Chapter 1

ISABELLA

"Mrs. Blackwood," the nurse said, leaning close to my ear. "She's here. Your daughter is here. She's beautiful and she's healthy. Just breathe."

I was twenty-four years old and I was lying flat on a hospital bed, drenched in sweat, still trembling from the delivery. The room smelled like antiseptic and clean linen. My arms were already open. Ready.

"Bring her to me," I said.

The nurse smiled. She turned toward the corner of the room where my daughter was crying, and the sound of it split something open in my chest that I didn't know existed. I was already in love with her and I hadn't even held her yet.

"Bring her to me," I said again, louder this time.

The two nurses exchanged a look. I didn't understand it then. One of them stepped toward the door and spoke quietly to someone in the hallway. I tried to sit up. Everything hurts.

Then, the door opened.

I expected the nurse and I expected my baby.

But Rane Blackwood, my husband, walked in instead.

He was wearing a dark suit. His tie was straight. He looked the way he always looked, put together, controlled, like nothing in the world cost him anything. Behind him came a man in a grey blazer carrying a leather folder. A lawyer. I knew before I even saw the papers.

"Honey." My voice came out smaller than I wanted it to. "What is this?"

He didn't answer right away. He crossed the room slowly, like he had all the time in the world. He set the leather folder on the tray table beside my bed and opened it. The papers inside were already printed, already marked where I needed to sign.

"You have nothing to give her, Isabella," he said. "You know that. Sign the papers and let her have a real life."

I stared at him. "What are you talking about? She is my daughter."

"She is my daughter too. And I can give her everything." He looked at me then, steady and cold. "You have no money. You have no family. You have nowhere to go. Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

“Rane, I am confused. We are married, what do you mean I have nowhere to go?” I said.

“She doesn’t understand a thing yet,” Rane said with a dangerous smile at the lawyer.

The lawyer did not smile back.

He only adjusted his glasses, flipped open the file in front of him, and slid a document across the table toward me with slow, deliberate care—as if he were placing a blade within reach and waiting to see if I would pick it up.

“Mrs. Blackwood,” he said calmly, “your husband has already filed for dissolution of marriage.”

The words did not land all at once. They scattered. Broke apart in my head like something fragile hitting the ground.

“No,” I said, shaking my head before I could even process it. “No, that’s not possible. We didn’t—Rane, we didn’t talk about this.”

“We’re talking about it now,” he replied.

His voice was smooth. Controlled. Like this was a business negotiation and not the dismantling of my life.

I looked at him, really looked at him, searching for something—anything familiar. The man who had once held my hand like I was something worth keeping.

I found nothing.

“Why?” My voice came out smaller than I intended. “Why are you doing this?”

Rane leaned back in his chair, one arm resting lazily on the armrest, like he had all the time in the world.

“Because this isn’t working,” he said simply. “And dragging it out won’t change that.”

My fingers curled into my palms. “This isn’t working?” I repeated. “We have a child, Rane.”

“Yes,” he said. “And that’s exactly the point.”

Silence fell heavy between us.

The lawyer cleared his throat softly, tapping the edge of the document. “The agreement outlines full custody transfer to Mr. Blackwood, along with a financial settlement—”

“A settlement?” I cut in, a hollow laugh escaping me. “You think you can buy my daughter from me?”

“No,” Rane said quietly.

That was the first time his tone shifted. Just slightly. Just enough to make my chest tighten.

“I’m not buying her,” he continued. “I’m securing her future.”

“My future includes her!” I snapped, the words breaking out of me now. “She stays with me. That’s not negotiable.”

Rane’s gaze hardened.

“I want to hold her first.” My voice broke on the last word, and I hated it—hated how weak I sounded in front of him. “Before we start anything… please.”

No one spoke.

My fingers trembled in my lap.

“Let me hold her,” I whispered, softer now, like if I spoke too loud they would take even that away from me. “Let me smell her… I haven’t even touched her since she came into this world.”

My throat tightened painfully.

“I don’t even know what my own daughter feels like yet.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded at the nurse.

She brought my daughter to me, wrapped in a white blanket, and I held her for exactly four minutes. 

She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life. Small and perfect. Her eyes were closed. She had his jaw and my nose and the softest skin I had ever touched. I pressed my lips to her forehead and breathed her in and I wanted to freeze that moment. 

"Isabella."

Rane's voice pulled me back. I looked up at him.

And then the door opened again.

Mara walked in.

She was wearing a camel coat. Her hair was done. She looked like she was coming from a dinner, not a hospital. She crossed the room without looking at me once and moved straight to Rane's side. She took his hand. Then she lifted herself onto her toes and kissed his cheek, slow and comfortable.

She whispered something to him. He nodded.

I couldn't speak.

Mara was my best friend. My best friend since we were eighteen years old.She had been my maid of honour at this man's wedding. 

I looked at their linked hands. The way his thumb moved across her knuckles, like it’s been a hundred times before.

I understood.

"How long," I said. It wasn't even a question. My voice was flat.

Neither of them answered.

"How long, Mara."

She finally looked at me. Her expression didn't break. It didn't even flicker. "Sign the papers, Izzy. And let’s get it over with."

That was all she said.

I looked down at my daughter's face. She was still sleeping, completely unaware that her whole world was being decided around her. I thought about fighting. I thought about throwing the pen across the room and making them drag me out of there.

But then I thought about losing. I thought about what losing looked like with no money, no family, no lawyer, and a man like Rane Blackwood standing across from me. I thought about my daughter growing up thinking her mother left her. That was worse than anything.

If I walked away now, I told myself, I could come back stronger.

I made myself believe it.

“I’ll sign.”

The lawyer adjusted his glasses. “Mrs. Blackwood, you should read through it one more time.”

“I said I’ll sign.”

My voice didn’t shake. I made sure of that.

The nurse hovered beside me, my daughter still warm against my chest. “You don’t have to rush this,” she said softly.

“I’m not rushing.”

I shifted my baby slightly, pressing my lips to her forehead for just a second before pulling back. No tears. Not here. Not in front of them.

“Where do I sign?” I asked.

The lawyer hesitated, then pointed. “Here. And here.”

The pen felt heavier than it should have. I signed my name once. Twice.

The scratch of ink against paper sounded louder than anything else in the room.

“It’s done,” the lawyer said quietly.

“Good.”

I handed the papers back without looking at him.

The nurse stepped closer, her voice gentler now. “I need to take her.”

My arms tightened for half a second before I forced them to loosen.

“Okay,” I said.

She carefully lifted my daughter from me. The warmth left instantly. I ignored it.

“Do you… want a moment?” she asked.

“No.”

I kept my eyes forward.

Behind the nurse, I heard him move. Leather shoes against tile, calm and certain, the sound of a man who had already decided this room was behind him.

He was leaving.

"Rane."

My voice cut through the room before I could stop it. He paused. Slowly, he turned.

For the first time since I had signed those papers, I looked at him. I really looked at him, and the tears came.

"I hope you remember today," I said. My voice was unsteady, but loud enough. "I want you to remember every second of it."

Mara let out a soft, amused breath behind him. When I glanced at her, she was smiling. I looked back at Rane.

"There is no one more dangerous," I said, my fingers curling into the thin hospital sheet, "than a mother whose child was taken from her minutes after labor."

Silence sat between us. Then Rane's lips curved slowly, like I had just told him a joke he had heard before and found boring.

"You can't do shit," he said, with confidence. He took a single step closer, just enough for his shadow to fall across the bed. "You are powerless. And I — Rane Blackwood — always win."

Mara's smile widened slightly, her eyes moving over me the way you look at something you've already thrown away.

Something inside me went still. I held his gaze and I memorized it. The arrogance, the certainty. The mistake he didn't know he was making.

"Always?" I asked quietly.

He didn't answer. He didn't think he needed to. He turned like the conversation was already over, like I was already over, and Mara followed without a word. The door opened. Closed. And just like that, they were gone.

The nurse shifted beside me, her voice careful and gentle. "You shouldn't stress yourself right now. Your body just went through—"

"I'm not stressed," I said.

She hesitated. She didn't argue, but she watched me for a second longer than she should have.

Because the tears on my face didn't match what was happening inside me anymore. It wasn't grief sitting in my chest, It was pain. 

I wiped my face slowly with the back of my hand.

"Ma'am?" the nurse said. "Are you sure you don't want a moment to yourself?"

I looked at the door. At the space they had just walked through. At the version of my life they thought they had taken from me when they walked out of it.

"No," I said. My voice didn't shake this time. "I don't need a moment."

I swung my legs off the bed. The nurse stepped forward immediately, hands out, alarm moving across her face.

"You just gave birth — you need to rest. You can't just—"

"I've rested enough."

"That's not safe," she said firmly.

I looked at her, the same way I had just looked at him. Long enough that she stopped talking.

"What's not safe," I said quietly, "is what happens next. I am leaving."