Chapter 3

Isabella's POV

I carefully slipped out of Marcus's embrace and walked barefoot toward the study. Each step felt like walking on knife edges, afraid of waking him.

The study door was slightly ajar. I used my phone's flashlight, the weak beam trembling in the darkness.

That "Behavioral Patterns" folder was still in place, protruding awkwardly. I took a deep breath and reached for it.

The paper was thick, the handwriting terrifyingly neat.

I opened the first page, and my blood instantly froze.

'David Thompson, 28, suspected child molester.'

I remembered this case. Three months of investigation, insufficient evidence, finally transferred to other colleagues. Later heard David had "committed suicide."

My hands began trembling as I continued turning pages.

'Sarah Johnson, 31, nurse who abused elderly patients.'

Another one of my cases! I'd given up due to lack of evidence, still remembered how furious I was. Sarah later "committed suicide" too.

"No, no, no..." I frantically denied it in my mind.

Third page. 'Mark Stevens, 35, hit-and-run drunk driver.'

My case! My request for extended investigation was denied, forced to transfer it. Mark also died, newspapers said "suicide from guilt."

Last page. 'Emma Davis, 29, teacher, suspected of molesting students.'

I almost screamed. This was my case too! The school covered up the truth, my recommendation for deeper investigation was rejected by superiors. Emma also "committed suicide."

The last line in the file completely broke me:

[Clearing the shadows from Isabella's work so she can focus only on our love. Her pain is my pain, her failures are my failures. —M]

I frantically started taking photos with my phone while uploading them to my private email, hands shaking so badly I could barely hold the phone. This was evidence, ironclad evidence!

Marcus killed them.

Marcus killed four people to make my work "smooth."

What I thought was "luck," what I thought was "going with the flow," was all built on blood.

"Click."

A slight mechanical sound.

Suddenly, the study blazed with light, the blinding white glare exposing me completely.

"Damn!" I realized I'd triggered some mechanism.

I frantically closed the folder, shoved my phone into my pajama pocket, and rushed toward the door.

But outside the door, Marcus stood quietly.

He wore a dark blue robe, hair slightly disheveled, but those eyes were terrifyingly alert.

"You shouldn't have seen those, Isabella." His voice was calm as still water.

"I... I was just looking for a book to read." My voice trembled; even I didn't believe this clumsy lie.

Marcus stepped forward, and I instinctively backed away.

"What did you see?" he asked.

"Marcus, those cases... those people are all dead..." I was almost roaring.

"Yes." He calmly admitted it. "They're all dead."

The world stopped turning in that moment.

"Why?" My voice was as weak as a mosquito's. "Why kill them?"

Marcus's expression suddenly became gentle, looking at me like coaxing a child: "Because they made you suffer, baby. They made you work overtime, lose sleep, cry."

"That's not a reason to kill!"

"No, that's the best reason." Marcus walked toward me as I continued backing away until my back hit the wall. "When I was seven, my stepmother Dr. Helena Reed taught me a principle: to get what you want, you must eliminate all obstacles."

My stomach began churning. "So you killed them? Made it look like suicide?"

"I liberated you, Isabella." Marcus's eyes flickered with mad light. "Without those annoying cases, you could focus on loving me. Without work pressure, you could become the real Isabella."

"I'm an FBI agent!" I screamed. "My job is to catch killers like you!"

Marcus's expression instantly turned cold.

"You want to catch me?" He laughed softly. "Isabella, do you really think those 'successes' were due to your own ability?"

Those words hit my heart like a sledgehammer.

"David Thompson would have escaped because he had connections. I made him shut up forever."

"Sarah Johnson had hospital protection, you'd never bring her down. I handled it for you."

"Mark Stevens bought off witnesses, your investigation was doomed to fail. I ended him for you."

"Emma Davis had the school board backing her, your report would sink without a trace. I made her pay."

Each sentence was like a knife stabbing my heart. I began dry heaving, my stomach churning.

"I want you to belong only to me!" Marcus suddenly exploded, grabbing my shoulders. "Not those damn cases, not those rotten people, not that work that causes you pain! Just our love!"

"This isn't love!" I pushed him away. "This is crime! You're a monster!"

Marcus's face instantly contorted.

"Monster?" His voice became shrill. "I'm your protector! I eliminated everyone who hurt you! I made you perfect!"

"You made me an accomplice!" I rushed toward the door. "I'm reporting you to the FBI!"

Marcus quickly blocked my path.

"You want to betray me? Betray our love?"

"This isn't love, this is insane control!"

"Without me, you're nothing!" Marcus roared. "You could never solve those cases! You need me!"

I desperately tried to rush out, Marcus reached out to stop me. In the violent struggle, I lost my balance.

The back of my head struck the door handle hard.

Intense pain instantly pierced through my brain, warm liquid flowing down my neck.

"Isabella!" Marcus's voice became panicked. "Baby, I didn't mean to!"

My vision began blurring, consciousness slipping away. On the edge of unconsciousness, I heard Marcus's trembling voice:

"Wake up... I can't lose you... we have a lifetime to spend together..."

A lifetime?

He wanted to imprison me for a lifetime?

Then darkness swallowed me.