Silas Marlowe was in a foul mood. Scratch that; he was livid. Seeing red literally. His 'heroic' son had proved that when you want something done, you should do it yourself. That's why Marlowe was preparing to go after the Garcia's himself now. And if his ungrateful son attempts to get in the middle, Marlowe would serve him a similar fate to that of his enemies. While the occupants of the Garcia mansion relaxed, thinking all the threats against them had been neutralized, one bodyguard worried. For he knew his father too well, and there was no talking him out of the vengeance scheme that he had planned all his life. But what he didn't expect, was that his father was already on the move. It was two days after Isabella found out that the people closest to her had been keeping a vital secret from her, and she hadn't attempted to talk to any of them since. That's why when she left to meet with her old friend Elton, she didn't let Asher accompany her as always. Instead, she chose one of th

"Please don't hurt her." Asher found himself begging. "You don't have to pretend to care for this wench son, " Silas responded smoothly. "I already confessed our plan to her. "Not to worry, she won't leave to tell a soul. You can go back to finish the rest like we agreed on." Isabella didn't even feel when the tears started. She was too hurt to feel anything, let alone liquid flowing down her cheeks. Asher wanted to fight. But he couldn't. For the fear that his old man might hurt his Isabella. So he decide to play along. Knowing very well that Isabella will never look at him the same way again. But at this point, there was no other option. He would rather have her alive and well hating him, because the alternative was unthinkable."And how will I explain that she slipped out of my watch?" He asked in a bored tone throwing Silas off the track momentarily. Isabella froze. Up until then, a small part of her heart hoped that everything was some twisted joke to test her trust in Asher. But

FOUR YEARS LATER…Isabella couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight that met her eyes once she entered her daughter’s bedroom. The older was sprawled on the floor obediently while his granddaughter painted his entire face with all sorts of stickers, not to mention the colorful rubber bands holding his cropped hair messily. “Look Mummy!” The little girl shouted excitedly. “I am making gramps pretty.”“I can see that pumpkin.” Isabella chuckled. “Dont laugh.” The older man grumbled. But he too couldnt hide his happiness. “You are getting soft, oldman.” Isabella taunted. “Only for her.” The older man retorted. “For her i would go to the depths of hell and combat Lucifer if need be.” Isabella smiled wider. She knew those words to be true. Her daughter, Davina was immensely loved and protected. She will never know suffering like her mother did. The train of thought had Isabella flashabcking a few years ago when she had surmised that happiness was never in the cards for her. Boy had she b