THE SHATTERED MIRROR

The silence of the villa was broken only by the rhythmic, heavy thud of Isabella’s heart against her ribs. Mama G stood in the doorway, a dark silhouette against the perfection of the afternoon. Her smile was a jagged thing, cold and devoid of the false maternal warmth she used to offer her "girls."

​"What do you want here?" Isabella asked, her voice trembling despite her attempts to sound brave. She stood her ground, her hand resting protectively over the heavy swell of her stomach.

​Mama G chuckled, a low, gravelly sound. "I want you, Isabella. You belong to me. Did you forget our contract? Or did the silk sheets make you lose your memory?"

​"I don't belong to you," Isabella snapped, her eyes flashing with a sudden, desperate fire. "I am a wife. I am a mother. And I know enough about your operation—the girls you sell, the laws you break—to end your ‘illegal nonsense’ in a single phone call."

​Mama G’s eyes narrowed into slits. "Oh, you’re brave now? I like it. But Isabella, I’m not playing with you. I was kind to you. I gave you the best clients. I protected you. And this is how you thank me? By vanishing like a ghost?"

​"Mama G, please," Isabella’s voice softened into a plea. "I’m about to bring two lives into this world. I can’t go back to that. I’ll pay you. Whatever you want. Just name the price and stay away from my family."

​"Married to the lion, aren't we?" Mama G stepped into the foyer, her presence fouling the clean air. "So Alexander didn't stop looking for you. I warned him. I told him to let you go, but he was always an obsessive one. And as for those babies..." She looked at Isabella’s bump with disdain. "I told you to always use protection. Was this your plan all along? To trap the king and escape the gutter? Smart girl."

​"It wasn't a plan! It was love!" Isabella cried, tears pricking her eyes. "You were like a mother to me once. Please, don't take this from me."

​Mama G’s expression shifted, a flicker of genuine fear crossing her face. "Isabella, I wish it were that simple. But the world doesn't let go so easily. The men who used to be your clients... powerful, dangerous men... they are threatening to burn my business to the ground if I don’t bring you back. My life is at risk, too. And you have new enemies, little bird. A woman—thin, blonde, desperate—came to me. Jessica, I believe her name was. She offered me a fortune just for a sliver of your history."

​Isabella felt the walls closing in. Jessica. The name was a venomous sting. Realizing she had to buy time, Isabella ushered Mama G further into the house, away from the prying eyes of the staff. She rushed to the concealed safe in the library, grabbing thick stacks of cash—more money than she had ever earned in a year at the parlor—and shoved them into a large brown envelope.

​"Take this. Go. I’ll talk to Alexander. He has connections; he can fix the threats against you. Just don't tell a soul where I am," Isabella whispered.

​Outside, the maintenance truck hummed, preparing to leave. Mama G tucked the envelope under her arm and slipped back out the way she came, disappearing into the van just as the security sensors reset.

​

​When Alexander arrived home, he found Isabella sitting in the darkened nursery, her face pale and her eyes red-rimmed. She didn't hold back. She told him everything—the visit, the threats, and the shadow of Jessica looming over their peace.

​Alexander’s fury was a cold, quiet thing. He knelt before her, his hands steady on her knees. "I will fix this, Soso. First thing tomorrow, I will handle Mama G and find out exactly what Jessica has done. I will tighten the security. No one will ever slip through again."

​But the universe had other plans. That night, the stress of the confrontation finally took its toll.

​By 11:00 PM, Isabella was doubled over in the bedroom, a sharp, white-hot pain blooming in her abdomen. "Alexander!" she gasped, clutching the bedpost. "The babies... it’s time."

​Alexander sprang into action. He had already prepared for this, hiring the best private midwives to be on call. Within twenty minutes, the house was transformed into a high-tech birthing suite. He called his sisters, his father, and Isabella’s mother and Shante. He even called Eleanor, who arrived in a flurry of silk and nervous energy.

​The labor was a grueling, hours-long battle. Alexander never left Isabella’s side. He held her hand, his knuckles white, whispering words of strength as she pushed through the agony.

​"One more, Soso. Just one more," he encouraged, his voice thick with emotion.

​With a final, shattering cry, the first sound of new life filled the room—a robust, healthy wail. Minutes later, a second, softer cry joined it. A boy and a girl. Evan and Eva.

​The midwives quickly cleaned the infants, wrapping them in soft white linen before placing them in their parents' arms. Alexander looked down at his children, tears streaming openly down his face. They were the light he had been searching for his entire life, the redemption for every dark choice he had ever made.

​Outside in the living area, the families waited in hushed anticipation. When Alexander finally stepped out, carrying the two small bundles, the room erupted in quiet sobs of joy. Even Eleanor looked at the infants with a softened gaze, her heart finally thawing as she touched the tiny hand of her grandson.

​

​The following morning was surreal. The house was filled with the soft sounds of newborns and the quiet movements of family members tending to Isabella. But Alexander couldn't rest. He had a debt to settle and a threat to neutralize.

​He drove to the outskirts of the city, toward the nondescript hotel that served as Mama G’s headquarters. He expected a fight, or at least a negotiation. Instead, he arrived to find the street cordoned off by yellow police tape.

​The hotel was a hive of activity. Alexander’s heart hammered against his ribs as he saw a gurney being wheeled out, a body draped in heavy black plastic.

​He sent his personal assistant, who had arrived on the scene minutes before, to gather information. The PA returned, his face ashen. "Sir... it’s Mama G. She was found in her office this morning. Shot in cold blood late last night."

​Alexander stood by his car, the cold morning wind whipping at his coat. He felt a strange mixture of relief and horror. The woman who knew Isabella’s deepest secrets was gone, but the violence of her end suggested a new, more dangerous player in the game.

​He spotted a lead investigator he recognized, James Cliffer , an old acquaintance from various corporate security briefings.

​"Cliffer," Alexander called out, ducking under the tape. "What happened here?"

​Cliffer looked up from his notepad, his expression grim. "Professional hit, Mr. Sterling. One shot to the head. But the killer was sloppy—or perhaps overconfident. We found a few things."

​Cliffer pointed to a small evidence bag containing a shimmering, expensive-looking diamond earring and a few strands of long, blonde hair snagged on the velvet upholstery of the office chair.

​"A woman did this," Cliffer noted. "A woman with expensive taste and a very personal grudge."

​

​Alexander drove back to the villa in a daze. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, and the image they formed was terrifying. Jessica hadn't just been looking for information; she had been looking for a way to erase the evidence of her own failures, and Mama G was the only bridge left.

​He entered the master bedroom, where Isabella was propped up against the pillows, Evan and Eva sleeping soundly in the twin bassinet beside her. She looked up, her face radiant with motherhood but still shadowed by the fear of the previous day.

​"Alexander? Did you see her? Is it handled?" she asked softly.

​Alexander sat on the edge of the bed, taking her hand in his. He couldn't lie to her, not anymore.

​"Mama G is dead, Soso," he said, his voice a low whisper. "She was murdered last night."

​Isabella’s eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. "What? How?"

​"The police found evidence," Alexander continued, his gaze intense. "An earring and blonde hair. It was Jessica. She must have followed Mama G after she left here, or she was waiting for her. She killed her to keep the past silent—or to punish her for not giving her what she wanted."

​Isabella looked at her sleeping children, the weight of the world pressing down on her beautiful new life. The past wasn't just a shadow; it was a ghost that had claimed a life.

​"She won't stop, will she?" Isabella whispered.

​"She’s already finished," Alexander promised, his voice turning to steel. "The police have her DNA. They have the evidence. I will make sure Jessica Van Doren never sees the light of day again. You are safe now, Isabella. We are all safe."

​As the sun climbed higher, casting a warm glow over the nursery, Isabella leaned into Alexander’s chest. The storm had finally broken, and though the wreckage was scattered, the light of their new family was strong enough to guide them home.