Reborn: The Hockey Queen's Revenge

ISABELLA~

I heaved a sigh of relief when I finally climbed the last of the front steps, setting the large bag of groceries down beside me. Leaning my forehead on the door, I struggled to catch my breath.

'You see, Isabella? This is what happens when you push yourself too hard.'

I could hear the voice of my husband Phillip at the back of my mind, scolding me gently. He was always telling me to take it easy, not to work too hard these days, especially since it could hurt our baby. The thought had me caressing my bulging stomach, whispering apologies to my unborn child. Unfortunately, I didn't know how to take it easy. A lifetime of professional hockey can do that to a person.

Still, I regretted nothing.

It was the anniversary of our marriage, and I wanted to do something special for Phillip. He has been so supportive. He had me quit my job midway into the second trimester, and has been keeping me pampered since then. So if a little exhaustion was the price I had to pay to be the one making him feel special for once, then so be it.

There was a smile on my face as I unlocked the door and walked into the apartment. I couldn't stop imagining his reaction when he came home. I planned to make all his favorite dishes. Not only that, but I also got him the latest hockey gear, which would be shipped here sometime before he returned. Sure, it cost my savings, but what did it matter? It was worth it.

As I headed to the kitchen, I found myself remembering how nobody thought our marriage would last. Phillip and I had dated for a while, back when we were teammates, and he had hooked up with so many women behind my back.

At some point, the whole thing looked like it was doomed, and yet here we were against all odds. A whole year, and every single day was a dream come true.

A sudden sound interrupted my thoughts. I looked up from where I was putting away the groceries, wondering if I imagined it.

It sounded like… something banging into a wall.

I was still deciding whether to ignore it when it came again, louder this time. It seemed to be coming from somewhere down the hallway. I hesitated, fear flashing through my mind. I was the only one at home… right? I had to be.

Phillip wasn't home yet, and we didn't have any staff. If there was someone else here…

My heart was starting to pound. I looked around desperately before picking up a carpet sweeper and tiptoeing slowly in the direction of the noise. As I got closer to the master bedroom, I began to hear other sounds. The bedframe squeaking, as if someone was shaking it. Then the sound from earlier… I realized that it was the headboard hitting the wall. Someone was in our bedroom.

Doing what?

Pushing furniture around or something?

Were we getting robbed??

I was about to retreat and call the police when I heard it. A low, throaty moan.

Heat rushed to my face as it dawned on me what such a sound meant. I was still trying to wrap my head around it when it was followed by a masculine groan.

That was when I froze.

My blood turned to ice, and my hands began to shake. That voice. I knew that voice. It was unmistakably Phillip's.

But what was he doing here?

He's supposed to still be at hockey practice.

I couldn't stop my feet from carrying me forward until I was standing in the doorway. They hadn't even bothered to shut the door. I stood there, gaping like a moron, while some woman straddled Phillip in our bed, his knuckles white where he was gripping her freckled hips as she rode him. Neither of them noticed my presence. I wanted to run forward, to pull her off him and throw whatever I could get my hands on at two of them. But my legs wouldn't cooperate. I couldn't move.

Then the woman turned her head, and I saw a sliver of her face through her mass of strawberry blonde curls. Not a woman at all. A girl, one I knew distantly. Clara Moretti, younger sister to the captain of our former team. Clara Moretti, who just turned eighteen less than a week ago.

Somehow, that was what snapped me out of this spell. I screamed.

Both of them jolted, turning to look at me in shock. Phillip shoved Clara off him immediately, as if that would automatically make him innocent. He turned to me with those same pleading eyes he had used to get out of trouble so many times.

"I know what this looks like," he began. "Isabella—"

"Of course you bloody know what it looks like!" I shouted. "You're cheating on me, Phillip. It's our anniversary! I am carrying our baby, and you are cheating on me with a CHILD!"

Phillip winced.

"She's eighteen," he protested, as if that was the most important thing here.

"I'm eighteen," Clara piped up, parroting him.

I barely even heard her. I had eyes only for Phillip, this cheating dog I had been calling my husband. I tried to appear stoic, but there were tears rolling down my cheeks. I settled for stabbing him with my eyes.

"All this time, I thought you'd changed," I said. "But pigs never really get clean, do they? I am sick of you, Phillip. I am sick of you!" I took a deep breath, scrubbing my sleeves over my face, and then said coldly, "Why don't we find out what Isaac Moretti thinks about you sleeping with his kid sister? Scratch that, why don't we find out what everybody thinks? Hmm, Phillip? Your teammates, the hockey federation, the state. I'm sure you'll be safe, anyway. I mean, 'she's eighteen' right?"

The last words were filled with mockery.

Panic filled Phillip's eyes as he watched me turn to leave.

"Isabella, wait," he stammered. "You wouldn't do that— you don't understand— I'd lose everything, Isabella!"

I ignored him and walked out of the room, even as he scrambled to find his trousers so that he could run after me.

That disgusting jerk.

Just because I forgave his affairs so many times, he thinks I'm going to let this slide? Like hell.

I'm going to destroy him for this. I don't care if it's the last thing I do.

I had just reached the stairs when I heard him shout behind me.

"Isabella!"

I kept going.

That was when I felt a shove, right between my shoulder blades. It was so unexpected that I couldn't catch myself in time. I fell, hitting each stair as I rolled down, till I slammed to the floor at the foot of the stairs. Pain ripped through me, more terrible than anything I had ever felt before. Not even the injuries I sustained while playing hockey had hurt this much.

I tried to scream, but only a whimper made it past my throat. My mouth was full of blood. I must have knocked out a few teeth on my way down.

From the corner of my eye, I could see blood pooling out of my head and who knows where else.

'No…' I thought. 'No, this can't be happening…'

What about the baby? Why couldn't I stand up no matter how hard I tried?

My gaze lifted to the stairs, and of course Philip was there. He had the nerve to look at me with guilt in his eyes. I could feel myself slipping out of consciousness.

With the last of my strength, I glared at him with all the hatred in my heart.

'I will ruin you,' I swore as I faded into the darkness. 'Even if I die, I'm going to destroy you.'