CHAPTER TWO

|| Isabella's POV ||

Everything happened so fast after that.

I felt the warm wetness soaking through my nightgown, pooling on the marble floor beneath me. My water had broken.

The commotion attracted Mrs. Rivera, who came running, her face pale with panic when she saw me doubled over, gripping the window ledge.

"Mrs. Styles! Oh God, we need to get you to the hospital. Now!"

She called for help, and suddenly the house was alive with movement. Hands lifting me, voices shouting instructions, the blur of being half-carried, half-dragged to the car.

Everything after that was fragments.

The car ride—every bump in the road sending fresh waves of agony through me. The bright lights of the emergency room. Voices shouting medical terms I couldn't process. Hands lifting me, moving me onto a gurney.

And through it all, the blood.

So much blood that even through my pain, I felt the cold grip of fear.

"She's hemorrhaging—"

"BP dropping—"

"Get Dr. Morrison, now!"

"My baby," I gasped, my voice barely a whisper. "Please, save my baby."

Someone squeezed my hand. Mrs. Rivera's face swam above me, tears streaming down her weathered cheeks. "You're going to be fine, dear. Both of you. Just hold on."

I wanted to tell her to keep calling Aaron. To make him understand that his child was coming into this world, that we needed him, that I needed—

But the pain swallowed everything else, and I let the darkness take me under.

---

When I woke up again, the first thing I did upon opening my eyes was look for my child.

"Where—" My voice came out hoarse and weak. "Where's my baby?"

"Mrs. Styles." A nurse appeared at my side, her smile gentle and warm. "It's okay, don't try to move yet. You lost a lot of blood, but you're going to be fine." She paused, her smile widening. "And your daughter is perfect."

Daughter.

The word bloomed in my chest, overwhelming everything else. I had a daughter.

"Please," I whispered. "I need to see her. Please."

The nurse nodded. "Of course. Let me get her for you."

She disappeared and returned moments later, carrying a small bundle wrapped in pink. And then—oh, then she placed her in my arms, and the world stopped.

She was so tiny. Perfect rosebud mouth, wisps of dark hair, little fists curled against her cheeks. As if she could sense me, she opened her eyes—deep blue, unfocused but searching—and made a small sound, barely a sigh.

My daughter.

The tiny child nestled peacefully in my arms, and I felt my heart melt completely.

Tears spilled down my cheeks as I cradled her closer, this impossible miracle. Every moment of pain, every humiliation, every cold shoulder and cruel word—the arrival of my child made me realize that all the suffering I'd endured before was nothing.

Nothing compared to this. To her.

She was here. She was real. She was mine.

"I'll protect you," I whispered against her soft hair, my voice thick with tears. "I promise. You'll never feel unwanted. Never."

I traced her tiny features with one finger, marveling at the impossibility of her. How could something so beautiful, so perfect, exist in my broken world?

Just then, the door to the ward opened.

I looked up, hope flaring stupidly in my chest. Maybe Aaron had finally come. Maybe he'd—

But it wasn't Aaron.

Victoria walked in, her silver hair perfectly styled, her expression cold and assessing. And beside her was another woman.

Anastasia Cole. The woman who was supposed to marry Aaron.

My arms instinctively tightened around my daughter.

Victoria's gaze swept over me dismissively before landing on the baby in my arms. She stepped closer, peering down at my daughter with something that looked almost like distaste.

"A girl," Victoria said, her tone flat. "Well, that's unfortunate."

My blood ran cold.

"Isabella," Victoria continued, her voice sharp and businesslike, "we need to discuss the child's future."

"Her name is Sophie," I said, my voice shaking but defiant. "And there's nothing to discuss."

Victoria's lips curved into a cold smile. "On the contrary, there's quite a bit to discuss. You're a woman with no family background, no breeding, no connections. A gold digger who trapped my son into this marriage."

Each word was a precisely aimed dart.

"A woman like you," Victoria continued, "is not qualified to raise a Styles family child. The girl deserves better. She deserves to be raised by someone appropriate."

She gestured to Anastasia, who stepped forward with a sickeningly sweet smile.

"I would be more than happy to take on that responsibility," Anastasia said, her voice dripping with false compassion. "I would definitely raise this child as my own. I'd educate her properly, make sure she grows up with the right values and manners."

She paused, her eyes meeting mine.

"So she wouldn't grow up to be a scheming woman like you."

Anastasia reached out toward my daughter, her hands extended as if to take her from my arms, her tone as if she were bestowing some great favor upon me.

"No!" The word burst from me, loud and fierce.

Although I was still very weak after giving birth, my body aching and exhausted, maternal love gave me tremendous strength.

I reached out and pulled Sophie away from Anastasia's grasping hands, holding her tightly against my chest, shielding her with my body.

"This is my daughter," I said, my voice shaking but resolute. "And no one is going to take her away from me. No one."

Victoria's expression hardened. She reached into her designer handbag and pulled out a document, placing it on the bed beside me.

"Don't be foolish, Isabella," Victoria said, her tone turning threatening. "You'll have a good life if you cooperate. Aaron will continue supporting the Stone Corporation. Your family will be taken care of. You'll receive a generous settlement."

She leaned closer, her eyes cold as ice.

"But if you don't cooperate, if you insist on being difficult, well... I wouldn't mind doing something to ensure the Stone family faces consequences. Your father's company is already on the brink. It wouldn't take much to push it over the edge."

I held my daughter tightly, my heart pounding. She was threatening me. Threatening my family. Threatening everything.

But I had to do something. I wouldn't allow anyone to take Sophie away. I couldn't.

Just then, the door opened again.

And this time, Aaron walked in.

He was only just arriving. Hours after I'd given birth, hours after I'd nearly died, he was finally here.

I looked up at Aaron, taking in his appearance. His suit was rumpled, his hair slightly disheveled. He looked tired, but not worried. Not panicked. Not like a man who'd rushed to the hospital for his wife and newborn child.

"Aaron," I breathed.

He barely glanced at me, his attention moving immediately to Victoria. "Mother. What's going on?"

I grabbed the documents Victoria had placed on the bed and thrust them toward him, my hands shaking.

"Look at this," I said, my voice breaking. "Look at what your mother just gave me. She wants to take Sophie away. She wants Anastasia to raise our daughter."

Aaron took the papers, scanning them quickly, his expression unreadable.

"Aaron, please," I continued, desperation creeping into my voice. "I would never give our daughter to anyone else. She's ours. She's—"

"Mother is only doing this for the child's best interests," Aaron interrupted, his voice cold and detached. "For Sophie's proper upbringing and development."

The words hit me like a physical blow.

He was defending them. Defending Victoria and Anastasia. Even now, even after everything, he was taking their side.

I couldn't take it anymore.

The dam I'd been holding back for months—for a year—finally broke.

He'd been with Anastasia while I suffered severe bleeding and had to give birth alone. While I'd nearly died bringing his child into the world, he'd been somewhere else, doing God knows what, ignoring my calls.

And even now, when Victoria and Anastasia were trying to take our daughter away from me, he was still defending them. Still treating me like I was the problem, like I was the enemy.

I couldn't bear it anymore. Couldn't stand another moment in this nightmare marriage, this prison where I was hated and blamed for crimes I didn't commit.

I needed to take my daughter away from all of this. Away from Victoria's cruelty, from Anastasia's poisonous presence, from Aaron's cold indifference.

I looked up at Aaron, meeting his eyes directly, and made my decision.

"I want a divorce," I said, my voice clear and firm despite the tears streaming down my face. "Aaron, I want a divorce."