the screen toward me.

I shrugged, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Babe, you look cute. See that small trail of saliva? It's the definition of perfection. Artistic, even."

She lunged to hit me with a silk pillow, but I was faster. I scooped her up, her legs wrapping around my waist as she laughed. I grabbed my phone back, but as I did, she noticed the scrolling bar at the bottom of the screen.

"Wait... are there over twenty pictures of me in here?"

I gave her my proudest smile, the one I usually reserved for closing billion-dollar deals. "It's eighty-nine. I couldn't pick a favorite, so I kept them all. But honestly? I think the total count on my phone is over two hundred now. Maybe three."

Isabella just stared at me, her eyes softening. She leaned in, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to my lips. "You're a weirdo. But it's beautiful."

The laughter died down, replaced by a heavy, awkward silence. I had to know. I had to ask. "Isabella... are you okay? Truly?"

She stepped out of my arms, slowly unzipping the teal dress and letting it pool at her feet. Standing there in just her underwear, she looked so fragile yet so incredibly strong.

"My mother almost killed me as a baby. My dad has hated me since the second I drew breath," she said, her voice eerily calm. She let out a long sigh. "I tried to feel sad again this morning, Mateo. I really did. But I couldn't. Maybe I just needed closure. Now that the monsters have names and faces, they aren't as scary anymore."

I nodded, though my heart ached for the girl who had to learn to be that numb.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I silenced it, clearing my throat. "Well... your dad is back in New York. I had to make him sign some things before he left. You don't have to worry about him anymore."

Isabella gave me a long, probing stare. She didn't say a word, just watched me until I felt the sweat start to bead on my neck. I broke first.

"Fine," I rapped out, the words coming out in a rush. "You were born in London, which means you have a British birth certificate somewhere. The one you have in New York is a fake, your dad said so. If Nathan gets bitter enough, he can rat you out to immigration and you'll become a legal ghost. I paid him off and had him sign a document that I can use to blackmail him into silence. And... I'm going to see your grandparents today for the original records."

Isabella stood perfectly still. The only word that left her mouth was a soft, "Woah."

I rushed to her, pulling her into my arms, terrified I'd pushed her too far. "I won't let anything happen to you. I'll talk to them. If they refuse, I'll-I'll kill someone." I caught myself and forced a smile. "I won't kill anyone. Probably."

Isabella sat on the edge of the bed, her gaze distant.

"My dad says you'll be a British citizen if I can get the hospital reports and the original copy," I explained frantically. "We apply for a visa first, and then the passport. Please, Isabella... no stress. I can handle this. I can-"

She cut me short with a soft peck on the lips. She moved closer, a lazy, defiant grin spreading across her face.

"I'm going with you," she said. "I kind of have a bucket list of things to say to them anyway. The Gala is in three days, we're waiting on the DNA results, I haven't told Lucian I'm his sister, and I'm technically a ghost. Why not add a visit to the grandparents to the list?"

I sighed, defeated. My phone rang again. This time I answered.

"He took the money and signed?" I asked Jake on the other end. "You got it on camera too? Good. Come back."

I hung up and looked at Isabella. She was already beaming. "See? Nathan already signed. One monster down."

Hearing her call him Nathan instead of Dad told me everything I needed to know. She was done with him.

She turned and started digging through the closet again, her voice turning high and chirpy. "Have you thought about names? For the baby? I'm thinking Mateo Jr. or Sofia."

I thought for a moment, a warmth spreading through my chest. "That's basically just me or my mother's name. A bit narcissistic, don't you think?"

Isabella grinned, swaying her hips as she walked toward the bathroom, knowing damn well I was watching. "I know," she tossed over her shoulder.

I tensed up, my eyes lingering a second too long before I snapped them away. "I wasn't watching."

"I know," she replied, her voice full of mischief as she stepped back into the room, her eyes locked onto mine. "Now get dressed, Rossi. We have a family legacy to dismantle."



The Cortez estate sat like a tomb in the middle of the lush English countryside. It was beautiful, expensive, and completely hollow—just like the people inside it. As we walked up the stone steps, I felt Isabella’s hand tighten in mine. She wasn't shaking, but her skin was cold.

"Remember," I whispered, leaning close to her ear. "They aren't the ones with the power here. We are."

The drawing room was a museum of suppressed scandals. Isabella’s grandparents, Arthur and Eleanor Cortez, sat like statues. They looked at Isabella not with love, but with the weary annoyance of someone looking at a bill they forgot to pay twenty-five years ago.

"The Rossi heir," Arthur said, his voice dry as parchment. "I suppose we should have expected you to come sniffing around eventually. It was only a matter of time before Valentina’s mess leaked into your world."

Well, it was not that much of a surprise they still keep tab of their daughter after they kicked her out. After all, rumors say Arthur had illegitimate children around.

"I'm not here for a history lesson, Arthur," I said, stepping into the center of the room. I didn't sit. I stayed standing, looming over them until

Eleanor shifted uncomfortably. "I want the 1999 hospital records and the original birth certificate. Now."

Eleanor gave a sharp, brittle laugh. "And why would we hand over the only proof of our daughter's greatest shame? We’ve spent two decades pretending that alleyway birth never happened."

I leaned down, resting my knuckles on their antique mahogany table.

"Because I can destroy you. I can pull every investment, freeze every asset, and turn your 'spotless' reputation into a cautionary tale in every boardroom in London. You're afraid Valentina will drag your name through the mud? I’ll do it for her. And I’ll be much more thorough."

The silence that followed was heavy. I saw the flash of genuine fear in Arthur’s eyes. He knew the Rossi family didn't make empty threats. We didn't just win; we erased.

"There is no need for such... theatrics," Arthur said, his voice regaining a bit of its haughty edge. He stood up, walking to a safe hidden behind a tapestry. He pulled out a thick, ivory envelope and tossed it onto the table. 

"Take it. We were going to burn it anyway. Consider it a wedding gift. It’s a messy bit of business, and we’d prefer it left our house forever."

Isabella reached out, her fingers brushing the heavy paper. Inside was the Original British Birth Certificate. No forgeries. No New York lies.

"Valentina DNA test results are coming in two days," I said, my voice cold. "That, combined with this certificate, means Isabella is a citizen by birth. She doesn't need to 'become' British. She already is. All I have to do is file this with the Home Office and she’ll have a passport by the end of the week."

"Then do it," Eleanor snapped, though her hand trembled as she reached for her tea. "And tell that daughter of ours to stay in her hotel. We don't want her, and we certainly don't want the ghost she left behind."

Isabella stood up then. She looked at the woman who was her grandmother—a woman who had known about her existence for twenty-five years and never once reached out.

"Don't worry," Isabella said, her voice surprisingly steady. "The ghost is gone. I'm a Rossi now. And you'll never have to see me again."

As we walked back to the car, the weight of the envelope in my hand felt like a weapon. We had it. The proof. The DNA would confirm the bloodline, and the certificate would provide the legal shield.

"You okay?" I asked as I started the engine.

Isabella looked at the birth certificate, her thumb tracing the official seal. "I have a name, Mateo. A real one. For the first time in my life, I don't feel like I'm hiding."

"You aren't," I said, pulling her into a kiss that tasted like victory. "And in three days, at the Gala, the whole world is going to know exactly who you are."

But sometimes else was funny. Isabella named a Cortez means she is the heir to her family is they don't get Valentina back. Was this their plan too or just a coincidence?