All Chapters of Mommy Please Come Back, Daddy Is Sorry : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

~Isla~ “It’s good news.” The doctor said with a gentle smile. I had woken up that morning with a queasy stomach and a pounding headache. I didn’t know what to make of it, and my health is something I never joke with, so I rushed to the hospital. I didn’t expect that nagging morning sickness to be good news. What good news? “Congratulations, Mrs. Calloway, you are three weeks pregnant.” My brain stopped for a moment. I blinked. “Pregnant? I’m pregnant?” I asked like I’ve never heard of that word before. Of course I wasn’t expecting it… I mean, I’m not even allowed to imagine being pregnant, so it’s a big shock to me. A wave of warmth spread through my chest despite the shock. For five long years in this cold, loveless marriage, I had stopped hoping for miracles. But this little life growing inside me felt like one. My chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths. I fought the urge to jump on the doctor in excitement, but of course I wouldn’t dare. As the wife of the great Ma

~Isla~ I remained frozen in the middle of the dining room, my body trembling with a mixture of rage, heartbreak, and disbelief. The scattered food and bloodstains on the marble floor felt like a cruel painting of my destroyed life. Marcus had stormed out, leaving behind only the echo of his furious footsteps and the scent of his cologne that now turned my stomach. Aunt Linda and Cara stood there wearing triumphant smiles, like predators who had finally caught their prey. “What did I ever do to you?!” I shouted, my voice shaking as I glared at the mother-daughter duo. “Why would you do this to me? Why?” “You don’t deserve to be here, Isla!” Aunt Linda spat, stepping closer with pure venom in her eyes. “We never wanted you as part of this family. You shouldn’t have been Marcus’s wife in the first place, much less carry a child for him!” Cara moved even closer, her eyes filled with malice. “You’re such a low life!” she barked directly in my face. “You think we’re going to let yo

~Isla~ The streetlights blurred through my tears as I forced myself to keep moving. My body was screaming for rest, but hunger and desperation pushed me forward. I spotted a small, warmly lit restaurant ahead. The smell of hot food drifting out made my stomach twist painfully. I had no money, but maybe, just maybe, someone would show me a little kindness. I pushed open the door with trembling hands. “Hi there. Table for one?” The waiter greeted me with a polite smile. I shook my head, tears already pooling in my eyes. “I… I’m hungry, sir… and I don’t have any money. Please… help me. I’m pregnant.” He stared at me in surprise for a moment, then blinked. “Sure, uh… what would you like to eat?” A small wave of relief washed over me. “Anything… anything at all, please,” I whispered gratefully. “Please, have a seat, ma’am.” He gestured toward an empty table in the corner. “Thank you so much,” I said quietly, my legs nearly giving out as I sat down. But the relief was short

~Isla~ My eyes fluttered open slowly, the bright light from a crystal chandelier above made me wince. The bed beneath me was impossibly soft, nothing like the hard pavement I had collapsed on. Silk sheets brushed against my skin, and the faint scent of lavender filled the air. Where was I? Before I could fully process anything, the door burst open. Several servants in crisp uniforms rushed in, their faces warm and attentive. “Madam, you’re awake!” one of the older women exclaimed with relief. “How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?” Another younger maid stepped forward quickly. “What do you need, Madam? Water? Food? Should we bring something light for you to eat?” I sat up slowly, my head spinning. “W-where am I? Who are you people?” The doctor; a middle-aged man with a kind face and a stethoscope around his neck moved closer and gently checked my pulse. “Everything looks stable, Madam. You are all doing fine. Strong heartbeat. You were severely dehydrated and exhaust

~Isla~ Three weeks had passed since that life-changing conversation with Andrew. France was everything I had dreamed it would be, and even more. The streets of Paris felt like a different world. The beautiful architecture, the soft glow of the city lights at night, and the inspiring atmosphere helped soothe the deep wounds I carried. For the first time in months, I could breathe without constant fear crushing my chest. I now went by the name Aurelia Vale. Andrew had arranged everything perfectly: a new passport, new documents, and a completely clean identity. No one in America could trace me here. To the world, Isla Calloway had disappeared. In her place was a mysterious, elegant woman starting over. I stood in the bright studio Andrew had set up for me in our elegant Paris apartment. Sunlight streamed through the large windows as I sketched new jewelry designs. My fingers, which had felt useless for so long, moved with renewed purpose. I was designing again, creating pieces that