Those three words, like a key, were inserted into a lock that had rusted long ago, then turned resolutely. I heard the heavy shackles within my heart click open, releasing a strange, icy, and resolute calm that even I was unfamiliar with. The painful process of making the choice had ended; what remained was only to face the consequences of that choice.

My gaze shifted away from Damian's eyes, which had instantly ignited with a possessive frenzy at my answer, and turned to the other two important men in my life. I had to sever these tender bonds with my own hands, not for anyone else, but for myself.


I first turned my gaze to Professor Finch. The idealistic glow on his face was gradually dimming, replaced by a profound, intellectual disappointment. "Professor," my voice was unexpectedly steady, sounding as though we were discussing the composition of a painting rather than dismantling a deep friendship, "thank you. Thank you for showing me that pure world you described, which was once the dream of my lifetime."

My gaze swept over the modest yet tidy studio behind him, the sanctuary of my spirit, but at this moment, I realized with utmost clarity that it could also become my tomb for escaping reality. "But one cannot live forever in dreams. My father proved this with his life; he possessed the purest soul of art but died in poverty and despair. I cannot follow his path again." I looked at him, my eyes devoid of tears but filled with a kind of cruel clarity, "I love art, but I can no longer let it be my excuse to hide from the world. The ivory tower is beautiful, but it is too fragile, a gust of wind can bring it down. I need a fortress that can withstand storms, not an ethereal garden detached from the world."

Professor Finch's lips moved slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, it all turned into a long, heavy sigh. The light in his eyes completely faded, and the way he looked at me was as if he were gazing at his most cherished piece of art, stepping out of its frame and walking without a glance into the bustling market. He no longer tried to persuade me, only shook his head sorrowfully and took a step back—a gesture that signified his resignation.


Then, I turned to Sally. He still lay on my lap, his entire body as stiff as a stone because of the choice I had just made. I could feel his despair, seeping through my skirt like a chilling cold. I reached out and gently placed my hand on his trembling shoulder.

"Sally," my voice softened involuntarily, tinged with a hint of remorse and tenderness I hadn't even realized was there, "I'm sorry." Beyond these three words, I didn't know what else to say. Any explanation would feel hollow and insincere in the face of his broken heart at that moment.


He slowly lifted his head, those eyes that had once been as blue as a summer afternoon's sky now resembled mudland ravaged by a storm, murky and riddled with painful cracks. "Why?" His voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible, "Why him? Bella... why did it have to be him?"

"Not because of him, Sally." I forced myself to look directly into his pained eyes and spoke word by word, "It's because of me. I can no longer hide behind anyone, nor can I rely on anyone's protection or sacrifice to live. The love you gave me is too heavy for me to bear. That warm harbor, for me, is also a prison, a gentle cage that makes me forget who I am and what I want. I love you, Sally, I will always love you, but that love is the love of a sister for her brother, the love between family members. I have already lost the innocence you gave me, and I can't go back."

My words were like a blunt knife, cutting into his heart stroke by stroke, and into mine as well. I saw the last glimmer of light in his eyes extinguished, replaced by a hollow silence. He slowly released my hand, stood up, and stumbled back two steps, as if my touch would burn him. He looked at me, then at Damian, who was still kneeling before me like a guardian angel, and a smile uglier than tears appeared on his face. That smile was filled with self-mockery and utter defeat. He said nothing, only gazed at me deeply and finally, then turned and walked out of the room like a puppet stripped of its soul, step by step, out of my life.

The door was gently closed, shutting out the warm world of the past.

Now, only Damian and I remained in the room.

Finally, I focused all my attention on the man who was about to completely change my destiny. I looked at him, at his exceedingly handsome face, which was filled with the glow of a victor because of my ultimate choice. The possessiveness in his eyes almost materialized, threatening to devour me. He thought he had won, thought that my choosing him equated to choosing submission.

No, he was wrong.

I looked directly at him and spoke again a second before he rose to embrace me. My voice was colder and firmer than when I had spoken to Finch and Sally, like steel tempered in blazing fire.

"I can go with you," I said clearly, each word like a nail to be driven into the new relational contract that was about to be established between us, "but not in any of the roles you imagine. I am not your mistress, not a canary you keep in a golden cage, nor an accessory satisfied merely by the material comforts you provide."

Damian's movement to rise halted. The frenzy and possessiveness in his eyes faded slightly, replaced by a look of scrutiny and confusion. He remained in his kneeling position, slightly tilting his head up to look at me as if meeting me for the first time.

I did not retreat; instead, I straightened my back, facing his deep, penetrating black eyes, and continued, "First, I want to complete my education. I will earn my degree from the New York Art University on my own merit. You can provide the tuition, but I will consider it an interest-free loan. When I am capable in the future, I will repay every penny."

His eyebrow lifted almost imperceptibly, as if he found my proposal absurd, but he did not interrupt me.

"Secondly, I want to become an artist. Not the kind of household painter who creates works for you alone in your mansion, but a professional artist with my own career, my own name, and the ability to sell my art to the world. You need to support my career, provide me with the necessary resources and connections, but you cannot interfere with my creative freedom, nor can you judge my art by your standards."

I paused, took a deep breath, and uttered the most crucial point. My gaze became sharper than ever, like a scalpel, aiming to cut through all the ambiguous appearances between us and get straight to the core.

"Third, and most importantly. Our relationship must begin on equal footing." I looked into his increasingly deep eyes and declared word by word, "I will be your partner, the mother of your child, but never your property. There can be passion, there can be desire between us, but it must be built on respect. You cannot command me, restrict my personal freedom or social interactions, and certainly cannot attempt to control my life. You and I are two equals, raising our child together and facing the future together. If you cannot accept this premise, then the agreement we just made is now void."

I finished speaking.

The entire room fell into complete silence, so quiet that I could hear the sound of my own heart pounding violently in my chest. Like a gambler, I had pushed all the chips I had just won back to the center of the table. I didn’t know how he would react. Given his pride and need for control, it was entirely possible that he would be enraged by my "treacherous" declaration, then storm off and retract all his promises.

But I must gamble. Because what I seek is never the comfort born of dependence on him, but to use his power to reach a height where I can stand shoulder to shoulder with him.

Time passed second by second, each second feeling as long as a century.

Damian simply watched me quietly, motionless. His deep eyes were like an ancient well, all emotions hidden beneath that bottomless darkness. I couldn't see through him, not at all. All I could see was my own reflection in his black pupils—small, yet standing tall.

Just when I thought this grand gamble was about to end in my utter defeat, he smiled.

It was not a triumphant, mocking smile, nor was it the magnanimous grin of a superior looking down at an inferior. It was... a smile from the heart, tinged with a hint of helplessness, a touch of surprise, and an emotion I had never seen on his face before—something called "admiration." The taut, perfectly sculpted lines of his face, akin to a statue from ancient Greece, instantly softened with this smile, like the first rays of spring sunlight grazing a glacier, exuding a kind of breathtaking charm.

He looked at me as if he were beholding a long-lost treasure, one that shone even more brilliantly than he remembered.

"Isabella Rossi," he slowly spoke my full name, his deep, magnetic voice carrying a weight of solemnity, "You always manage to surprise me."

Then, he stood up. This time, instead of looking down at me from a superior position, he took a step back, maintaining a respectful and equal distance between us. His tall and straight figure no longer gave me a sense of oppression but instead resembled a reliable mountain.

He looked at me, and in his dark eyes, a mix of awe and admiration intertwined like a deep starry sky. He nodded solemnly and slowly, a gesture that carried more weight than any elaborate words.

"I promise you," he said, his voice filled with unprecedented seriousness, "I promise to meet all your conditions. Equality, respect. I will spend the rest of my life making up for the mistake I made with you in the beginning. I will support all your dreams and help you become whoever you want to be."

He paused, gazing at me with intense eyes, as if he wanted to lay bare his soul before me.

"And, I assure you." he articulated each word clearly, "All of this is not as an investment, not as a transaction... but as love."

Love.

This word, spoken from the mouth of Damian Blackwood, carried a force so earth-shattering. It struck my heart, melting the hard shell that had just armored it, making it tender and burning with warmth. I saw the undisguised, solemn promise in his eyes, and in that moment, I realized I had won the bet. I had not only won the future but also the heart of the most powerful and dangerous man in the world.

……

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the gaps in the windows, illuminating the chaos in the room. I awoke in Damian's arms. Nothing had happened between us; last night, after I accepted his promise, he simply held the utterly exhausted me with an almost reverent posture, and we fell asleep holding each other in that narrow bed.

I picked up the phone on the bedside table and habitually opened the news app. A notification that dominated the headlines of all financial sections instantly caught my eye.

"Breaking News: The Sterling Group has been officially investigated by the Federal Securities and Exchange Commission for suspected significant financial fraud and malicious business competition. Its CEO, Victoria Sterling, has been restricted from leaving the country. The group's stock price plummeted by over 80% immediately after the market opened and has been urgently suspended."

The accompanying image in the news was of Victoria Sterling's always haughty and beautiful face, now filled with panic and disbelief.

I put down my phone and turned to look at the man still asleep beside me. The sunlight illuminated his well-defined profile, casting long shadows of his eyelashes. At this moment, he looked peaceful and harmless, like a handsome sleeping prince.

But I knew it was just an illusion. This seemingly calm volcano, in just one night, with overwhelming force, completely erased the woman who once threatened to destroy me and the entire business empire behind her from this world.

He fulfilled his first promise: no one dared to harm me again. And when he did all this, he didn’t even wake me.