Isabella sat cross-legged on the big fluffy carpet in her new room, her laptop open on the low table as the soft glow of the screen lit up her excited face. The plush strawberry rabbit was lying beside her, watching loyally like her silent cheerleader. She was bored being left alone most days—Leonardo was always away, and no one in the mansion really spoke to her unless necessary.
But boredom wasn’t sothing Isabella let linger for long.
She had already decided: if she was going to be here, she wouldn’t just sit around. She wanted her own money. Her own freedom. And most importantly—no one should ever control her again. Not her uncle. Not Jessica. Not even her cold husband.
So, she quietly opened a new private digital bank account—this one encrypted and secure, far away from the old joint account her uncle used to spy on. She smiled to herself. That account was basically a trap. If she moved even a single coin there, he’d know.
Now, she had her own secret vault.
But where would the money co from? Because she didn’t want to reveal her identity as a hacker.
She didn’t want to take any more from Leonardo’s card, even if he had probably forgotten he gave it. So, she launched sothing of her own.
Bella Zone.
Her first-ever online shop.
It wasn’t anything big—just a clean digital storefront with warm peach and beige colors, her favorite tones. She uploaded her hand-designed LUTs for color grading, a few cute cinematic overlays, and even environntal 3D assets she’d built over the years.
They were surprisingly high quality. She had never planned to sell them, but figured—why not try?
She made a few basic advertisents using her coding skills and dropped them into popular niche forums and editing groups. Not many people knew it was her. She never revealed her hacker identity. She didn’t want to be famous. She didn’t want to be found.
But within two days... sales started coming in.
And not just one or two.
One LUT pack sold for $350.
A full 3D texture set went for $1,000.
Isabella blinked at the paynt notifications, mouth slightly open.
"...People actually bought it?"
She whispered, hugging her bunny plushie tightly.
Bella Zone was working. She was making real money. Secretly.
One rainy afternoon, as soft thunder rumbled in the distance and the sky outside her window turned gray-blue, Isabella sat curled in her blanket with her laptop warm on her legs. She was sipping hot chocolate—extra sweet, the way she liked it and watching the sales on Bella Zone slowly tick upward like a quiet celebration.
She had just sold another LUT pack when a new email popped up in her inbox.
Subject: Inquiry about your LUTs — Urgent Collaboration Request
Her heart skipped.
She clicked it quickly, her curiosity growing.
•••
From:
Hi Eli,
Thank you so much for your kind words. I’m really happy the LUTs worked well for your project—it ans a lot coming from professionals like you.
As for custom work, I’m open to it. We can discuss what you need and I’ll prepare a few samples. However, I prefer to keep my identity private. I hope that won’t be an issue.
We can communicate securely through email or encrypted chat, and I always deliver my work on ti.
Looking forward to your ideas!
Best,
B.
She hit send and stared at the rain hitting the window.
***
In just a few weeks, Isabella had unknowingly enchanted the entire mansion.
It wasn’t because she tried hard—it was simply her nature.
She always greeted the staff with a soft smile and folded hands, and rembered everyone’s nas. When she started baking in the vast kitchen, her cookies ca out in the shape of hearts, stars, and bunnies, decorated with pastel icing and tiny ssages like "Have a sweet day!" or "Smile please!"
At first, Clara and the other maids thought she was just being polite.
But then she started slipping extra cookies into napkins for the gardeners, leaving slices of cake for the late-night guards, and even offering warm brownies to the grumpy chef who never smiled.
Now? The chef secretly kept her handwritten recipe card in his drawer. The bodyguards, stiff as statues, would awkwardly nibble her cake during breaks—never admitting how much they liked the softness or the way it made them feel like soone cared.
To them, Bella wasn’t the boss’s wife—she was the sunshine of the house.
Every evening, around an hour before dinner, she curled up on the huge sofa with her plushies and watched cartoons. Sotis, she even laughed out loud, and the maids walking by would smile without realizing it.
She had slowly built a small world for herself in the cold, intimidating mansion.
So much so... she kind of forgot she had a husband.
Leonardo hadn’t been ho in nearly two months. No ssages. No calls.
But Isabella didn’t mind. Not really.
She had her laptop, her tiny business, her daily cartoons, and her new-found peace.
Besides, she wasn’t entirely alone.
Jay video-called her at least twice a week, usually to gossip about people at the mafia etings. Lina, her stylish mother-in-law, called five tis a week without fail. She always asked if Bella was eating properly, taking care of herself,
And next week Lina was visiting again.
"I’m bringing you sothing special, darling," Lina had said in her elegant voice over the last call.
Now Isabella was excited.
She even began planning what to bake for Lina’s arrival.
Maybe pink cupcakes? Or chocolate hearts?
She wanted to make her proud.
After all, this mansion... finally started to feel like ho.
After dinner, Isabella quietly slipped out to the garden, her soft steps almost lost in the cool night breeze. The landscape lighting glowed warmly along the stone path, casting golden shadows across the neatly trimd hedges and flower beds. It was peaceful—nothing like the dark, frightening nights she used to hide from.
Here, she wasn’t scared.
Guards patrolled quietly at a distance, always keeping an eye out but never disturbing her. They had gotten used to seeing her little form wrapped in a shawl, holding a cup of warm milk or a cookie, wandering like a sleepy kitten.
She loved the night air.
Especially the gentle scent of jasmine that blood after dark, so fresh and delicate it made her smile without aning to. Her bare feet padded softly on the grass as she reached the small lake behind the mansion, where golden koi fish lazily swam in circles, occasionally catching the moonlight on their shiny backs.
She crouched near the water, hugging her knees, and just watched them for a while.
"This feels like a dream," she whispered to herself.
She didn’t miss her past at all. Not the shouting, not the fear, not the loneliness. She had her own room, her soft bed, her laptop, her bunny and unicorn. And she wasn’t just surviving anymore—she was slowly beginning to live.
Later that night, back in her room, Isabella changed into her cute pajamas—soft blue with little cloud prints and matching fuzzy socks. She tied her hair into a ssy bun and jumped on her bed with a sigh.
Her laptop blinked on the nightstand, but she ignored it.
She picked up her tablet instead and began scrolling through her favorite tech catalog.
"Did I ntion... I love shopping?" she grinned to herself.
Not clothes. Not makeup.
Electronics.
Gadgets. Parts. Tools.
The thrill of building sothing, coding it, breathing life into it.
She found a mini soldering kit she always wanted and bookmarked it.
But she didn’t use Leonardo’s card at all.
She had her Bella Zone inco now and it was more than enough.
Isabella lay curled under her blanket, eyes half-closed as the soft hum of the AC filled the room. She had no idea when her mysterious, cold husband was planning to return.
He hadn’t called.
He hadn’t ssaged.
Not even a "how are you?"
And honestly... she didn’t even know if he rembered he had a wife.
"Maybe he’s forgotten I exist," she muttered, flipping to her side and hugging her bunny plushie. "Or maybe he’s just really, really busy being a mafia boss."
She frowned.
Even Lina had stopped ntioning when Leonardo might return. Jay would just laugh and change the subject. Clara the butler would politely say, "Master is handling business matters," and nothing more.
Was she supposed to wait forever?
Isabella puffed her cheeks and sat up on her bed.
"Hmph. Whatever. I’m living just fine without him," she told the stuffed unicorn beside her. "I don’t need a grumpy husband to survive. I have cookies, cartoons, and a successful hacker life."
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