His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.

Chapter 666 Result

Hazel’s face went rigid. Something flickered in her eyes—pain, maybe, or anger, or both. Her hand tightened around her glass, and for a moment, he thought she might stand up and walk out.

"If you don’t want to answer, it’s okay," Dominique said quickly. "I didn’t mean to—"

Hazel shook her head, cutting him off. She took a breath, then another, and when she spoke, her voice was low.

"I have," she said. "I contacted the best doctors. World-renowned surgeons. People who fix faces for a living."

Dom waited.

"The first one flew in from overseas. He looked at my scans, examined my face, and told me he could help. Said the scar was deep, but not impossible. I was so hopeful. I booked the surgery. I was on the table, already sedated, when he came in to do one last check." Her voice cracked, just slightly. "He looked at my face under the bright light and changed his mind. Said the scar tissue was too extensive. Said the risk of nerve damage was too high. Said I might lose feeling in half my face, or worse, lose movement entirely."

Dom’s jaw tightened.

"The second one came highly recommended. He was confident at first, said he’d seen worse. But after the consultation, he called me back. Said he’d consulted with his colleagues. Said they all agreed that surgery would do more harm than good." Hazel’s eyes were red now, though she wasn’t crying. She had stopped crying years ago. "The third one didn’t even examine me. He saw my photo and refused the consultation outright."

She looked down at her hands.

"After that, I stopped trying. What’s the point? The best doctors I could find couldn’t help me. So I learned to live with it. I wore the mask. I hid. I stopped hoping."

Dom was quiet for a long moment. The afternoon light had shifted again, casting long shadows across the table.

"I know someone," he said carefully. "A doctor. She’s very good. The best, actually. She doesn’t take many patients anymore, but she might make an exception."

Hazel looked up, her eyes wary. "I’ve consulted so many doctors, Dom. They all said the same thing."

"This one is different."

"They all said they were different."

Dom leaned forward. "She’s not like the others. She doesn’t do consultations in fancy offices. She doesn’t have a waiting room full of celebrities. She works out of a small clinic, and she only takes cases that interest her." He paused. "And she’s never lost a patient."

Hazel studied his face. "You’re very confident in her."

"I am."

"Why?"

Dom shrugged. "I’m familiar with her work. I’ve seen what she can do. She’s the real deal."

Hazel was quiet for a moment. "How do you know her?"

"Just familiar with her," Dom said. "I’ve followed her career for a while."

Hazel looked down at her hands. "I’ve been told no so many times."

"I know."

"I can’t do it again."

"I know."

She looked up at him. "What if she says no too?"

Dom held her gaze. "Then I’ll be here. Same as I am now."

Hazel was quiet for a long moment. Then she nodded. "Okay. I’ll meet her. But I’m not going to hope."

Dom nodded. "That’s all I’m asking."

***

A week later, the morning light filtered through the tall windows of Leo’s study, casting long shadows across the floor. He stood by the window, his back to the room, his phone pressed to his ear. His voice was low and cold.

"The meeting is postponed," he said, his jaw tight. "Until when? No, I don’t accept that. Find out who made the decision and call me back."

He ended the call and set the phone down on his desk, harder than necessary.

The Mafia council meeting. The one he had been preparing for weeks. The one where alliances were forged, territories were divided, power was negotiated. It had been postponed without any explanation or new date. Just a vague message from the council’s secretary about "unforeseen circumstances."

Leo’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

He had been looking forward to this meeting.

His jaw tightened.

His phone buzzed again. He picked it up, ready to deliver another curt command, but the message wasn’t from his assistant. It was from Bella.

Check your email.

He frowned, his thumb hovering over the screen. She rarely sent him emails. She texted, she called, she appeared in his office doorway with coffee and a smile. Email was for business, for formalities, for things that required paper trails.

He opened his email.

There was a message from the university, addressed to him and Bella both. The subject line read: Placement Exam Results – Isabella Moretti.

He opened it.

His eyes scanned the text, moving quickly at first, then slowing as the words registered. The letter was formal, written in the careful language of academia. It thanked him for his interest in the university’s programs. It congratulated Mrs. Moretti on her successful completion of the placement exam and attached Bella’s results as a PDF.

He opened the PDF and looked directly at the score.

His eyes widened in shock. He became dazed.

How was this possible?

One hundred percent.

Perfect.

Not just passing. Not just high marks. Perfect. The kind of score that made professors call colleagues to share the news. The kind of score that would be talked about for years, referenced in faculty meetings, held up as an example of what was possible.

Leo read the score again.

Then again.

A slow smile spread across his face. The anger in his shoulders eased. The tension in his jaw softened. His Bunny. His brilliant, stubborn, wonderful Bunny.

He set the phone down and walked out of the study.

The hallway was quiet, the morning light painting the walls in shades of gold and cream. He went downstairs toward the living room.

She was there.

Bella was curled up on the couch, her knees tucked under her, her laptop balanced on the cushion beside her. She was wearing one of his old sweaters, the soft gray one that swallowed her whole, the sleeves falling past her hands. Her hair was loose and messy, still slightly damp from the shower. Her face was bare, no makeup, her cheeks flushed with the warmth of the room.

She was looking at her phone, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her brow furrowed in concentration.

She didn’t hear him approach.