Chapter 2

Isolde had returned only to collect her belongings. The moment she stepped through the door, a shrill laugh cut through the air.

The man who had always prided himself on composure was sitting beside Sandra, telling pitiful jokes just to make her smile.

"Achoo!" Sandra let out a dainty sneeze.

"Are you cold?" Alan's expression tensed. He slipped off his tailored jacket and draped it gently over her shoulders.

Sandra looked up at him. Their eyes met, close enough that their noses nearly brushed. For a heartbeat, the air froze, thick with unspoken tension and something far too familiar.

From the entrance, Isolde let out a humorless half-smile. How blind she had been, mistaking Alan's tenderness toward Sandra as simple brotherly duty after his brother's death. In truth, their entanglement had begun long before that.

"Isolde?" Sandra turned, startled, her eyes wide like a frightened rabbit's.

Guilt and panic flashed across her face. "Please don't misunderstand. Alan was only worried I might catch a cold…"

'Worried?' Isolde almost laughed. In a heated house, she sneezed once, and he panicked. Yet last night, when she nearly froze outside in a thin shirt, he hadn't even shown himself.

'Forget it. None of this matters anymore,' Isolde thought.

She didn't spare the nauseating pair another glance. Without a word, she crossed the living room and went upstairs.

'Three years together, and everything fits into a single suitcase,' she mused.

The gifts Alan had given her—diamond necklaces for anniversaries, limited-edition handbags for birthdays, preserved roses for Valentine's Day, even the letters and trinkets from his courtship—went straight into the trash.

The man himself was tainted. Why would she keep anything that would only disgust her?

Isolde slipped the marriage certificate into the suitcase's side compartment and zipped it shut.

As she started to stand, a wave of dizziness struck her. She staggered and gripped the handle to steady herself.

'So I'm really sick…' The snowstorm last night had taken its toll. She would have to stop by the hospital before heading to Bruce's place.

Forcing herself upright despite the spinning in her head, Isolde grabbed the suitcase and moved toward the door. But Alan was there, tall and unyielding, blocking her path.

His gaze fell on the suitcase, and his expression darkened. "I thought you'd come to your senses after a night to cool off."

She almost laughed out loud. As if one night could erase years of humiliation and pain. As if she were some obedient pet, ready to wag her tail and resume the role of dutiful "Mrs. Princeton."

"You're right," Isolde said coolly. "I have come to my senses. A filthy man is no different from a sausage dropped in a gutter. It's best to throw it away and move on. Congratulations, Alan. May you and your sister-in-law live happily ever after, and crank out enough brats to fill your mansion."

"Isolde!" Alan's face reddened with fury. "I told you Sandra's pregnancy is about responsibility. It's for the family. There's nothing improper between us."

He drew a slow breath and said solemnly, "It was done through IVF."

As if that made any difference.

Isolde gave a sharp, cutting laugh. "Oh? So when the child is born, will they call you Uncle or Father?"

"Do you have to be so cruel? I've explained everything. What else do you want me to do?"

"Explain?" Her voice dripped with scorn. "Will your explanation make the child disappear? Turn back time? Since when does saying sorry mean I have to forgive you?"

She shoved past him and dragged her suitcase behind her. "The moment you decided to have a child with your sister-in-law, we were finished."

"Finished?" Alan caught her and pulled her back, his arm locking tight around her waist. "Yell, curse, throw things if you want, but don't ever say it's over. Isolde Vancrest, remember this: you'll always be my wife."

Wife?

Isolde laughed sharply. "Really? Do we even have a marriage certificate?"

Alan froze. He had forgotten that detail.

Then his expression changed. He chuckled softly, almost amused. "So that's what you want? You want it official? Fine. I can do that."

He took her hand and said in a coaxing, almost gentle voice, "Now that Sandra's pregnant, my mother won't object anymore. We can go down to the courthouse and get married today. But Isolde, once we get the marriage certificate, I expect peace. No more fighting. You'll take care of the house and… Sandra."

Revulsion twisted in her gut. Even now, after everything, he thought a piece of paper could fix this. That she would keep playing caretaker to Sandra and their illegitimate child.

"Wake up, Alan Princeton. I've already married someone else." Her voice was frigid.

"Alan!" Sandra's voice came from the doorway.

She clutched the frame, her face pale with pain, and had one hand over her stomach. "My stomach hurts… Can you take me to the hospital?"

Alan's attention snapped to her instantly. He released Isolde and rushed over to steady Sandra in his arms.

"Don't be afraid," he said softly. "I'll take you right now."

He turned back briefly. "Isolde, we'll talk about getting married after I get back."

Sandra leaned weakly against him. "I-I don't think I can walk, Alan…"

Without hesitation, he scooped her into his arms and carried her downstairs. From over his shoulder, Sandra looked back at Isolde, her eyes gleaming with smug triumph.

Isolde smiled faintly. 'So Sandra isn't even pretending anymore.'

She watched the elevator doors close, then pressed down the ache in her chest, tightened her grip on the suitcase, and walked out.

…

At the hospital, the tests were done. Isolde's fever raged, her body heavy and fading toward unconsciousness.

"Ms. Vancrest, the IV contains a sedative. You might fall asleep, so someone should stay with you. Where's your family?" the nurse said gently.

Family? The word sounded almost foreign.

Isolde's cracked lips twitched. Her trembling fingers unlocked her phone. The screen lit up, revealing a social media post made just minutes ago.

In the photo, Sandra nestled against Alan's shoulder on a hospital bed, her face glowing with satisfaction.

The caption read: [Told him it was just a tiny bit of discomfort, but someone overreacted. He canceled his hundred-person meeting just to stay with me. Sigh… Being cared for too much can be such a burden.]

Even with his face turned away, Isolde knew Alan's silhouette by heart.

Her fingertips went numb. The phone nearly slipped from her hand as her body trembled. She stared at the screen for a long time, until her trembling stopped and the last trace of warmth in her eyes went out.

She turned to the nurse. "Please… could you call a caregiver for me?"