THE PRICE OF A STERLING NAME

​The morning sun spilled across Isabella’s tiny bedroom, a warm, honeyed glow that felt like a blessing after the violence of the storm. For the first time, the bed didn't feel like a place of weary rest, but a sanctuary. Isabella lay with her head on Alexander’s chest, the steady, rhythmic thrum of his heart beneath her ear. They spoke in hushed tones, punctuating their conversation with soft giggles and gentle touches, basking in the glow of their newfound truth.

​The peace was shattered by a sudden, jarring noise. It wasn't a knock; it was a rhythmic assault on the wooden door, harsh and demanding. Isabella and Alexander stiffened, their eyes meeting in a flash of alarm.

​"If it’s my parents, tell them I’m not here," Alexander whispered urgently, his jaw tightening. He didn't want them bringing their poison into this house.

​Isabella smoothed her nightgown and walked to the door, her heart hammering against her ribs. She pulled it open, and the cold air of the hallway rushed in, accompanied by three figures that radiated malice: Eleanor Sterling, Jessica Van Doren, and Jessica’s mother. They didn't wait for an invitation; they pushed their way inside, their eyes scanning the humble apartment with disgust.

​"Where is my son, you gold-digging gutter-rat?" Eleanor spat, her voice trembling with rage.

​Isabella took a step back, her voice shaking but clear. "Morning, ma'am. I’m not aware of what you’re talking about. I don't know who or where your son might be."

​"There is that attitude I told you about, Mother!" Jessica shrieked, her face contorted. "This witch is lying. She knows exactly where he is."

​Eleanor stepped toward Isabella, her presence suffocating. "Look here, you little girl. You are a nobody. You have nothing. Stay away from my son, do you hear me? You bring no value to our family name, and those... those little rats you are carrying? They won't benefit you. In this world, we don't care about pretty faces; we care about rank. Leave my son alone."

​Before Isabella could breathe, Eleanor’s hand lashed out, a stinging slap that sent Isabella reeling. As she fell to the floor, Eleanor’s heel connected painfully with her stomach. "Stay in the dirt where you belong," Eleanor hissed. The three women turned and marched out, the door slamming behind them like a gavel.

​Inside the bedroom, Alexander was frantically pulling on his shirt when he heard the thud and the scream. He rushed out to find Isabella curled on the floor, her face bruised and a terrifying bloom of red staining the thighs of her nightgown.

​"Soso! Who did this? Who did this!" he roared, dropping to his knees and scooping her into his arms.

​"Your mom... and Jessica," Isabella sobbed, clutching her stomach. "They kicked me like I was a dog, Alexander."

​

​Alexander didn't waste a second. He carried her to his car, driving like a man possessed toward St. Jude's private hospital. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his mind a dark storm of vengeance.

​The doctors rushed Isabella into the emergency wing. After an hour that felt like a century, a physician emerged. "She has some internal bruising and minor bleeding, Mr. Sterling, but the twins are resilient. They are perfectly fine. We’ll keep her for observation and discharge her later today."

​Alexander kissed Isabella’s forehead, his eyes burning with a cold, focused fire. "I have to go, Soso. I have to finish this. I’ll be back to take you to your new home."

​He arrived back at the Sterling mansion to find the family gathered in the drawing room, sipping tea as if they hadn't just committed an assault. He stormed in, his presence an icy gale.

​"Mother, how dare you lay a hand on her?" he bellowed. "And you, Jessica—I am ashamed of you. You knew she was pregnant, and you watched as she was kicked. I will never marry a heartless woman like you. Do you understand? Never!"

​"Stop it, Alexander!" Eleanor shouted, standing up. "I’ve had enough of this nonsense! You are going to marry Jessica. That girl is a commoner, a nobody. She is not classy, and she is certainly not your type. This is not a discussion!"

​Alexander looked at his father, seeking a shred of support, but the elder Mr. Sterling simply looked away, his silence a heavy, disapproving weight.

​Suddenly, the front door opened, and a man walked in, radiating an easy, athletic grace. It was Liam Sterling , Alexander’s younger brother, recently returned from the Philippines. Liam was devastatingly handsome, with sun-kissed skin, a sharp jawline, and eyes that held a mischievous but kind light. He and Alexander had always shared a bond that bypassed the family’s rigid expectations.

​"What did I walk into?" Liam asked, sensing the nuclear tension.

​Alexander didn't answer. He turned and marched to his room, and Liam, after a quick, cold greeting to the others, followed him. Inside, Alexander laid it all bare—the penthouse, the pregnancy, the assault, and the forced marriage.

​Liam listened, his expression darkening. "They’ve gone too far, Alex. If they want to play dirty, we’ll play dirtier." He leaned in, his voice a whisper. "We drugged Jessica’s drink at the party tonight. I’ll take her to bed, we’ll record the sex tape on her own phone, and we’ll make sure everyone knows exactly who the 'classy' Van Doren girl really is."

​

​While the plan was being set, Alexander took care of the most important thing: Isabella’s safety. He sent a specialized team to Isabella’s apartment, where Shante was already helping Isabella’s mother prepare.

​"The pickup truck is coming, Shante," Alexander told her over the phone. "Pack everything. You and Isabella’s mother are moving to the Silverwood estate. It’s gated, secure, and fully staffed. No one touches her there."

​Back at the hospital, Isabella was dressing for her discharge. She wore a simple pink jersey dress that clung to her curves and emphasized the small, precious bump. She felt fragile, but when the door opened and Alexander walked in with Liam, she felt a surge of hope.

​Liam went straight to her, dropping to one knee with a charming smile and gently brushing his hand over her bump. "So, these are the famous twins? I’m Liam, the fun uncle. You are absolutely breathtaking, Isabella. My brother is a lucky man."

​Alexander introduced them properly, and for the first time that day, Isabella smiled. They drove to the new estate, a sprawling, modern mansion surrounded by lush gardens and high walls.

​"Alexander, this is too much," Isabella protested as they walked through the marble foyer. "I don't want you spending all this money on me."

​"It’s not for you, Soso," he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It’s for my family. I want you and the kids safe from the people who share my blood."

​

​Later that evening, the two brothers went to a local bar to steady their nerves. They lost track of time, the weight of the upcoming plan hanging over them. When they finally returned to the Sterling mansion, the house was dark and quiet.

​Alexander went to the garage to finalize some arrangements, leaving Liam to enter the house alone. He found Jessica sitting in the dim light of the lounge, a half-empty bottle of wine on the table in front of her.

​Liam sat down beside her, pouring himself a glass. "You look troubled, Jessica."

​"Your brother is an idiot, Liam," she slurred, her eyes glassy. "I’m trying to show him what a good woman I am. I’m trying to show him we have a future. But he’s obsessed with that... that creature."

​"You are a good woman, Jessica," Liam lied, his voice smooth and comforting as he slid a small, clear tablet into her glass while she looked away. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Drink up. You deserve to relax."

​They sat in the shadows, the silence of the house thick with the scent of wine and betrayal. High above, on the landing, Seraphina stood in her nightgown, watching them. She saw the way Liam looked at Jessica—like a wolf looking at a lamb—but she said nothing. She simply turned and vanished back into the darkness, leaving the trap to snap shut.