His Betrayal, His Regret のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 81 - チャプター 90

Isabel’s POVMargot’s attempts to distract or stop the nurse had failed. The panic was rising in my chest. I lay there, shivering in my hospital gown. It offered no protection from the cold, steel room. I felt more exposed, vulnerable and frightened than I ever had.How did it come to this? Who got me into this place, and why?I thought losing my baby was the worst thing that ever happened to me. But now, I wasn’t so sure. This was the most unsafe and terrifying environment I had ever found myself in.The nurse’s footsteps echoed in the small room as she came closer. Each step made my heart pound faster. There was nowhere to run. I was tied to the bed, my wrists bound tightly. Even the room itself was sealed shut. My claustrophobia came up like never before. “Somebody, help me,” I prayed silently, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment. “Please… I can’t do this alone…”The nurse had reached my bedside. “Alright, let’s finally get this over with,” she sighed, casting an angry glance at Ma

Isabel’s POVWhat Margot revealed was beyond anything I could’ve expected. A human trafficking ring? I knew this place was dark, but not like this. Not this vile.My thoughts drifted to Emerson. Had he woken up from his coma yet? If so, was he wondering where I’d gone? Could Michael, his secretary, have pieced together what happened after our phone call was abruptly cut off? I prayed he was looking for me. Maybe he’d be the one to discover the truth. And what about Emma and Robert? I was sure they must’ve thought my time had come. Maybe they assumed the tumor had finally claimed me, and I was just another tragic story.A wave of helplessness washed over me. If they thought I was dead, who would bother searching for me? But maybe, just maybe, Emerson would feel that something was wrong. If he woke up, he’d know something wasn’t right. He always said he could feel my presence, like a sixth sense. Somehow, he had always known when I was in severe trouble. The fire, the claustrophobia

Isabel’s POVThe room was dim, lit only by a single lamp casting long shadows on the walls. Margot sat next to my bed. Her hands were trembling slightly, as if the weight of her words was already too much to bear. I hadn’t anticipated the moment when she would finally open up about what had happened to her. But now, it was here. I could see the pain etched into every line of her face. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to hear it, but I knew she needed to speak.When I asked her what had happened, it was as if a dam had broken. Her eyes filled with tears, and before I could even react, she began sobbing uncontrollably. The sound of her despair cut through me like a knife. I wanted to reach for her hand, but the restraints wouldn’t let me."You don’t have to force yourself," I whispered, gently squeezing her hand. "You can take your time."Margot shook her head, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "No," she managed to say between shaky breaths. "I need to tell someone. I’ve been hol

Isabel’s POVMargot sat beside me. Her eyes were distant. Filled with memories that had been buried deep within her for too long. I could see the weight she carried. I knew that what she was about to share had shaped her entire existence. As she began to speak, her voice was quiet but steady.“I was born into what seemed like the perfect family,” Margot started, her gaze unfocused, as if she was seeing something far away. “My father, Houston Woods, was an officer in the military. A man of honor, respected by his peers. My mother was a politician—sharp, dedicated, always fighting for what she believed was right. And then there was my brother, my protector… He was a major in the army, following in our father’s footsteps.”There was a brief pause as her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve.“We were happy,” she said, almost to herself. “A family full of ambition, full of hope.” Her voice wavered. “But everything changed the day my uncle stepped into our lives.”Her words hung in

Emerson’s POVWhen I woke up, the pain in my head was blinding. The dull throb seemed to pulse through my entire body. I tried to focus, tried to remember what had happened. How long had I been out for? But my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps."Mr. Emerson, you're awake! How are you feeling?" The voice was concerned, almost panicked. A servant I barely recognized rushed over to help me sit up."I’m fine," I muttered, even though the ache in my skull suggested otherwise. "How long have I been unconscious?""Almost two weeks, sir. But I wasn’t the one taking care of you the first week.""Who was that?" I asked, my voice sharper than intended. The thought of anyone other than my close staff taking care of me made my skin crawl.The servant hesitated, his eyes darting nervously before answering, "It was Miss Isabel, but..." He trailed off, his expression uncertain, as if he feared saying more.A strange warmth spread through my chest. Isabel had been taking care of me