Todos os capítulos de His Betrayal, His Regret: Capítulo 341 - Capítulo 350

Emerson’s POVI couldn’t move on. No matter how much time had passed since Isabel’s death, the gaping wound in my chest refused to heal. It wasn’t just grief; it was guilt. A relentless, suffocating guilt that gnawed at my sanity day after day. I should have noticed sooner, should have seen the signs of her illness. Instead, I had lashed out, controlled her, suffocated her when all she needed was understanding and space.I often visited her grave, kneeling on the cold, unyielding ground as though it could offer me absolution. The marble headstone was pristine, its engraving sharp and final: Isabel White. The sight of her name etched in stone tore at me every time. I would whisper into the void, hoping that somehow, somewhere, she could hear me.“I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice hoarse. “For everything. I should have been better—for you, for us, for Liam. He’s growing so fast now, Isa. You’d be so proud of him. He’s got your stubbornness, your fire. Every time he smiles, I see you.”Th

Isabel’s POVEric’s words stayed with me long after our conversation. The trust he placed in me, the belief that I could bring Liam back, was both empowering and terrifying. I had spent so long building myself up—physically, emotionally, and mentally—but leaving meant stepping into the unknown again.That night, as I began packing my suitcase, the reality of it all hit me. The familiar comfort of my family estate in Sicily would soon be replaced by the harsh world I had left behind. Yet, this time was different. I was different.A soft rustle near the door caught my attention. I turned to find Elena peeking in, her wide eyes glistening with unshed tears.“Elena? What’s wrong, sweetheart?” I asked gently, setting down the folded dress in my hands.She hesitated, then stepped into the room, clutching her favorite stuffed bunny. “Are you… leaving me?”Her words pierced through me like a knife. I knelt down to her level, holding her tiny hands in mine. “Oh, sweetheart, no. I could never

Isabel’s POVThe line was silent for a moment before a confused voice came through. "Sorry, who is this?" Robert asked, the faint sound of papers shuffling in the background.I almost laughed but held it back, savoring the moment. “It’s Isabel,” I said, a small smile tugging at my lips. “I’m back in Rivermont.”There was a sharp intake of breath, followed by a stunned, almost disbelieving, “Isabel? Is it really you?”“It sure is,” I confirmed, letting the warmth in my voice convey what words couldn’t.The line went quiet again, but this time I could sense the emotion on the other end. “I—I can’t believe it,” Robert finally stammered. “After all this time…”“Well, believe it,” I replied lightly, though my heart felt heavy with the weight of all the years of silence between us. “I’m here, and I thought we should catch up.”“Yes,” he said immediately, his voice a mix of urgency and relief. “When? Where?”We arranged to meet at a quiet café on the edge of town. It had once been a favorite

Emerson’s POV“Daddy, where are you going?”I paused mid-step, turning to see Liam standing in the doorway, rubbing sleep from his eyes. His hair was a tousled mess, and his favorite blanket hung limply from his small hand. Despite the early hour, his innocent gaze pierced through me like sunlight through storm clouds.“You’re awake so early, my son,” I said, scooping him up into my arms. His warmth was comforting, grounding me in a way little else could.Liam tilted his head, curiosity shining in his eyes. “Are you going to see Mommy?”His words froze me in place. My grip on him tightened slightly, and I shot a questioning glance at the nanny standing just behind him. She shifted uncomfortably.“I… I think it’s because of your sleep talk, sir,” she admitted hesitantly. “Back when you went to visit Isabel’s grave every day, you, uh... Every time you returned, you’d call her name in your dreams.”“Oh… I see,” I muttered, my shoulders slumping slightly.The maid’s gaze softened as she c

Isabel’s POVThe courtroom erupted into a storm of murmurs and gasps as I stood there. My real family’s name—Sullivan—sliced through the air like a thunderclap. Some whispered about my identity, others speculated about the scandal unfolding before their eyes.“Order in the court!” the judge barked, her gavel striking down hard. The noise subsided into a tense silence. But curiosity lingered in every corner of the room. The judge leaned forward, her expression stern but intrigued. “Approach the stand,” she commanded, her voice sharp.I held my head high, letting the weight of every eye in the room settle on me. My heels clicked against the polished floor as I walked with measured, deliberate steps toward the witness stand. Years of pain, silence and waiting coiled within me. But outwardly, I was calm—poised.Victor’s lawyer shot to his feet, his veneer of professionalism cracking. “Your Honor, this is highly irregular. This witness—”“Sit down,” the judge cut him off, her glare slicin