---- Now, Isabella Torrino was going to die. "One. Detonate!" A massive explosion lit up the distant sky, a fireball roaring into the night. I stared at the flames, and for the first time, I didn't cry. Isabella Torrino was dead. And a new woman was born from her ashes. Vincent's POV I walked into the mansion at 10:30 p.m. to the sound of a maid's piercing scream from upstairs. "Sir! It's the missus... she's..." I took the stairs three at a time. The scene in our bedroom was a nightmare. Ahorrifying amount of blood soaked the white sheets. ---- "Isabella!" I roared, tearing the room apart. "Where is she?" "We can't find her, sir!" the maid cried. "There's just the blood, and... and this..." She handed me a document. Divorce papers. Signed. My hands trembled as I opened the folder. Tucked inside was a faded photograph. The church, fifteen years ago. Apicture of me and a little girl... but the face wasn't Sophia's. It was Isabella. The words on the back twisted in my gut like a knife: The one who really saved you was never Sophia. The memory hit me like a freight train. ---- The rain, the fear, her small hand in mine. It was Isabella. It was always Isabella. "No... no, it can't be..." I collapsed onto the blood- stained floor. My phone rang. It was my second-in-command, Marcus, his voice frantic. "Boss! Mrs. Torrino's car... it exploded on I-94. The feds are on scene... Boss, they're saying... there are no survivors."