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Chapter Seventy Nine
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2026-11-07 01:00:12Travis
The words left my mouth before I understood that I had spoken them, and I watched them strike her like stones.
I never wanted this. I had not meant to say it, and I could not call it back, and the sentence hung in the warm air of that library with a terrible permanence. Isabella flinched as though I had struck her across the face, and her hand flew to her stomach in a gesture so instinctive and so fierce that it cut me far deeper than any accusation could have done. She d
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The CEO’s Ruined Bride: My Ex Wants Me Back Chapter Eighty One
KarinaI learned of the child in a hotel bathroom, from a woman who was supposed to be incapable of surprising me.Desire had telephoned at six in the morning, and she had spoken in the clipped monotone of someone reading a casualty list. She told me that the Chairman’s people had stripped a clinic on Wimpole Street during the night, that the wife was nine weeks gone and thriving, and that the husband had been told at midnight in a library in Kensington. I sat on the edge of the marble bath with the telephone against my ear and the taps running to cover my breathing, and I felt two opposite things arrive in me so close together that I could not separate them.The first was horror, because I knew what a child meant to a man like the Chairman. The second was a cold bright thread of calculation that I despised myself for recognising, and I followed it as a sleepwalker follows a corridor.A child complicated everything, and complications were the only s
The CEO’s Ruined Bride: My Ex Wants Me Back Chapter Eighty
IsabellaI wept into Scott’s jumper until the wool was damp from collar to cuff, and he never once told me that he had warned me.He did not warn me, and he did not say a word of comfort that sounded rehearsed. He sat beside me on the library sofa with one arm around my shoulders and the other resting on the cushion beside my knee, and he let me shake until the storm in me wore itself thin. The fire burned down to a bed of red coals, and the clock in the hall chimed two and then three, and the light of the single lamp made a warm island in the vast dark room.Travis had been gone for nearly an hour, and I had not moved from the place where he left me. I had heard the front door close and the car engine fail to start, and then I had heard nothing at all, and the silence afterward had pressed against my ears like water. A part of me had listened for his footsteps returning along the terrace, and another part had prayed that they would not, and I had hated bo
The CEO’s Ruined Bride: My Ex Wants Me Back Chapter Seventy Eight
IsabellaI had imagined this moment in a hundred different rooms, and in every one of them I had been wearing something more dignified than a borrowed dressing gown.I had been woken by the sound of a fist on the front door, and I had lain rigid beneath the coverlet while the old house carried the murmur of two men’s voices up through its floors. Scott had come to my door a minute later with his jumper rumpled and his face grave, and he had told me in a quiet voice that my husband was downstairs and had been drinking. He had asked whether I wished to see him, and I had said yes before I had thought, because some stubborn instinct told me that whatever was waiting in that library had been coming for me since the night of the hotel.Now I stood in the doorway with my hand against the frame and watched Travis hold my child’s first photograph against his chest like a man holding a wound closed. His face was grey beneath the stubble, and his eyes were red
The CEO’s Ruined Bride: My Ex Wants Me Back Chapter Seventy Nine
TravisThe words left my mouth before I understood that I had spoken them, and I watched them strike her like stones.I never wanted this. I had not meant to say it, and I could not call it back, and the sentence hung in the warm air of that library with a terrible permanence. Isabella flinched as though I had struck her across the face, and her hand flew to her stomach in a gesture so instinctive and so fierce that it cut me far deeper than any accusation could have done. She did not weep and she did not shout, and the stillness of her face was the worst thing that I had ever seen.“I did not mean it as it sounded,” I said, and the words came out thick and clumsy. “I only meant that I never allowed myself to imagine it, because I have spent my whole life arranging things so that this could not happen.”“I see that you succeeded splendidly in the arranging.” She spoke very quietly, and the courtesy in her voice was a bl
The CEO’s Ruined Bride: My Ex Wants Me Back Chapter Seventy Seven
TravisThe burgundy had sat untouched on the sideboard for an hour after Karina left, and I did not stop looking at it until I had drunk myself past the point where looking mattered.She had refused to say more. She set down her glass, laid two fingers against my sleeve, and told me that a woman who had lived five years in a house with no windows had learned to ration her truths like water in a desert. The body in my mother’s coffin had never been viewed by anyone who loved her, she said, and the person who might still explain why was not yet safe to name. Then she had walked out and left the lift doors sighing shut behind her, and I had poured the first whisky without noticing that my hand was shaking.By eleven o’clock the study smelled of peat and cold ashes, and I sat on the floor with my back against the desk and Isabella’s emerald ring clenched in my fist until its setting bit into my palm. I had told myself that the performance was neces
The CEO’s Ruined Bride: My Ex Wants Me Back Chapter Seventy Six
The ShowerElianaThe invitations had gone out on cream card embossed with silver storks, and Mrs. Moore had personally written every address in her spidery copperplate hand.The shower was to be held at the Hampstead house on a grey Sunday afternoon, and she had spent four days preparing it with the grim intensity of a woman rallying a failing army. Thirty-five guests had accepted, which she considered a triumph, and which I considered evidence that London’s matrons had missed the drama of a Moore scandal more than they feared its contagion. The drawing room had been transformed with swags of pale yellow tulle and bowls of white freesia, and a table along the window groaned beneath a pyramid of boxes wrapped in pastel paper.I sat in a high-backed chair at the head of the room like a queen receiving tribute, wearing a flowing lemon silk dress that hid the extra weight of the pad at my waist. I had redesigned the apparatus three times since the hosp
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