Throughout her life, she only knelt in front of her grandfather after he found out that she was pregnant. That day when he was whipping her with a cane. That was the first and last time that she knelt on the floor for someone. If she knelt today, it was going to be a second time.But Rosie was her daughter. She can't let her daughter keep hurting and even if it means getting rid of her pride and kneeling over and over again, it doesn't matter to her. She would easily accept it. Izabelle was almost on her knees but just as her legs were about to touch the ground, her body was suddenly pulled up fiercely and she crashed into a hard surface causing her eyes to widen. She turned around and saw that it was Marcel. “Ma…Marcel?” He pushed her behind him and protectively stood in front of her. His hands stopped her from moving forward. He looked indifferently at Jasmine before speaking. “I'm giving you one last chance to redeem yourself. Drop the child and get away. If you don't, don't bl

*A Few Hours Ago*Marcel walked into the police station with the policemen beside him. “Please sit down, Mr. Wilson. You have to give us your statement.”He nodded and sat down on the chair astride a policeman whom he thought was of higher ranking than the rest of the policemen. This place stinks. How many prisoners were being locked up in here? He feels like throwing up. “What’s going to happen to them?” He asked. “We’re going to lock them up. This is a case of attempted murder and kidnapping. There’s no bail. They’ll be charged to court and the judge will give his judgment. Trust me, they aren’t getting out of prison.”“They better not. If I find out that one of them goes missing before the court proceedings, it isn’t going to be so nice for any of us. “Yes sir. Please give us your statement. Who is the child in question and how is she related to you?”Marcel sighed. “We have to hurry. I have to be in the hospital soon. The child’s name is Rosie Mae Wilson. She’s my daughter.”

Marcel rushed out of the hospital and got to the parking lot, he opened the door of his mother’s car and got in. “Marcel? Son?” He heard someone call his name from behind and he waited for the person to come forward. “Dad.”“When did you want up, my son?”“A few minutes ago.”“What? And where are you going?”“It's important. I'll call when I get to my destination,” that was all he said before starting the car and driving out of the hospital at full speed. He ignored the old man who tried to call him back. All he could think about right now was his wife and kid. He wanted to go there and find out if they were fine. That was what was in his head right now. Nothing more was important than that. Not even his life. *****After an hour of driving to the city, Marcel finally got to the city and rushed into the city hospital. He ignored the people staring at him and rushed to the ICU room door to look inside but it was empty. His eyes widened as he looked better. It was as if he could pict

The next day, Marcel walked into the hospital looking a little bit presentable. His mother had persuaded him to have his bath, dress nicely, and look good. He was wearing a big eyeglass that covered the dark circles in his eyes. He has big dark eyes from not sleeping for the past few days and they were puffy. When he looked at himself in the mirror today, he almost spat out but he didn't care. If it wasn’t for his mother, he doesn’t mind coming here without bathing as that was the least of his problems. His problems were more than bathing and dressing up nicely. He walked around the hospital asking the staff if they knew anything about his wife and daughter but all of them said that they knew nothing about it even after he offered them lots of money. He didn’t want to sit down at home so he came here as he demanded answers. He wanted answers to the questions twirling in his head for the past few days. All he wanted was answers. “If you tell me all that you know, I’ll give you ten th

Izabelle closed her eyes to calm herself down at the lady’s words and she opened them again to speak but before she could speak, Nick beat her to it. He walked to the door, took the umbrella from the lady, and started. “Auntie.”The lady was only thirty-four to thirty-five but she looked like she was in her mid-fifties already and that was the reason why Nick called her ‘Auntie.’ She looked like she could birth both of them.“Hey, you. I wasn't talking to you and how dare you call me Auntie, kid? I am not your mother’s sister nor your father’s sister. So don't call me that,” she pursed her lips before turning to look at Izabelle, and shamelessly, she blurted out. “Just look at you. How old are you? Yet you can't stick to one guy. Just stick to one and stop whoring around. Can't you stick to one man? You are young and with a child. Sooner or later you'll probably get screwed by a man.”“How can you say that?” Nick’s face darkened. “Bla blah blah. Don't you dare yell at me? Do I loo