Le chemin de l'amour

"You're mine, spread your legs and take it!"

Hot, so hot.

Isabella lay on the bed, her whole body feeling like it was burning.

The man's icy lips pressed against her, ruthlessly invading her body. Isabella reached out, grabbing onto the man's body, craving more.

"Please, please give me more," Isabella moaned, the man atop her growing more excited. He forcefully penetrated Isabella, the beast-like, heavy sound echoing throughout the room, the light above Isabella's head violently swaying in her vision, leaving her feeling dizzy.

"James, please," Isabella whimpered softly, causing the man atop her to pause slightly, seemingly enraged by the mention of the name.

"James? Is he your man?" The man's icy lips spat out the name, his grip tightening slightly around Isabella's neck, sending a wave of suffocation through her.

In the next moment, she felt a fierce collision beneath her, her tear-filled eyes meeting the blazing gaze of the man above her.

Was she mistaken? She seemed to see the man's pupils change like those of a wild beast.

"You're mine, and I'll keep fucking you until you forget about him!"

With even greater force, the man atop her plunged her into the next storm.

In the dim light, Isabella couldn't make out the man's features, only feeling his ferocity like that of a wild beast, as if he wanted to devour her.

......

The night enveloped the city.

In the NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital.

Isabella lay on the operating table, her face drained of color and her body drenched in sweat. Despite the searing pain, she bore it calmly, refusing to voice a single complaint.

"Harder! We can see the baby's head," shouted the midwife, with her voice echoing in her ears.

Isabella's hand clung tightly to the bed rail. After a day and a night of pain, she could hardly gather any strength.

"The baby seems stuck, it might be a dystocia. Should we notify Bet—, Mr. Ryan, for their safety?"

The midwife and the head nurse exchanged a glance.

"No, please...save the baby," Isabella's sweat-soaked hand suddenly gripped the doctor. Her voice was filled with agony.

The doctor was moved and firmly held her hand, saying, "Let's try again. Listen to my instructions. You need to take a deep breath and with force..."

With the loud cry of a newborn, everyone in the delivery room breathed a sigh of relief.

The head nurse took the baby to clean, and the midwife left the delivery room, dialing a number on her phone.

"Beta Ryan..."

On the other end, Ryan answered the call and knocked on the intricately carved wooden door in front of him.

"Come in," a mature and deep voice was heard inside.

Ryan opened the door open and found a tall man standing by the large French windows. His suit buttons were undone, revealing a crisp shirt underneath. A cigarette burned quietly between his left hand's middle and ring fingers.

"Is there anything you need?" he raised an eyebrow, exuding an intimidating aura.

"Alpha, the nurse in the hospital just called. That human, Isabella, has given birth to a baby boy, six pounds two ounces. Both mother and child are safe," Ryan immediately replied.

"Alright, noted," Alpha Andrew replied, listening without a hint of emotion on his cold face.

Ryan felt like he should say "congratulations." Still, before he could speak, Andrew asked, "What time does the video conference with the UK branch start?"

Ryan was taken aback. He was struggling to keep up with the conversation. He raised his wrist and checked his watch, then cautiously answered, "In half an hour, Alpha."

"Have Nathan prepared for it and handed to the conference room?" Andrew finished his sentence, put out his cigarette, and walked out the door.

The video conference continued until the early hours of the next day.

A secretary entered the conference room, holding two cups of strong coffee.

"Aren't you going to the hospital?" Beta Ryan, who had been holding back all night, finally asked.

Sitting across from him, Andrew elegantly sipped coffee. After a brief hesitation, he instructed, "Prepare the car."

Hospital room.

The first rays of morning sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm feeling on Isabella's body.

Isabella opened her tired eyes and looked at her sleeping child beside her. Tears streamed uncontrollably down her face.

At nineteen, while other girls her age were still in their parents' arms, she had become a mother.

Even though the child's father was unknown, and she had almost collapsed when she first found out she was pregnant, over the past nine months, the child had grown inside her, becoming an irreplaceable part of her life.

Perhaps that's what motherhood is. So when the doctor mentioned that she might have a difficult birth, she almost offered her own life in exchange for the hope of the child's survival.

Isabella came back from her senses as soon as she heard someone knocking, echoing around. She quickly wiped away the tears on her cheek with the back of her hand.

In a hoarse voice, she said, "Please come in."

She thought it was a nurse coming to change the IV, but as the door opened, a handsome young man she didn't recognize walked in.

"Have you come to the wrong room?" Isabella asked, quite not sure.

His demeanor was cold, and the way he looked at her made her feel like he was looking down on her.

"Andrew Turner, your child's father," he introduced himself briefly and directly.

Although his voice was clear and cold, it felt like a thunderclap to Isabella, making her dizzy.

Although she was initially unsure, his eyes bore such a striking resemblance to the man from that evening, and they even shared the same scent of perfume...

Her already pale face turned even whiter, and she struggled to sit up in bed, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him, losing control.

"Rapist, how dare you show up here? Aren't you afraid I'll take you to the police station?!" Isabella angrily growled.

Compared to her hysteria, Andrew casually raised his arm to block the pillow she threw at him, and then, with long strides, he walked to the bed.

Next to the bed was a baby sleeping in swaddling clothes. A wrinkled, rosy face, like a little monkey.

Isabella didn't know what he wanted to do, but she reached out to protect the child in her arms.

"Why haven't you called the police yet?" Andrew questioned, his gaze moving away from the child and returning to her. His eyes were deep and calm.

Isabella clenched her lips tightly, trembling, unable to find her words out of anger.

She couldn't call the police because she had no evidence to prove he had raped her.

That night, she had entered his room on her own, mistaking him for her fiancé, and she hadn't resisted at all.

"What do you want?" Isabella asked hoarsely, her earlier defiance gone.

"If you calm down, we can talk," he said.

She stared at him, wondering what there was to talk about with a rapist.

"I will give you two choices. You will marry me, or give me custody of the child,” he said with his tone as if it wasn't a big deal, and he seemed used to giving orders.

She wanted nothing more than to tear off his handsome face. "You can't..."

"No need to rush to answer. Think about it, and you can call me," he interrupted her, his expression aloof, as he placed a business card with his name on the bedside table.

The door opened and closed, and he left without saying anything.

The baby in the swaddling clothes slept soundly, as if he had no connection to the world even if it collapsed.

Isabella closed her eyes in exhaustion, feeling wronged, and her eyes, still bitter, seemed to well up with tears again.

Memories from a year ago flooded her mind once again.

On her eighteenth birthday, she and her fiancé James Brown had agreed to give their first time to each other.

Her half-sister Emily, however, went into James's bed in her place after getting her drunk.

Meanwhile, in another dark room, she had sex with a stranger.

Isabella had always thought the man who had been intimate with her all night was James. It wasn't until the next morning, when she woke up naked in her bed, alone in the room, that she realized something had happened.

She had no idea what had transpired, and she called James' name like a fool.

Then, her stepmother Charlotte burst into the room, hugging her and crying loudly, saying, "Isabella, my poor child, how could something like this happen? Auntie has already reported it to the police. That rascal who raped you will not escape justice..."

With Charlotte's outburst, the story of her sleeping with the wrong person became widely known.

Her father, David, without considering the truth, angrily slapped her face.

A knock on the door brought Isabella back to reality from her memories.

She subconsciously thought it was still Andrew, so she got out of bed, opened the door in frustration, and growled, "What do you want now!"

"You're quite fiery!"