Isabel’s POV
“Change that dress, you look awful in it.” Alexander said in a commanding tone.
The dress, a red revealing short gown, which hugged my curves, featuring a daring plunging neckline.
Glancing through myself and looking back at the mirror, I asked, “what’s wrong with my dress, not like it’s the first time am wearing it.”
“I don’t have to give you any explanation or talk further on this, just change it like I said!” He retorted.
His tone is cold, but still handsome as ever.
He stood at an imposing 6’3”, his height adding to his commanding presence.
Alexander used to love me. I want to believe so.
He used to be a loving and doting husband. Even though there’s a side of him that I’m yet to understand. He’s sometimes aggressive, tends to be controlling and commanding.
I’ve tried to talk to him, but it always ends in arguments, never accepting the fact that he has an issue.
It has just been messy.
My once loving husband has turned to a stranger.
I couldn't even break the news of my pregnancy with him.
He’s hardly ever around, barely shows interest or ever listens.
I don’t even know who to confide in about what’s going on.
His mom, Sabbrina, the bossy and authoritative Chairwoman of the King’s Empire, makes matters worse.
She hates that an ordinary girl like me is married to her billionaire son.
Her son, Alexander King is the CEO and heir to the King’s Empire. The billion dollar company that has their branch spread across Los Angeles.
It’s crazy.
I sometimes ask myself, “Is he still the same man I fell in love with and married?”
“Am I leaving with an entirely different person?”
At times, I feel like I didn’t know Alexander well enough to marry him.
Today, I can’t seem to understand the display of attitude over my dress.
After several careful thoughts, I decided to ask, looking directly into his cute blue eyes. “Alexander, do you still love me? trying to find a console in his reply.
But was torn aback by his reply.
He glares at me for a moment longer, placing his hand at the back of his neck, as if trying to find a way out, before finally saying, “You don’t need to ask me such a question.” I have a meeting to attend to, I’m leaving.
Of course, as the CEO of a billion dollar company, he’d definitely choose that over me anytime!
He always chooses work over me, like I meant nothing to him.
The tension in the room is icy, and I don’t know how long I would hold up before I break down.
And just like that, Alexander left, leaving me with my unanswered questions.
“Could it be that he’s fed up, and he’s already tired of me?” Tears rolls down my eyes uncontrollably.
I sit by the window, staring blankly at the rain-soaked cityscape. My eyes, feeling the weight of sadness and betrayal.
Every morning, I wake up hoping for a change, only to be met with the same icy demeanor.
For the past year of our marriage, my husband’s possessiveness had grown stifling, his need to control every aspect of my life left me feeling trapped and suffocated.
The lack of love was palpable; his touch, once gentle and reassuring, now felt like a shackle.
My heart keeps aching for the man I had once known, for the love that had promised to stand the test of time. I felt invisible, my needs and desires are completely overshadowed by his incessant need for dominance. The home that once echoed with laughter and joy now felt like a prison, each room a silent witness to my despair.
I sometimes trace the lines of our wedding photo, lingering my fingers on our faces who now seem like strangers. I longed for the days when his love felt like a safe harbor, not the storm that it now is.
As the rain poured outside, it mirrored my tears which I no longer had the strength to cry, each drop could speak of my broken heart and our love that seemed irreparably lost.
I turned to my phone, wanting to dial my mother. But on a second thought, I wouldn’t want to make her worry over this.
As an only child. My mother, Celyn, doesn't joke with me. She gets too worked up and worries a lot with anything concerning me. If I get her involved, she’s ready to appear here immediately just to make sure I’m fine. I definitely will not want her worrying.
“I will just wait for Alexander to be home, just maybe he wasn’t in a good mood then.” I said aloud trying to mask my pain.
Suddenly my phone rings, breaking the silence. I glanced at my screen and saw Cynthia’s name flashing on the screen.
Cynthia, my best friend, has been a part of me ever since knowing her from the university.
I literally share everything with her. Every of my sorrow, pain and joy.
But seeing her call come in at this time, I hesitated.
I have always been reluctant about sharing my marital issues with anyone, even with my closest friend.
Though, I recently told her about how Alexander has been acting up, but I still find it difficult opening up entirely.
I tilted my head, Thinking. “What would Cynthia think of me? What would she say? What will she think of Alexander?”
Again my phone rings for the second time.
Tried hesitating, but another part of me, desperately in need for some relief and understanding, made a quick think “maybe talking to Cynthia about it all would lighten the heavy burden I carry.” Just maybe.
With a deep breath, I pick up the call. “Hey, Cynthia.” My voice seeming low, like one trying to hide something.
“Hey, Bella! As she fondly calls me. How are you?
You don’t sound like you. Is everything alright?”
Cynthia’s cheerful voice brought a bittersweet smile to my face.
I hesitated for a moment, words catching in my throat.
But then, like a dam breaking, I poured it all out, letting the tears I have been holding back flow freely.
“Oh Bella, that’s a lot, it’s heartbreaking,” she said, her tone laced with concern, but there’s an edge there.
Keeping a moment of silence, Cynthia continued, her voice taking on a slightly different note. “Why not step out for some fresh air? It will help clear your mind, you know.”
With my hands trembling, I quickly wiped my tears, trying to steady my thoughts and keep my emotions in check.
“I guess that might help.” I replied giving Cynthia’s suggestion a thought.
“Great!” Cynthia said with an overwhelming voice. “Why don’t you come over to the hotel? It’s lovely here, you will like the view. And we can get to talk more in person too. It’s just exactly what you need right now.”
I hesitated, feeling a strange mix of comfort and unease. “Are you sure? I don’t want to inconvenience.”
“Absolutely,” Cynthia insisted. “I’m here for you, Bella. We’ll take it up from there once we meet. It’s going to do you good to get out and have a change of scenery.”
With a deep sigh, I replied “alright, I’ll be there soon.” Feeling a flicker of hope and an excuse to relieve myself from some thoughts.
“Perfect,” Cynthia replied, giving a sly chuckle. “See you soon, Bella.”
Cynthia’s POVI pace my room, barefoot against the cold marble floor. It’s been three days now. Three long, dragging days, and even though Alexander hasn’t said a word about the divorce he threw at me like a dagger, I still find myself restless. On edge.His silence—it speaks louder than any outburst could. There’s something in it. Something simmering beneath, and I don’t like it.What is he thinking?What is he up to?Even with my trail on him, I’ve gotten nothing useful. Just reports of him going to the office… spending time with Collins. That’s it.Could he be plotting something with Collins? I scoff under my breath. No way. He can’t still be dreaming about going through with that divorce. I told him what he stands to lose. Made it very clear. He got the message. I made damn sure of that.Thank goodness I was able to prove to him years ago that Sophia was his. That forged DNA result saved everything. He doesn’t know the truth. No one does. And it’s going to stay that way. Forever.
Collins’ POVI wake to an unfamiliar stillness.The space beside me is cold. Empty. No rustle of breath, no soft weight beneath the covers. My arm stretches out, instinctively reaching for her, but there’s nothing—just the quiet whisper of sheets, already cooled from her absence. I sit up slowly, blinking at the faint morning light filtering through the blinds.And then I see it.A single folded piece of paper resting by the lamp on the nightstand. White. Deliberate. Like a farewell. I frown and reach for it, the edge slightly crumpled as though she hesitated before placing it down.My fingers tremble slightly as I unfold it.Her handwriting hits me first—sharp, clean strokes that carry more weight than they should. Then the words begin to blur into meaning:“I know this might come off another way, but I don’t want you to carry the burden of what happened last night… or ever feel responsible for it. It was all a mistake, and it shouldn’t have happened. So just forget about the night…
Aria’s POVI take a sip of my drink, the cool liquid settling into the pit of my stomach like a quiet storm. My fingers curl slightly as I set the glass down on the table, the soft clink sounding louder than I expect in the quiet. “I’m sorry I had to call you out here tonight,” I say, turning toward Collins.He looks… oddly pleased, like someone who’s been waiting for this moment longer than he’s willing to admit. For someone given a last-minute call, he seems anything but inconvenienced. There’s a relaxed ease in the way he leans back, that familiar glimmer in his eyes that says I’m exactly where I want to be.He shakes his head almost instantly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “No, it’s nothing, Aria. In fact, I’m glad you called.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I needed to be out anyway. Been so caught up with work lately, I forgot what the outside world looked like.”I watch him for a beat—really watch him—then sniff quietly and return my gaze to the drink in front of me, th
Isabel’s POVI catch the hesitation in Alexander’s eyes as I run out of the room, and for a moment, I don’t know what to feel.Should I feel bad?Should I wait and hope he chooses me?But one thing is painfully clear—I can’t stand to see him like that. Torn. Stuck.I know what it feels like to be caught between two impossible choices, especially when it comes to your child. As a parent, the thought of being separated from your kid… it’s unbearable.And I won’t be the reason he carries that burden. I won’t build hope on something that requires him to hurt his own child.That’s not love—it’s cruelty.No matter how broken I feel inside, I won’t be the one to make him choose.I dash out of the building, my heels hitting the pavement harder than I intend.My chest tightens with every step.The air outside is cool, but it does nothing to ease the heat building behind my eyes.Just as I approach the car, Christine rushes toward me, her brows furrowed in concern.“Ma’am? Are you okay?” she as
Alexander’s POVShe walks away slowly, but her words linger, haunting me.“I never cheated.”The sentence loops in my head like a cursed line from a film I can’t stop watching. My chest tightens. Confusion swirls inside me—doubt, denial, anger. What the hell is she trying to do? Pretend like I have no proof? Is she hoping I’ve let it go?But the photo…Yes, the photo.The image slams into my mind like a wrecking ball. The rage it stirs in me sets my legs in motion before I can think. I’m already moving, already running after her. My heart pounds harder with each step as my hand reaches out and catches her arm.She jerks slightly, startled, turning to face me.Just for a second—just a breath—our eyes lock. Something about the way she looks at me… it shakes me. Then, just like that, she yanks her arm out of my grip.“I’m really not in the mood right now to continue talking to you,” she says, voice cold. “So please—”“No,” I cut her off, breathing hard. “We have to talk. I can’t hold thi
Isabel’s POVNavarro stares at me as though he’s seen a ghost—his mouth parts slightly, voice uneven, fingers twitching like he doesn’t know what to do with them.“You’re… you’re Miss C?” he stammers, eyes blinking rapidly as the weight of realization settles.I remain seated, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, arms folded in effortless poise, and a soft, knowing smile plays on my lips. My gaze never wavers from Navarro—sharp, assessing. Like a predator watching its prey struggle to make sense of the danger it’s in, right before it’s devoured. I offer a gentle nod, slow and deliberate, like a final verdict.His eyes flick nervously between me, my lawyer Robert, my business rep Michael, and Christine—each of them calm, composed, unmoved by the tension brewing around us. He fidgets again, rubbing his thumb over the edge of his finger as though trying to ground himself.Of course, they never saw it coming. No one ever connected the dots. “Miss C”—the shortened version of Claire, t
Cynthia’s POVThe paper is still folded.It lies on the table in front of me, untouched, unopened — exactly as I left it hours ago. My fingers had grazed it, curled around the edges with glee… but I never unfolded it. I didn’t need to. Not then.Because in my mind, I already knew.I was so sure.I paced the room, a twisted sort of joy rushing through me, playing out every possible scenario of Isabel’s downfall. Her face when she finds out. The silence. The collapse of that perfect little world she’d rebuilt.I imagined it all — built an empire of vengeance in my head before even reading the truth.But now… now the silence feels heavier.My chest tightens as I sit before the paper again.Why haven’t I read it?Why am I suddenly afraid?I reach for it. My fingers tremble — just slightly. It’s ridiculous. I should be savoring this moment. This is what I wanted.And yet…A breath catches in my throat as I finally unfold the results.My eyes scan the page—And then everything stills.Silen
Alexander’s POVThe cold hum of fluorescent lights buzzes overhead as I sit in the visiting room, my fingers laced tightly together on the table, tension knotted in every joint. The chill of this place—the walls, the silence, the smell of metal and regret—crawls into my skin. I’ve never visited anyone in prison before. I never thought I’d have to visit my own mother like this.She sits on the other side of the thick glass, her posture regal despite the orange jumpsuit hanging off her like a loose secret. Her eyes lift slowly to meet mine, sharp as ever. But there’s something in them… something buried deep.“You’re finally here to see your mother,” she says, her voice brittle with mock amusement. “But with that look on your face, I bet you’re happy I’m gone. At least now, there’ll be no one to get in your way, no one to get on your shoes again.”She scoffs.But I see through it.The words don’t land with truth. They’re laced with a bitterness that feels rehearsed, a defense mechanism.
Isabel’s POVI freeze.Grace does too.We both turn sharply toward the bed, hearts caught in our throats.Roy’s fingers twitch again—barely, but I see it. I’m not imagining it.Before either of us can say a word, the door swings open. The doctor steps in, clipboard in hand, eyes calm but alert.“I saw something,” Grace says quickly, her voice trembling. “He moved. Just now. His fingers.”The doctor strides over, doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. He checks the monitors, then lifts Roy’s wrist gently, watching for a response.A beat. Two.Then he nods, looking between us. “It’s slight,” he says, “but it’s something.”My pulse thunders. “What does that mean?”“He’s not fully conscious,” the doctor explains, “but this kind of response usually points to neurological activity. Sometimes, patients begin reacting to familiar voices or emotional stimuli. It means he’s hearing you… at some level. And that’s a good sign.”Grace lets out a shaky breath, a hand flying to her chest like she’s j