003

Bella Hale

Adrian’s words hung in the cold air of the restroom.

“Look who’s finally back.”

I tried to pull my wrist free. His fingers only tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me he had always been stronger. The contact sent an unwanted jolt up my arm, a spark of recognition my body remembered even if my mind wanted to forget.

“Let go of me,” I said, my voice still rough.

Dominic stepped in on my other side, closing the space until I could feel the heat of him. Elias remained by the wall, but his gaze moved over me slowly, openly, the way it used to years ago when none of us knew how badly things would end.

The small restroom suddenly felt airless.

“You’re shaking,” Dominic said quietly. His eyes dropped to my mouth, then lower, taking in the ruined state of me without shame. “Did Hale finally show you what he is?”

I hated that they could still read me so easily. I hated even more that some buried part of me reacted to their nearness the same way it once had—pulse quickening, skin too aware.

“I said get out.”

Adrian’s thumb brushed the inside of my wrist in a slow, deliberate stroke. The touch was light, almost gentle, and far more dangerous because of it.

“Still giving orders,” he murmured. “Some things haven’t changed.”

I shoved at his chest. He barely moved, but something dark flickered in his eyes.

“Don’t touch me.”

“You’re in no position to decide that right now.” His voice dropped lower. “Especially not after the way you left.”

The past rose between us like smoke. The night I had come to them desperate. The help they had given without hesitation. The way things had burned too hot, too fast—until I vanished without a word and married Marcus instead.

Elias pushed off the wall and came closer, completing the circle.

“We should still be furious with you,” he said, almost thoughtfully.

His fingers lifted, hovering near my cheek without quite touching.

“We are furious. But seeing you like this…” His gaze lingered on the tear tracks I hadn’t fully wiped away. “It makes it harder to remember why we were supposed to stay away.”

Heat crawled up my neck.

Outwardly I kept my expression sharp, indignant. Inside, unwanted memories stirred—moments I had buried beneath five years of careful denial.

I jerked my head away from Elias’s near-touch.

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re still a terrible liar,” he replied softly.

Dominic’s hand settled on the counter beside my hip, caging me further. He leaned in just enough that his breath brushed my temple.

“You ran to him,” he said, his voice flat with old resentment. “After everything. You chose that parasite over us. We’ve watched him parade you around for years, knowing exactly what he was doing to everything your parents built.”

His eyes met mine, intense and unyielding.

“Do you have any idea how many times we considered taking you back anyway?”

My breath stuttered.

“I didn’t belong to you,” I managed.

Adrian’s laugh was quiet and without humor.

“No?”

He reached up and caught a damp strand of hair, tucking it behind my ear with deliberate care. His fingers lingered against the side of my neck, feeling the frantic beat of my pulse.

“Your body always disagreed.”

I shoved his hand away harder than necessary.

“Stop it.”

None of them stepped back.

The air between us felt charged, thick with everything left unsaid and unfinished. I could see it in the way Adrian’s gaze kept dropping to my mouth, in the tight line of Dominic’s jaw, and in the restless way Elias watched every small reaction I tried to hide.

They hated Marcus. That much was clear.

But the look in their eyes wasn’t only about hatred for him. It was about me—about the fact that I was standing in front of them again, broken open, and some part of them still wanted to reclaim what they believed they had lost.

I pushed between them before the tension could tighten any further. My shoulder brushed Adrian’s chest. The brief contact sent another unwelcome spark through me.

I didn’t stop.

I walked straight to the door on unsteady legs, my heart slamming too hard against my ribs.

Just as my fingers closed around the handle, Adrian spoke again.

“Bella.”

I didn’t turn.

“This isn’t over.”

His voice was low, certain, threaded with something dark and proprietary.

“You walked away once. You won’t get the chance to do it again.”

I opened the door and stepped out, their stares burning into my back long after the restroom door swung shut.

I only made it three steps down the hallway.

“Hello, Mrs. Hale.”

The voice stopped me cold.

Claire stood a few feet away, perfectly composed in a sleek black dress, a polite smile already in place. She looked exactly as she had in that dressing room—calm, satisfied, untouched by guilt.

Hearing her call me Mrs. Hale sent a sharp, ugly heat through my chest.

I turned slowly.

“Claire.”

Her smile widened just a little.

“I was looking for Marcus. Have you seen him? He stepped away for a moment, and I thought he might have come this way.”

The casual way she said his name made my fingers curl.

“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” I replied, keeping my voice even. “He always does.”

Claire tilted her head, studying me with false concern.

“You look a little pale. Is everything all right? Anniversary nights can be overwhelming… especially when you’ve been married as long as you two have.”

I almost laughed.

The sound would have been ugly.

“I’m fine.”

“Of course you are.”

She took a small step closer, lowering her voice as if we were sharing something private.

“It’s just that… well, these things can be complicated, can’t they? Being the wife. Watching from the outside. Sometimes I wonder how women in your position manage to keep smiling.”

My pulse thudded hard in my throat.

She continued, still wearing that soft, almost sympathetic expression.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about loyalty lately. About what it means to stay with someone even when things get… messy.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, Mrs. Hale…”

Her eyes flicked over my face.

“…do you have any advice for a woman who’s involved with a married man? It can be so confusing knowing where you stand.”

The hallway suddenly felt too narrow.

I stared at her.

She knew.

Of course she knew I had heard them.

This wasn’t a coincidence.

This was deliberate.

“I’m the wrong person to ask,” I said quietly.

Claire’s smile didn’t fade.

“Oh, I don’t know. You seem like someone who understands patience. Looking the other way. Pretending everything is perfect while the rest of the world moves on without you.”

Something inside me snapped tight.

I stepped past her before I could do something I would regret in front of witnesses. My shoulder nearly brushed hers.

“Excuse me.”

I didn’t wait for her reply.

I walked straight past the entrance to the ballroom, past the golden lights and the laughing guests still celebrating a lie, and pushed through the service door at the end of the corridor.

The cool night air hit my face the moment I stepped outside.

I kept walking until the music and voices faded behind me.

Only then did I stop on the quiet side street, one hand pressed to my stomach, the other trembling at my side.