His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.-Chapter 501 He never deserved you

William nodded, his eyes glistening. "I know how it sounds," he said, his voice rough. "That’s why I didn’t want to say this lightly. I wouldn’t dare."

He turned slightly, extending his hand. His secretary immediately placed a thick folder into William’s grasp. William held it for a moment, staring at it, then reached out toward Bella.

"Please," he said softly. "Read it."

Bella’s hands trembled as she accepted the folder. The weight of it felt wrong, too heavy for paper alone. Her fingers hovered over the cover for a moment, her chest tight, her breathing shallow.

Leo watched her closely.

"Bella," he said quietly, ready to stop this the second she asked.

She swallowed and nodded, barely perceptible. "I... I’m okay."

Slowly, with unsteady fingers, Bella opened the folder.

The pages rustled softly in the quiet room, far too loud in her ears. Her eyes moved across the medical stamps, the official seals, the cold, precise words that did not care about feelings.

DNA report.

Match confirmed.

William swallowed hard.

"That day... when I came here to meet you," he said, his voice breaking as he searched for words, "when you were unwell... I didn’t know how to say it then." His hand trembled slightly as he gestured weakly. "I took a strand of your hair. After I saw your father’s photograph."

Bella’s breath hitched.

"Your father, Jude," William continued, tears gathering in his eyes, "is my second son. Finley."

The name fell heavily between them.

"I’m sure of it," he said hoarsely. "He was a hacker. A brilliant programmer. Sharp-minded, stubborn, too kind for his own good." A broken smile touched William’s lips for a brief second. "Just like you."

Bella felt her chest tighten painfully.

"And because of Jessica," William went on, his voice cracking now, "we were separated. Lies. Manipulation. Pride. Everything went wrong." His shoulders shook as the weight of decades finally collapsed in on itself. "I searched for him. I tried. But he vanished. And now..."

He covered his face with one hand, unable to hold himself together any longer.

"I am so old," he cried softly. "Why didn’t God give my remaining years to my son? Why him? Why did I have to lose him before I could even tell him I was sorry?"

Bella stood frozen for a heartbeat, shock still rippling through her veins. But when she saw his shoulders trembling, when she heard the raw grief in his voice, something inside her softened and ached.

She stepped forward.

Carefully, gently, she wrapped her arms around him.

William stiffened in surprise for a moment, then completely broke down, his hand gripping the back of her shoulder as silent sobs shook his frail body.

"It’s okay," Bella whispered, her own eyes burning. "You don’t have to cry alone."

Her heart clenched painfully.

She didn’t fully understand everything yet. Her world had just tilted on its axis. But in that moment, holding a grieving old man who had lost his son, she felt something unfamiliar and fragile take shape in her chest.

"You’re... you’re my granddaughter," he sobbed, his voice breaking completely as he held her tighter, as if letting go might make her disappear. "My son’s child... my family."

Bella stayed still in his arms, her hands hovering for a moment before resting lightly against his back. Her eyes were glossy, unfocused with complex emotions.

She didn’t cry. She simply closed her eyes, breathing in slowly, letting his grief wash over her while her own heart struggled to understand this new truth that had just rewritten her entire life.

She was the granddaughter of William Warren Wilson.

Leo stood frozen where he was, his sharp mind momentarily failing him.

William Warren Wilson. The man whose name alone could shake industries, whose shadow stretched across politics, finance, and power itself. And Bella... his Bella... was connected to him by blood.

For the first time in a very long while, Leo felt something close to disbelief.

William, still holding Bella, looked broken in a way Leo had never seen before. Not the powerful tycoon. Not the untouchable legend. Just an old man mourning the son he lost and clinging to the granddaughter he had found too late.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Snap.

The sound cut through the darkness like a gunshot.

An arrow buried itself dead center into the target, the force shuddering through the concrete wall. The room was dim, lit only by a single overhead bulb that swung slowly, casting long, warped shadows across the space. Every inch of the walls was covered in photographs. Dozens of them. Hundreds.

Each one was the same woman.

Isabella.

Smiling.

Laughing.

Sitting quietly.

Walking beside Leonardo.

Leaning into him.

Being held by him.

Snap.

Another arrow flew, sharper, angrier.

This one struck straight through a photograph of Leo’s arm wrapped around her waist, the arrowhead pinning his presence to the wall like an accusation.

"Tsk."

The voice that followed was low, amused, and twisted with something far darker than jealousy.

"You really think you’re allowed to be happy, Leonardo?" he murmured, stepping closer. His boots echoed softly against the concrete floor as he studied the ruined photograph, his head tilting slightly. "After everything?"

Snap.

The next arrow pierced Leo’s face in another picture, splitting his features cleanly in two.

The man exhaled slowly, as if savoring the sight.

Then his gaze shifted.

To her.

His expression changed the instant his eyes landed on Bella’s image. The tension in his jaw softened, replaced by something unhinged, reverent, almost tender. He reached out, fingertips brushing over the glossy surface of the photo where she was smiling up at Leo, unaware.

Safe.

Too safe.

"Oh... Isabella," he whispered, his voice dropping into something intimate and dangerous. "Bella. Bella Bell."

A low laugh slipped from his throat as he traced the curve of her cheek in the photograph, his touch lingering far too long. "You look even more beautiful when you don’t know you’re being watched."

He leaned in, pressing his lips to the photograph, slow and deliberate.

"Very soon," he promised softly, his breath fogging the image, "I’ll take you away."

His smile widened, sharp and unsteady.

"And this time," he added, his eyes darkening as he glanced back at Leo’s ruined face on the wall, "I won’t lose."

Another arrow flew.

It struck directly through Leo’s eyes.

The man laughed, the sound echoing harshly off the walls as he returned his attention to Bella’s image, cradling it almost lovingly between his hands.

"My little butterfly," he murmured.

Then, with a final, possessive kiss pressed to her lips in the photograph, he added quietly, almost kindly,

"He never deserved you."