All Chapters of The Billionaire's secret baby bride : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Isabella’s POVThe forest felt endless.Branches tore at my skin as we ran, roots snagged my boots, and the rain never stopped falling. Every breath burned, and still, Alexander didn’t slow. His grip on my hand was iron—tight, desperate, unrelenting—as if letting go would mean losing everything.The night was alive with sounds. Thunder groaned. The distant echo of sirens fractured the air. And underneath it all, the hollow beat of our hearts pounded in unison.When we finally broke through the trees and reached the narrow dirt road leading back to the mansion, my legs gave out. I stumbled to my knees, gasping for air.“Alexander—” I tried to speak, but my throat was raw, my chest heavy with fear.He turned, scanning the shadows behind us before crouching beside me. Rain ran down his face, tracing the hard lines of his jaw, mingling with streaks of blood.“We can’t stop yet,” he said, voice rough. “They’ll follow.”“Your brother…” I whispered, the word foreign on my tongue. “He’s reall

Isabella’s POVThe air still smelled of smoke when we returned.Even hours after leaving the forest, the scent of gunpowder and rain clung to my skin, soaked into my hair, refusing to fade. The convoy’s tires crunched over gravel as we approached the mansion — Alexander’s mansion — though it hardly felt like a home anymore.It looked like a fortress now, a shadow of power and pain standing tall against the dawn.When the gates swung open, I expected relief. I expected to breathe. But instead, all I felt was the same hollow ache that had followed us since the forest — the kind that comes after surviving something that should have killed you.The men were silent as they unloaded the weapons, some limping, some bleeding. No one spoke. No one dared to. The weight of what had happened — of what Alexander had done — hung over us like a shroud.I turned to look at him.He sat in the back seat beside me, his arm pressed against his side where Damian’s knife had cut him. His eyes were distant,

Isabella's POV The air was heavy with dust and ash when Isabella woke. The ruins of Valmere lay around her like a graveyard of old empires—shattered columns, blackened stones, and the faint, haunting whisper of a wind that seemed to carry voices from centuries past.Her head throbbed. Every pulse of pain echoed behind her eyes, and when she tried to move, agony shot down her side. She winced, forcing her trembling hand to press against the wound at her ribs. Dried blood had crusted on her torn dress, its once-soft silk now stiff and dark.For a moment, she couldn’t remember how she got there. Then, like shards of glass piercing through the fog, memories returned—the ambush, the screams, the explosion of fire on the road. Alexander’s voice shouting her name before the shadows swallowed everything.Her breath hitched. Alexander…The bond between them still pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat in her veins. Even separated by distance and chaos, she could feel him. The echo of his fury, his

The night pressed down on me like a living thing, heavy and suffocating, yet somehow familiar. The ruins of the old watchtower were a fragile sanctuary, its walls cracked and worn, but for the first time in hours, I felt a flicker of safety. Yet the bond between Alexander and me throbbed like a heartbeat, sharp and insistent, reminding me that danger was never far behind.I shifted slightly on the pile of blankets, wincing as pain flared along my ribs. The bruises were deeper than I had realized, and each movement sent a ripple of agony through my body. But more than the physical hurt, there was the emotional weight—fear, despair, and the unrelenting pull of the curse.I drew in a shaky breath, trying to calm the storm inside me. My fingers grazed the edge of Alexander’s coat, still draped over me. His scent lingered—wood smoke, rain, and something indefinably him. I closed my eyes and let myself sink into the memory of his presence, his voice, his hands. It was a lifeline, but also a

Isabella's POVThe storm had passed—or at least its roar had softened—and the forest lay soaked and trembling under the weight of night and rain. My legs were sore, my body bruised, and my hands still trembled from adrenaline. Yet the ache in my chest was deeper, the one that came from realizing just how close we had been to losing everything.Alexander stood a few feet away, rain-soaked and motionless, surveying the aftermath. His coat was shredded in places, mud streaking his sharp lines, and there was still blood on his hands—some his own, some not. My stomach knotted, a mix of fear and awe swelling inside me. He was terrifying when he fought, a force of pure rage and precision, and I had never felt so vulnerable, so reliant on another human being.I pushed myself to my feet, shaking, and stepped closer to him. The bond between us throbbed—a slow, steady pulse that made my chest ache in a way only he could. I wanted to reach out, to touch him, to let him know that I was alive, that