Ricardo Ferraz parked in the garage a little after ten at night.
He let out a tired sigh, loosening his tie.
A faint smile formed on his lips.
Isabella will understand…
She always did.
She always believed him when he said he was working late.
Always accepted it.
Always forgave him.
That was exactly what he liked most about her.
The ease.
The predictability.
He got out of the car calmly and walked into the house as if nothing was wrong.
As if he hadn't just spent the entire night with another woman.
"Isabella?" he called, tossing his keys onto the table.
No answer.
He frowned slightly, but didn't worry.
"Has she come back?" he asked the maid passing through the living room.
"Yes, sir. Mrs. Isabella has been in the bedroom since she arrived."
Ricardo nodded, indifferent.
"Alright."
He went upstairs with slow, unhurried steps.
No rush.
No guilt.
As if he were returning to a normal routine.
When he opened the bedroom door, he found Isabella lying on the bed, her back turned to him.
Still.
Silent.
For a brief moment, something felt off.
But he ignored it.
"Love…" he said softly, approaching her.
He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned in to kiss her.
But before his lips could touch her…
Isabella turned her face away.
The gesture was subtle.
But filled with disgust.
Ricardo frowned.
"Hey…" he murmured, letting out a small laugh. "Are you mad at me?"
Silence.
He ran a hand through his hair, sighing.
"I know, I know… I came home late again."
He tried to sound convincing.
"Long day. Meetings, clients… you know how it is."
Nothing.
No response.
No reaction.
Isabella remained still.
Cold.
Distant.
It bothered him for a brief second.
But soon, he shrugged it off.
"Don't be dramatic, Bella… you know I do this for us."
A lie.
He stood up and walked to the closet.
He started changing his clothes as if everything were perfectly normal.
As if her world hadn't been shattered just hours ago.
Minutes later, he returned to bed.
He turned off the lights.
And lay down beside her.
Instinctively, he wrapped an arm around Isabella's waist, pulling her closer.
But once again…
She pulled away.
Quickly.
As if his touch burned her.
Ricardo let out an irritated sigh.
"What is it now, Isabella?"
Still, she said nothing.
Not a single word.
That bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
But exhaustion won.
"We'll talk tomorrow…" he muttered, turning to the other side.
Within minutes…
He fell asleep.
Peacefully.
As if he had done nothing wrong.
As if he hadn't destroyed his own wife.
The room sank into silence.
Heavy. Cold.
Isabella's eyes slowly opened in the darkness.
She hadn't slept.
Not even for a second.
Her body was stiff.
Her mind… even more.
She slowly turned her head, watching Ricardo sleep beside her.
So calm.
So careless.
So… disgusting.
A wave of repulsion ran through her body.
That man…
The man who touched her as if he had the right…
Was the same one who betrayed her.
Who lied to her.
Who poisoned her.
Her fingers tightened slightly over the sheets.
But she didn't cry.
Not this time.
Tears were no longer enough.
Carefully, Isabella picked up her phone from the nightstand.
The screen softly lit up the dark room.
A new message.
She opened it.
Her heart beat faster as she read:
"The divorce process has already been initiated. In three days, you can collect the documents."
Isabella remained silent for a few seconds.
Letting every word sink in.
Three days.
That was all that was left.
She slowly locked the screen.
And stared back at the ceiling.
This time…
There was no pain in her eyes.
Only determination.
Ricardo Ferraz still believed he had everything under control.
But he had no idea…
That his wife was already about to disappear from his life forever.