Todos los capítulos de The Wife He Used as a Scapegoat : Capítulo 1 - Capítulo 10

~ Isabella ~ The glass walls of Wolfe Corporate Tower reached so high up into the clouds that the cars on the street below looked like tiny plastic toys. I stood inside my private office on the top floor, looking down at the city. My hand rested flat against the cool glass. Everything was quiet. It was the peaceful kind of quiet that comes right before a big surprise. I turned around and looked at my desk. On top of a pile of white papers sat a very small brown box. My fingers shook just a little bit as I reached out and lifted the lid. Inside lay two tiny knitted baby shoes. They were soft and white, small enough to fit right in the palm of my hand. I picked one up and squeezed it. My heart beat fast against my ribs, warm and full. Nobody in the world knew my secret yet. Not the doctors, not the people working out in the hallway, and especially not Nathan. I had taken the test in my private bathroom just an hour ago. Two bright pink lines had shown up instantly. We were having a

~ Isabella ~ The small coffee shop three blocks away from Wolfe Tower smelled like burnt espresso beans and old newspapers. It was cramped, quiet, and dark enough that the two agents watching the street outside through their car windshield couldn't see into the back booth. Maya Lin, my best friend and PR strategist sat across from me, her dark hair pulled into a messy knot at the back of her head. She had three thick yellow folders spread open over the wooden table, blocking our two cold cups of tea. Her fingers moved fast, scanning line after line of printed public registry records. "Blue Sky Holdings was registered eighteen months ago in Nevada," Maya whispered, her pencil making small blue marks on the paper. "Apex Global was opened six months later in Delaware. Neither company has a physical office. Just a mailbox and a paid registered agent." I wrapped my hands around my paper cup, trying to warm my fingers. "What about the bank signatures, Maya? Did you find out where the dig

~ Isabella ~ The federal district courthouse was cold against my back I sat on a wooden bench inside a tiny holding room, my hands locked together by cold steel cuffs. The metal bit deep into my wrists every time I moved, but I didn't care about the pain. My eyes were glued to the heavy wooden door at the front of the room. Every time it creaked open, my heart took a wild leap into my throat. *He’s going to walk through that door,* I told myself, pressing my knees together to stop them from shaking. He signed those papers because his father pressured him. He was confused. But Nathan loves me. He knows I didn't steal that money. He won't leave me here. The heavy brass latch clicked. The door swung inward. A tall figure stepped into the white fluorescent light. My chest swelled with a sudden rush of hope, and I started to stand up. "Nathan—" The word died in my throat. It wasn't Nathan. It was a court guard, his face broad and completely bored. He didn't even look at me as he he

~ Isabella ~ The steel door slammed shut behind me with a loud CLANG. The sound vibrated through my teeth. The heavy iron lock turned with a final, sickening click. I stood frozen in the center of the tiny concrete box, my hands handcuffed tightly behind my lower back. The air smelled of sour bleach, old sweat, and cold dust. "Face the wall, 84920," a female guard yelled from the other side of the small glass window. I didn't move fast enough. The guard pushed open the small slot in the door and banged her heavy metal baton against the steel. BANG! BANG! BANG! "I said face the wall, fraud!" she barked. My body moved on instinct. I turned around, pressing my forehead against the rough, cold cinder block wall. My skin stung from the coarse concrete. My hands trembled inside the steel cuffs, my wrists raw and red from three hours of transport. A month has passed since the federal court sentenced me to three years in prison for corporate fraud and grand larceny. One month since Nat

~ Isabella ~The prison visiting room was small, gray, and completely cold. Thick concrete walls surrounded me, smelling faintly of old bleach and damp dust. A heavy sheet of scratched plastic glass sat in the middle of the room, separating the prisoners from the outside world. I sat down on a hard metal stool. The coldness of the iron went straight through my thin orange uniform.Two years had passed since the heavy gates of Danbury Correctional Institution slided shut behind me. My hands, which used to be soft from typing multi-billion-dollar contracts in a Manhattan tower, were now rough and calloused from scrubbing floors and washing heavy sheets. I reached up and touched a small, faint scar on my left cheek. It was a physical reminder of the kitchen fight from my first month here. That was the day my old, gentle self died. I did not wear jewelry anymore. My ring finger felt strangely light, but the skin was still pale where my wedding band used to sit. A heavy guard stood near th