Chapter 130: Chapter 130 SweetTooth
She stepped out the door, humming to herself, and her eyes lit up when she saw the luxurious black car waiting just for her. The driver opened the backseat door and she practically bounced over, clutching her phone and small purse tight. She was so excited she didn’t even peek inside.
Thud! She hopped onto the leather seat and then froze like a rabbit caught in headlights.
There he was.
Leonardo Moretti, the devil himself — perfectly put together in an expensive grey suit that hugged his wide shoulders and lean frame just right. The crisp white shirt collar peeked out, his top button undone just enough to draw her eyes to the strong line of his throat. His grey eyes — somehow colder and sharper when they matched his suit — flicked up from his phone, pinning her in place.
Bella’s mouth fell open. "Y-you—!" she squeaked, her fingers gripping her purse so tight her knuckles turned white.
Leonardo’s lips curved just slightly, as if he was amused by her shock but his expression stayed unreadable. He clicked his phone off, sliding it into his pocket with that same calm, controlled grace that always made her heart do weird flips.
"Sit properly," he said, his voice cool but quiet, making her stomach twist up like a knot.
Bella slowly settled back into the seat, tugging her skirt down, her cheeks burning hot. She didn’t dare ask why he was here — not yet. Her mind was racing, heart thudding so loud she wondered if he could hear it in the small space of the car.
And all the way, as the car pulled away from the driveway, she could feel his eyes on her.
When the car finally pulled up outside the ElliVFX Studio, Bella’s eyes sparkled. She couldn’t wait to see her friends again — especially Rumi, who always made her laugh, and Elli, who always praised her work so kindly. She thanked the driver with a soft "Thank you!" and hopped out, hugging her bag to her chest.
But just before she walked through the glass doors, she paused on the pavement and turned around. The black car was still there — Leo’s car. For a moment, she wondered if he’d roll down the window and say something. Anything.
But the tinted glass stayed dark. The car pulled away, sleek and silent, like he’d never been there at all.
Bella pressed her lips together, shaking her head as she pushed through the studio doors.
Meanwhile, in his car, Leonardo sat in the backseat, one arm draped over the leather armrest, his other hand scrolling through his phone — his cold grey eyes focused on the screen.
Bella Zone.
Jay had mentioned it once, almost teasing — "You’d be shocked, bro, your wife’s actually got some brains behind that pretty face. She runs her own digital shop." Leonardo hadn’t paid it much mind back then. He’d just thought it was another of Jay’s jokes.
But now he was seeing it for himself — every page she’d built by hand, every product she’d crafted with her small fingers. LUTs, overlays, editing guides... each piece more outstanding than the last. His thumb paused over the details about her custom services.
He didn’t know why the sight of it made his chest feel tight for a moment — so he brushed the feeling off.
A flicker of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he made a new account, using an old throwaway email. He typed in the username: SweetTooth.
It made him think of her — how she always beamed when she had desserts, how her eyes lit up when she hugged that ridiculous plushie she’d named Berry or whatever.
Without hesitating, he added every single product to the cart — not bothering to check prices and paid in full with his private card.
But that small warmth in his chest vanished as he closed the tab. His eyes turned colder, darker.
"Drive to her old house," he ordered the driver, his tone like a blade wrapped in silk.
"Yes, sir."
As his car sped down the narrow road, two more cars trailed behind him, shadows keeping pace with the king they served.
***
Bella’s uncle was sprawled on his battered old couch, the stale stink of cheap liquor clinging to his skin like a second layer of sweat. The cracked glass bottle dangled from his fingertips, threatening to slip but never quite falling — just like him. A single buzzing fly circled the empty cans on the floor.
Every night since that girl had escaped, he’d cursed her under his breath, spit slurring out of the corner of his mouth. Ungrateful brat.
He’d fed her, clothed her — at least enough to keep her alive. And how did she repay him? By running away like a little rat and almost breaking his damn head when she fought him off.
"She’ll come crawling back one day... she’ll see... needs a man to look after her, huh..." he mumbled to the empty room, half-laughing as he reached for another bottle.
CRACK!
The door slammed open so violently the rusty hinges squealed in protest. A gust of cold air blew in, scattering the stack of old newspapers on the floor.
He squinted, vision swimming. There was a figure in the doorway — tall, broad-shouldered, framed by the harsh afternoon sun. The man stepped inside with a slow, measured calm that made something deep in the uncle’s gut twist with an animal sense of danger.
"What—who’re you—" the old man croaked, wiping his mouth with the back of his trembling hand. "You— you with her? That little witch send you here?"
Leonardo Moretti didn’t answer him.
His polished shoes stepped over the filth on the floor without a single speck landing on the perfect black leather. The bodyguards lingered outside, silent shadows ready to pounce if needed but their boss didn’t need them for this.
Leonardo’s grey eyes swept across the tiny living room — the grime, the mold, the broken lamp on the floor. His cold gaze settled on the uncle’s sunken face.
He could almost see Bella here: small, malnourished, that bright spirit locked in this rotting prison. The image made his knuckles ache from the urge to hit something.