The most ridiculous thing about Alexander Sullivan was that he used twisted methods to keep her, yet delusionally expected a normal husband-and-wife life.
He bought her many clothes, cosmetics, and jewelry, like a doting husband.
Those items were exorbitantly expensive.
Things Daniel Grant could only afford once a month with his salary, Alexander now bought in piles for her.
She felt no joy.
At first, she remained silent, letting him buy.
She wouldn't wear or use them anyway.
Later, he forced her to wear them.
She mocked him, "You keep me locked up here. I can't go out. Who am I dressing up for? Who will see these jewels?"
He said, "Who said you can't go out?"
She paused.
He then made her wear the luxurious clothes and expensive jewelry.
He took her out to dinners.
He even brought her to formal events, like business banquets or friends' gatherings.
When others asked about her, he introduced her as his girlfriend.
She only felt cold scorn and mockery inside.
A woman forcibly kept by his side, raped daily—that was her true identity.
He seemed to ignore her hatred and disgust.
He molded her as he pleased, whether in public or in bed.
But what Isabella Roscente couldn't stand the most was this.
"Did you enjoy that, Isabella?" he asked, holding her from behind after bringing her to climax.
He whispered in her ear, "I love holding you like this when you climax. Only in these brief moments do I feel you're truly mine. Your face isn't cold anymore. Isabella, I love you. Do you think you could ever love me too?"
A rapist, still hoping for her emotional reciprocation.
If she said no, he would fly into a rage.
She'd suffer.
If she stayed silent, he would continue relentlessly.
He wouldn't stop until she passed out and woke up again.
He'd keep asking, until her voice was hoarse from lying, "Yes."
Only then would he stop, holding her joyfully, covering her with kisses.
Love him? No. Never in this lifetime.
Now, she was mostly compliant.
But once, she couldn't hold back her furious questioning.
Three months after Daniel's death, on his birthday, Isabella asked to visit the cemetery alone.
Alexander hesitated, but agreed.
Isabella stood before Daniel's tombstone.
She wept silently for Daniel, for her own cursed fate.
Her mother was Rosalie梨花.
A famous beauty in their town, but life was harsh for her.
At seventeen, foolishly dropping out, she followed a small-time gangster.
Her grandparents disowned her in anger.
Later, she became pregnant with Isabella.
She gave birth but barely cared, leaving the child with the gangster's parents—Isabella's grandparents.
She left, rumored to be with a wealthy businessman.
She visited once when Isabella was seven.
Seeing Isabella in shabby, poor clothes, looking little better than a beggar, Rosalie—dressed in designer labels—bought her no new clothes.
She only bought some food.
She told her, "Don't envy others for their nice clothes. Before you grow up, before you can protect yourself, don't dress up. Stay as ugly as possible."
When leaving, she left some money with Isabella's grandparents.
The last news Isabella heard about Rosalie was that she committed suicide due to depression.
Isabella felt neither love nor hate for her mother.
But she heeded her words.
Before college, her hair was greasy and unkempt.
She smelled sour.
She wore large black-framed glasses hiding half her face.
She always kept her head down.
No one wanted to approach her.
Even her grades were kept average, avoiding attention.
In college, she was an adult.
She felt she could protect herself now.
She stopped intentionally making herself ugly.
She bloomed freely in the sunlight, like any normal girl loving beauty, embracing her youth and charm.
She fell in love too.
Among her many pursuers at school, she chose Daniel Grant.
He was unremarkable but mature, reliable, gentle, and an orphan like her.
They married right after graduation.
Isabella worked for two years after marriage.
Then she became pregnant.
Threatened miscarriage forced her to resign and rest at home.
After Jacob was born, she stayed home to raise him.
Last year, Jacob reached kindergarten age.
Daniel gave her money to open a shop.
She thought life was finally being kind to two souls who had known only loneliness and hardship.
But—
Daniel was driven and hardworking.
He bought a house and car in San Francisco through his own efforts.
He gave her a home.
She often felt he was her warm, safe harbor.
In the end, it seemed her beauty might have been the death of him.
Alexander told her a woman of her supreme beauty was destined for the most powerful man.
He claimed he was the man who could ultimately protect her.
She found it laughable.
Returning from the cemetery, Isabella felt drained of all strength.
She lay in bed, neither eating nor drinking, sleeping day and night.
Alexander pulled her from the bed, forcing her to sit up.
But the moment he let go, she slumped back down like overcooked noodles.
He laughed in frustration.
"You know what happens if you starve yourself to death. Go ahead. Test whether you or your son can endure hunger longer. He might die before you."
Isabella opened her eyes.
She sat up slowly.
She lifted her gaze to the man before the bed.
She looked at him with fierce, hate-filled eyes.
Then she lunged at him wildly.
"Alexander Sullivan! With your wealth and power, you could have any woman! Why target a married woman?! Give Jacob back to me! You devil! Give me back my son!!"
She clutched his shirtfront, shouting angrily.
He watched her calmly, a cold smirk on his lips.
"What? Visiting the grave brought back memories?" He gripped her shoulder with one hand, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"Why do you think I let you go there? To remind you—he's dead. Dead, understand?"
His clod eyes turned into fine needles, piercing her heart from above.
Perhaps the pain was too much, sparking rage.
Isabella no longer hid her suspicions.
She screamed at him, "You killed him! You killed him! You killed him!—You madman!"
"Who's the madman?!" he roared, enraged.
He lifted her up.
"You, accusing me of murder, are the madman! You say I killed Daniel Grant? Where's your proof?"
"It was you! It had to be you!" Isabella shrieked hysterically.
"You killed Daniel! It must have been you!"
He threw her violently onto the bed.
"If you have the courage to slander me, be prepared to face the consequences."
He left the room.
He returned half a minute later, his phone on speaker.
Jacob's terrified cries came through.
"No, Uncle, no! I'll be good! No! Hot, hot! Waaah—"
The familiar, tender voice shattered Isabella's heart.
She first rushed at Alexander, pounding his chest.
Then she dropped to her knees, kowtowing, weeping, begging him.
She begged him to spare Jacob.
She was wrong.
She admitted her mistake.
Only then did he command into the phone, "Enough." He ended the call.
Then he left.
He left her, utterly broken, alone.
Her tears flowed like a river.