All Chapters of Trapped as the CEO'S ex-wife : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

ISABELLA'S POINT OF VIEW His hand cracked against my cheek so hard I stumbled into the wall. “You stupid woman!” Felix roared. “Where were you thinking of going?!” “I—I wasn’t going anywhere… please, I swear—” My words broke as he shoved me to the ground. “You can’t even make a decent juice for Vanessa,” he spat, kicking me in the ribs. “Useless.” Warm blood trickled from my nose. My vision blurred, but no tears fell. I had learned not to cry—it only made him hit harder. Felix adjusted his tie, eyes full of disgust, then stormed out of the house with her. With Vanessa Page. His mistress. The door slammed. Silence. I pressed my palm against my swollen cheek and tried to breathe through the throbbing in my ribs. “Madam…” the maid’s soft voice broke the quiet as she rushed in. Her hands trembled while she dabbed at my bleeding nose with a clean cloth. “Please… try not to anger him.” “I didn’t do anything,” I whispered. My voice was flat, empty. Because this wasn’t new

ISABELLA'S POINT OF VIEW Morgan stormed into the mansion like a hurricane. I barely had time to stand up before her sharp eyes landed on the bruise that refused to fade on my cheek. “Are you kidding me, Isabella?” she snapped, dropping her bag on the couch. “This is bullshit. Absolute bullshit. How long are you going to let him use you as a punching bag?” I flinched at her words, clutching my arms to my chest. “Morgan… please, not so loud.” My voice came out smaller than I intended. She rolled her eyes, pacing the living room like she owned it. “Loud? Isabella, he hit you again! And you’re just standing here like it’s nothing. God, it makes me sick. Divorce him. Leave this loveless marriage before he kills you.” My throat tightened. Divorce? If only it were that easy. But how could I tell her? How could I open my mouth and say, I’m trapped in a ten-year contract, Morgan. I can’t leave. I owe him my family’s lives. I shook my head slowly, forcing a weak smile. “It’s not li

ISABELLA'S POINT OF VIEW I woke up to the soft brush of lips against mine. My eyes fluttered open, and there he was—Felix. Sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at me with an expression I couldn’t read. Worry, tenderness, something else… something new. Something I've never felt in ten years. “Felix…” My voice was barely a whisper. He smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face before pecking my lips again. “I’m staying home tonight,” he murmured, voice low and gentle. I blinked at him, heart thudding in a way I hadn’t expected. “You… you should go. work… The company…” He shook his head, brushing my cheek with the back of his hand. “No. Not tonight. Tonight, I’m here. With you.” I wanted to argue, but the way he looked at me—so completely serious yet tender—made my words catch in my throat. I let him stay. When he finally left later that evening, I exhaled, a small smile tugging at my lips. I guess everything is working out… I whispered to myself, feeling the

ISABELLA'S POINT OF VIEW Felix had already left for whatever he was doing. Maybe he went to see his mistress. Or to work. Or whatever business he was pretending to have. I didn’t care anymore. I stood in the middle of our bedroom—no, his bedroom—and stared at the half-packed suitcase on the bed. My hands shook as I folded another shirt, my chest tight with anger and disgust. Ten years. Ten whole years of my life, wasted on a man who turned out to be a liar, a monster. How could I have been so stupid? So blind? He made me believe we were destined for each other, made me believe I was lucky to have him though he treats me like shit. And now, all this time, I find out I was just living someone else’s life. I wasn’t meant to marry Felix. I was meant to marry his so-called best friend, Julian. The one he constantly compared himself to, the one who always looked at me like he pitied me. I hated both of them. I zipped my bag and exhaled shakily. “You’re not a toy, Isabella,” I whispe

ISABELLA'S POINT OF VIEW I sank onto Morgan’s couch, my head heavy, my chest tight with exhaustion. Six rejections. Six. Every single interview had gone perfectly—or so I thought. I answered confidently, dressed neatly, smiled politely, and yet, the moment my papers were on the desk, or they heard my name, something shifted in them. Every single time, the words came out the same way. “I’m sorry, we cannot hire you.” It felt like a punch to my chest each time, a fresh wound forming over the last one. I promised myself I would win. I promised I would survive, carve a new path, and make this life mine. And yet, here I was, drained and frustrated, wondering where I had gone wrong. I did everything right, didn’t I? Why wasn’t it enough? After hours of scouring job boards, sending resumes, following up on leads, and barely getting any responses, I finally came home to Morgan’s apartment, alone. The quiet was deafening. My stomach growled, my eyes ached, and all I wanted was to curl up a