Todos os capítulos de Betrayed by love : Capítulo 81 - Capítulo 85

POV: IsabellaSilence filled the space, broken only by the soft tick of the wall clock - each beat thudding inside me like something alive. Perched on the sofa's edge, fingers shaking, pulse roaring, eyes locked on the screen in my palm. Set for Tuesday: the procedure. Done before sunrise, hidden from Victor, kept far from every face that might say no.Shaking hands moved across the glass, eyes stuck on those words again and again. Unbelievable, really. As if stepping into something with no way back. Logic shouted - pause, think of Victor, the unborn child, everything already built - but then Mom came to mind. Her weak body. How she needed me. The fear that saying no would cost her life - that pulled harder.My breath caught, sourness burning at the back of my tongue. This queasiness that clung to me for days, once brushed off as just early pregnancy, now cut deeper - like regret sharpening with each step taken. Around my middle, my arms folded tight, almost like pressure from outside m

POV: VictorA weight settled after the doctor finished talking, every syllable pressing into me. Frozen there in the hall, sharp with antiseptic air, clarity came piece by piece. Traces remained, he explained - signs of a termination only recently completed. His voice stayed measured, eyes tracking my stance. The evidence suggested a procedure, one taken shortly before this momentA gasp stuck in the throat. Knuckles whitened, stinging across each palm now - fierce and bright. None of this could be happening. What once was tenderness toward Isabella shattered under a rush of anger instead. Heat rose through the chest, sparked by deceit.Down the hall, my steps echoed hard against the floor tiles before I opened the door. She lay there - Isabella - on the mattress, pale as parchment, her breathing thin, eyes wide when they caught mine. From somewhere broken came a sound: “Victor…” Almost no motion in her mouth.“You… you were behind this?” The question cracked out, trembling from rage pre

POV: IsabellaSunlight crept in, gentle, behind the sheer fabric hanging by the window, touching walls and floor with quiet warmth. Mine. That word sat oddly right, even though the place held little beyond four walls and borrowed furniture. Heavy eyes, yes - but also something stubborn beneath them, refusing to look down. Names echoed: Victor shouting, Eleanor crying, Margaret always moving pieces on some hidden board. Each memory clung, thick as smoke after a fire long gone out. Still, what mattered now began tomorrow - and that meant stepping forward without turning back.A warm mug rested between my palms while steam curled up near my face. Lately, Thomas showed up different - no questions, just space where silence felt like kindness. His way of staying close without reaching too far spoke louder than words ever would.From the door frame, he watched with folded arms, a faint grin pulling one corner of his mouth. Maybe now it's starting to feel normal, he thought out loud.I glanced u