Chapter 2

Isabella’s POV

I grabbed the door. “You're pregnant?”

“Yes,” Sarah smiled at me. Her hand came up, resting on her tummy and she gave it a rub. “We're expecting a baby.”

I sighed. “Fuck you, Marcus.”

I went into my closet, ignoring them both. I heard footsteps behind me, but I didn't look back.

“This is for the best,” Marcus's heavy voice came from behind me. All my pain, all my crying was for the best?

“Why?” I turned to face him. “I was a good wife. I would have been a great mother. Why did you hurt me so much, Marcus?”

“It is like she said. You are terribly boring.”

I stared at him in shock. “You don't mean that.”

Marcus pursed his lips. “Suit yourself,” he turned and left me alone in here.

I grabbed a suitcase and threw my clothes in it, wiping tears from my face. Where would I go? I had nobody except him.

I dragged the box outside and met Sarah perched on Marcus' laps.

“Fuck you bitch,” I hissed at her. She looked taken back by my venom, but I couldn't care. “You tried to slither your way into a man's pants and when they all rejected your dry washed up cunt, you decided to crawl into my cheap ass husband's bed,” I spat. 

“Isabella—”

“Keep fucking her dry pussy. Enjoy your stupid lives but be prepared. I will fucking destroy the both of you,” I said, tears streaming harder. 

I dragged my box out of the house, slamming the carr boot. When I looked up, Sarah was at the window, watching me place my things into my car.

I gave her the middle finger.

Her blue eyes looked sorry, but just before she left, she smirked, letting me this was all her plan. Then she gave me the finger too.

The hotel I found for the night was terrible. It was small, smelt bad and I felt like bugs were crawling in my skin. “Ugh,” I groaned, laying on the somewhat clean bed. 

I needed a drink.

I didn't care about how I must look tonight. My husband divorced me, after I found out he was killing my babies and sleeping with my best friend. Mascara could run down my face for all I care.

There was a light shower of rain falling, like the universe felt pity for the hand I had been dealt with. After losing my parents at nineteen, Marcus was all I had. Now, I was alone.

I saw the seedy bar ahead and I entered it, prepared to drink all my sorrows away. 

I walked up to the bar, ignoring the stares from people as I passed. Yes, I was still in my custom Gucci, and yes, my hair wasn't brushed and my gown was torn from when I collapsed in the clinic. They all represented the state of my house.

“Please,” I said dryly to the bartender, “can you give me a glass of vodka?”

The older bartender, a woman, smiled at me. “Not a shot?”

“You can bring out the whole bottle for me,” I placed my platinum card on the table, “I need to get wasted.”

She poured the vodka for me, dry with no ice. Just what I needed. I picked it up and threw it back, feeling the burn of the drink go down my throat, bringing heat to my cold soul.

“Another,” I slammed the glass on the counter, perching on one of the stools. A man next to me stared so hard, I couldn't ignore him again.

“What?”

“Just curious,” he said. “Stop being curious,look away,” I snarled. 

The bartender placed another full cup in front of me and I drank it again. “More,” I belched.

“Slow down, princess,” she said. “What happened?”

I sighed. I could already feel the alcohol coursing through my body, so I was not too surprised when I told her the truth. “I am getting divorced.”

“That's sad,” she said, placing a smaller cup in front of me. “Sip,” she instructed.

I did as she asked, sipping the drink this time. “My husband cheated on me with my best friend and he is divorcing me.”

“That is horrible,” she said, pity in her eyes. “That's not even the worst part,” I laughed coarsely. “My husband, the man I have been in love with since forever, has been killing our babies,” I hit my palms on the counter.

“What?”

“Bitch, exactly what I thought,” I said. “I thought, this has to be a fucking funny joke. He poisons me and then,” the tears welled up faster, “I lost my baby.”

The bartender sighed. “Do you want a hug?”

“No, please God no.”

“He's a piece of shit.”

“How could they both do that to me?” I cried. “I loved them. She was like my sister. I took her everywhere, to every event. Introduced her to who she wanted to meet.”

The bartender cleaned the top of the counter where some drinks had been spilled. “So what's next?”

I shrugged. “I have contacted my lawyers,” I said resigned. “They would meet with him and the divorce terms would be sent to him.”

“I am really sorry, young lady. You sound sweet.”

“Oh please. I didn't even ask for much, you know. He would plan these frivolous trips and I would refuse, wanting to prove I wasn't just a liability. All I wanted,” I looked down at my arms, “was to hold my own baby you know.”

I laughed, carrying my cup up. “So cheers people,” I said to everyone in the bar, knowing they had been listening. “Cheers to cheaters and fucking evil men,” I hope they burn,” I poured the vodka into my mouth.

“Another, please.”

Just as I turned round to sit down, my eyes locked with a man sitting in a dark booth. I can feel his stare, it's different from others, his large frames almost taking up the booth.

Who is that? I thought as I drank my fifth drink of the night.