Chapter 131

Isabella's POV

I lay in the private hospital bed, staring blankly at the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. Gabriel had insisted I come to the hospital for a checkup, saying my emotional fluctuations were too extreme and he worried they might affect my body. The coldness of the ultrasound gel still lingered on my skin, making me shiver slightly.

Gabriel stood beside the bed, his phone's blue glow casting sharp shadows across his angular features, making his expression even more severe than usual.

"Since Marcus wants to destroy you with that video," his voice came low and controlled, "we'll let him think he succeeded."

I slowly pushed myself upright, one hand instinctively protecting the slight curve of my abdomen. Five months along—though not obvious under the loose hospital gown, I could clearly feel her presence. During the ultrasound earlier, she'd been kicking restlessly in my belly, as if protesting this sudden disruption.

"You mean..." My voice came out hoarse from suppressing tears. "You want me to fake a miscarriage?"

Gabriel turned to face me directly. "The message has already been released—you couldn't withstand the shock of that video, your emotional breakdown triggered a miscarriage, and you're now unconscious."

He paused, his mouth curving into a smile without warmth. "And I, overwhelmed with worry, have become an empty shell, too devastated to manage family business."

I stared at him. "Will they believe it? Marcus isn't stupid, he knows you—"

"Greedy people always believe what they want to believe." Gabriel cut me off, moving to sit on the bed's edge, his long fingers covering the back of my hand.

"Marcus is drowning in the euphoria of 'success' right now. He'll convince himself that video truly broke you, and broke me too. And those jackals who've been circling Sullivan territory will be even more eager to believe I've finally shown weakness."

I looked down at his hand covering mine, my voice low as I asked, "And then? Let them tear each other apart?"

"Exactly the opportunity to clean up this entire city." His tone suppressed killing intent. "Everyone who's been secretly colluding with the Donovan family, everyone who wants to replace the Sullivans, all the fence-sitters—let them all jump out into the open, then sweep them up in one net."

His gaze fell on my rounded belly. "That's the only way you can safely deliver our child."

I bit my lower lip, my mother's image surfacing again—those eyes dulled by electric shock, those wrists marked bloody by restraints, that final unwilling gaze. I closed my eyes, drew a deep breath.

"I'll cooperate with you."

Gabriel's hand tightened, then released. He stood and walked to the window. Under the night sky, the city's lights were scattered like fallen stars. "Quincy will arrange everything—fake critical condition notices, fabricated medical records." His back to me, his shoulder line tense. "As for me, I'll display the appropriate 'breakdown.'"

"Appropriate breakdown?" I couldn't help repeating.

He returned to the bedside, leaning down to press a light kiss to my forehead. "Don't worry, my acting isn't worse than Marcus's." He straightened, resuming that cold, hard expression. "Starting tomorrow, the entire city will witness a Gabriel who's lost his soul over his lover and child."

The next morning, I was transferred to the hospital's special care unit, the entire process completed under cover of darkness to maintain the illusion of crisis. The room reeked of disinfectant, various medical equipment emitting rhythmic beeping sounds.

Gabriel brought an elaborately forged "medical file"—detailing how emotional trauma had caused my threatened miscarriage, how I'd lost excessive blood during emergency treatment and fallen into a coma.

"The nurses' station will 'accidentally' let a few visitors glimpse the records." Gabriel stood at the foot of the bed. "By afternoon, the whole city will know your 'condition.'"

His expression softened slightly as he reached out to cover my belly. Through the thin hospital gown, I could feel the warmth of his palm. Just then, the baby kicked—right where his hand rested. Gabriel froze momentarily, then showed a smile touched with wonder.

"She's protesting," he said softly. "Protesting that we've dragged her into this performance too."

"Then let's end this performance quickly." I gripped his hand. "So she can be born safely."

Time seemed to stretch, each minute becoming unbearably long. I lay quietly in the sterile ward, waiting for our trap to gradually spring into action. When afternoon sunlight finally slanted through the blinds, Quincy appeared in the ward with the latest intelligence.

"The news has spread." He opened his tablet, the screen displaying activity reports from various gang families. "The Kozlov family in the East District has begun mobilizing forces—they've always coveted control of the docks, and now thinking Boss is too distracted to notice, they're planning to seize the opportunity."

"What else?" I asked.

"The Petrov brothers in the North District are also making moves, contacting several neutral families, trying to form an alliance." Quincy swiped the screen. "Additionally, Marcus's side has been unusually quiet, no activity at all."

"He's waiting," I said quietly. "Waiting to see if Gabriel's breakdown is real or fake."

Quincy nodded. "Boss's assessment matches yours. So he's decided—" he paused, "to make the situation even more chaotic."

"What do you mean?"

"Tonight, someone will attack one of the Sullivan family's warehouses." Quincy's expression remained impassive. "Boss has already arranged it—the attackers will succeed, the losses will be 'devastating.'"

I stared at him. "He's deliberately showing weakness?"

"Drawing the snakes out of their holes." Quincy closed the tablet. "Only by letting them taste success will they lower their guard and commit fully. And when that happens—that's when Boss strikes back."

---

Marcus's POV

I stood in the Donovan estate's study, whiskey glass in hand, gazing through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the nightscape below. On the desk, my laptop screen looped footage of Sullivan's East District warehouse engulfed in flames.

"Such a shame," I murmured, my mouth curving into an icy smile. "Didn't expect that child to be so weak, couldn't even withstand this small setback." I paused, my tone dripping with mockery. "Though perhaps it's for the best—saves me the trouble of dealing with it myself."

Felix stood nearby, respectfully reporting to me. "According to our hospital source, Miss Langley did indeed miscarry and remains unconscious. Sullivan has been at the hospital since last night, his condition is poor."

He consulted his tablet. "Tonight's East District warehouse was attacked, Sullivan's people put up almost no resistance, losses were severe."

"His condition is poor?" I repeated, turning around. "Gabriel Sullivan, the man who personally killed his first enemy at fifteen, would collapse over a woman and an unborn child?"

Felix hesitated. "The Kozlov family has already begun positioning at the docks, the Petrov brothers are also contacting other families. Based on their reactions, everyone believes Sullivan has genuinely lost his usual vigilance."

I fell silent for a moment, walked to the desk and set down my glass, my long fingers tapping the surface rhythmically. "Let those people make a few more moves. I want to see how long Gabriel can keep up this act."

"You mean..." Felix looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes. "You believe Sullivan is performing?"

"How could Gabriel collapse so easily?" I sneered. "If he were that fragile, he'd have been killed long ago."

Felix asked, "Then should we..."

"Let Kozlov and Petrov continue their attacks." I tossed my phone onto the desk. "Since Gabriel wants to perform, we'll play along to the end. Let those fools think they've gained the upper hand, let them commit everything."

I turned to face Felix, my eyes cold as a winter lake. "I want to see what his real objective is."

"Then we..."

"We do nothing." I cut him off. "At least not now. Let Kozlov and Petrov test his limits, exhaust his strength."

I raised my freshly poured whiskey, toasting the city beyond the window, my reflection appearing ghostly in the dark glass. "Come on, Gabriel," I said softly, my eyes gleaming with madness. "Let me see how long you can keep up this act. Let me see if you've truly broken over a woman and a child, or if you're playing a much bigger game."

The amber liquid glinted in the light as I brought the glass to my lips. In that moment, watching the fires burning across the city I sought to control, I smiled.

"Either way, I won't lose this game."