His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.-Chapter 610 What was happening to her?

Dominique King. Social media.

His page loaded, and Hazel found herself scrolling.

Photo after photo of him, on runways, in studios, against breathtaking backdrops. He was stunning in every single one. But as she scrolled, she noticed something.

No women.

Not one photo with a female model, not one arm around a co-star, not one hint of anyone who might be more than a colleague. Just him.

A smile tugged at her lips.

She kept scrolling.

Older photos. Years ago. He looked younger here, softer in the face, the sharp angles of his jaw not yet fully defined, but already beautiful. Already photogenic. Even at fifteen or sixteen, the camera loved him.

Hazel scrolled slowly, her thumb moving at a lazy pace, taking in each image. Him at what looked like a beach, sun-kissed and grinning. Him in a casual hoodie, caught mid-laugh by someone else’s camera. Him at what appeared to be a fashion event even then, looking slightly awkward but undeniably striking.

Then she stopped.

Her finger froze over the screen.

It was a school photo. He looked around fourteen or fifteen, if she guessed correctly. Maybe younger. The photo captured him in a school uniform, white shirt, blazer, striped tie. But the tie was loose, undone, hanging carelessly around his neck. He was holding one end of it in his hand, looking directly at the camera with that same dark-eyed intensity he had now, only softer. Younger. More mischievous.

His hair was messy. Artfully disheveled, or maybe he’d just run his fingers through it one too many times. A few strands fell across his forehead, and Hazel had the strangest urge to reach through the screen and brush them away.

He was looking at the camera like he knew a secret. Like he was about to laugh. Like the whole world was amusing and he was the only one in on the joke.

Her eyes drifted to the caption below:

Who knew I skipped school one day and the next day I got elected as "Most Handsome Guy" of my school. Priorities, people. Priorities.

Hazel laughed out loud.

Of course. Of course that would happen to him.

She zoomed in on the photo, studying every detail. The hint of baby fat still clinging to his cheeks. Those eyes, already devastating even then.

He must have been so cute as a baby, she thought. Round cheeks. Tiny fingers. Those same dark eyes looking up at the world with curiosity.

The image made her heart beat loudly.

She kept staring at the photo, zooming in and out, noticing new details each time. The way his school blazer was slightly too big. The scuff on one of his shoes. The tiny scar near his eyebrow she’d never noticed before, probably from some childhood adventure.

Her thumb hovered over the save button.

She shouldn’t. This was weird. Stalking someone’s old photos late at night while wearing silk?

She saved it anyway.

Then another. And another. A whole album of younger Dom, stretching back years, showing the boy he’d been before the world had polished him into the man he was now.

Hazel set her phone down, pressed both hands to her chest, and tried to slow her racing heart.

What was happening to her?

She’d been engaged to Nicolas for months and never once felt compelled to scroll through his old photos at midnight, smiling like an idiot at his teenage awkwardness.

But Dom made her want to know everything. Every version of him. Every moment that had shaped him into the ridiculous, beautiful, kind man who had followed her to a waterfall and carried her back when her feet hurt.

She picked up her phone again.

One more photo. Just one.

An hour later, she finally fell asleep, phone on her pillow, Dom’s schoolboy smile frozen on the screen.

Meanwhile, Leo didn’t come for dinner.

Bella waited. Picked at her food. Checked her phone. Waited some more.

She understood, he was busy. Meetings, business, the endless demands of being Leo Moretti. It happened. She wasn’t going to be upset about it.

She decided she would eat with him when he got home. Keep him company. Make sure he actually ate something instead of running on coffee and tension.

But the hours passed.

8 PM. 9 PM. 10 PM.

At 11:30, Bella was curled up in bed, still awake, still waiting. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. She’d changed into her nightclothes ages ago, but sleep refused to come.

She pouted at the ceiling.

Then her eyes drifted to the collection of plushies on the bed beside her. Dorabella, the pink bunny, sat propped against the pillows, looking absurdly cute with her floppy ears.

Bella grabbed her and held her up to eye level.

"I am not sharing my Leo with you," she informed the bunny seriously. "Even though you’re cute. He’s mine."

Dorabella stared back with blank button eyes, unimpressed.

Bella huffed and pushed her away, reaching instead for Moonbeam, her favorite, the one she actually slept with. She hugged the soft plush close, burying her face in its fur.

Minutes passed.

Then she heard the sound of the bedroom door opening.

Bella’s head snapped up, heart lifting. Finally!

She scrambled off the bed, bare feet padding softly against the floor. The room was dim, the lamp casting long shadows, and she couldn’t quite see his face as he moved toward the vanity table.

He was taking off his watch. Setting it down. His back to her.

"Leo..." she called softly.

No answer.

She stepped closer. "Are you tired?"

Still nothing.

He hadn’t even glanced at her. His shoulders were rigid under his shirt. Tension radiated from him in waves.

Bella’s brow furrowed. "Are you listening to me?"

She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing her cheek against his back. He was warm. Solid. Home.

But the moment she touched him, his hands shot up. Caught her wrists. Pulled her arms away from his body in one swift, hard motion.

He turned.

And Bella’s blood ran cold.

His eyes.

Dark.

Dangerous.

Not Leo. Not the man who looked at her like she was precious. This felt like someone else. Someone cold and furious and barely contained.

He looked at her like she was a stranger. Like he didn’t recognize her.

"Leo?" Her voice came out small and scared.

He didn’t answer.

Just stood there, holding her wrists, his eyes black in the dim light.