Chapter 18
1277 Words
Isabella woke up with a pounding headache.
She blinked at her clothes, no, this wasn't what she wore earlier. A revealing nightgown clung to her skin.
How did I end up in this?
She squeezed her eyes shut and the fragments hit her like knives, the kitchen… the food… the giggle... the strange smell…
Isabella's jaw tightened.
So it was her.
She bolted out of bed, ran straight to the kitchen, and froze.
The meal she'd cooked with so much hope was untouched.
A strange heaviness settled in her chest. She wanted her children to remember their happy days through this meal… but clearly something had gone very wrong.
And everyone had been acting suspicious. Avoiding her. Whispering.
What exactly happened?
She hurried toward the maid quarters. Halfway there, she met Clara.
Isabella tried to walk past, but Clara stepped in front of her, eyes cold.
"How could you? Even your own child?"
Isabella stopped dead. "What are you talking about?"
Clara didn't bother explaining. She just shook her head and walked away.
Confusion twisted Isabella's stomach into knots.
Why is everyone angry? What happened? Where is Ana?
She searched every corner of the mansion. No Ana. No answers.
Fine. She'd at least change out of this ridiculous dress first.
Isabella entered her room, only to find Ana pacing like someone waiting to explode.
"Ana?" Isabella asked softly.
Ana spun around. "Where have you been?" she snapped, all her calm gone.
"What did you do to the food?" Isabella blurted without thinking.
Ana's face twisted in disbelief. "Isabella, really? That's what you're asking?"
"I—I didn't mean—" Isabella stammered.
"I didn't expect this from you," Ana said sharply. "Your daughter has been rushed to the hospital. If you're looking for answers, go there."
She stormed out, slamming the door hard enough to rattle Isabella's bones.
The sound dragged Isabella back to reality.
"Ana… wait," she whispered to the closed door, guilt swallowing her whole.
Why did she speak without thinking? Why did she push away the only person she trusted?
Not everyone is wicked, she scolded herself.
Sometimes she was the problem.
Shaking, she changed her clothes quickly and ran out of the house.
She was going to the hospital.
She needed to see her daughter.
————
The moment Isabella reached the hospital corridor, the first thing she saw was Lucas.
He was curled up, sleeping peacefully in Nate's arms.
The sight shattered her.
A warm ache rose in her chest, tears burning her eyes.
Her little boy looked safe… protected… and she hadn't even been there.
"Nate…" she called softly, stopping a few steps away.
He lifted his head, met her gaze, and offered a small reassuring smile. He patted the seat beside him, but Isabella couldn't move. She bowed her head instead.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Nate pointed gently toward Sophia's ward. Isabella followed the gesture, her heart pounding. Nate was like a calm harbor in a storm, steady, kind, almost painfully gentle. His presence alone loosened the tight knot in her chest.
But as she pushed open Sophia's ward door, the entire world punched her in the stomach.
Alex was sitting at Sophia's bedside, clutching the little girl's hand with a trembling kind of desperation.
Sophia's tiny chest rose and fell weakly.
Isabella's tears overflowed.
My baby… What happened to you? Did you need me? Was I not there again?
A small sob escaped before Isabella could stop it.
Alex's head snapped up at the sound. But instead of relief… fury flooded his eyes. A cold, dangerous fury that made her chest tighten.
He stood and walked toward her, each step heavy with accusation.
"This is your daughter," he said, his voice like steel. "Look at her."
Isabella's lips trembled. "Alex… what do you mean?"
His jaw clenched so hard a vein pulsed in his temple.
"Just because you wanted to see her, you decided to use any means necessary? Even if it hurts her?"
"No....no" Isabella whispered, her whole body recoiling. "I don't understand…"
"Take a good look," Alex said, eyes burning into her.
"Because this will be your last look."
Her vision blurred instantly.
"No… Alex, I didn't do anything. I....I would never...."
"Enough."
His voice thundered through the room.
Alex pointed at the door with an authority that broke her.
"Get. Out."
The command echoed through the small hospital ward like a sentence.
Isabella froze, heart crumbling piece by piece. She wanted to argue, explain, beg, anything. But his eyes made it clear: nothing she said mattered.
"Alex… please..."
"Get out before I say something worse," he snapped.
Her breath hitched.
Her tears spilled.
Her world shattered.
Moving like someone whose soul had been ripped out, Isabella stepped back… then another step… until she was out of the room.
The door shut behind her with a controlled, final click, not a slam, but something worse.
A door that quietly told her:
You're no longer welcome in your own child's world.
Isabella stood there, shaking, staring at the closed door, feeling like it had slammed on her entire world.
Her brain couldn't catch up. Nothing made sense.
What happened? What did she do? Why was Alex looking at her like that?
She turned slowly, intending to walk away, but stopped when she saw Lucas again—still asleep in Nate's arms.
"Can… can I carry him?" Isabella asked, barely above a whisper. Even she sounded afraid of her own voice.
Nate didn't hesitate. He gently placed Lucas into her arms. Isabella held her son close, stunned and trembling.
"I'll figure this out," Nate said quietly, placing a soft, steadying hand over hers. "I'll get to the bottom of whatever happened. I won't let you take the fall."
Only when his warmth registered did Isabella jerk her hand back, startled.
"Thank you," she muttered, and this time she couldn't hold it together. The tears rolled freely.
Why is Alex like this?
Why can't he think? Why can't he listen?
Her child needed her, and yet Alex shoved her away like she was the danger.
Why couldn't Alex be like Nate, gentle, rational, someone who listened?
Isabella wiped her face with shaky fingers.
"I… I'll leave now," she whispered, reluctantly handing Lucas back.
But Lucas, even in sleep, clung to her dress, refusing to let go.
Her heart cracked. She pried his fingers off gently, forcing a tiny smile through her tears.
"Tell Alex… I'm going," she said quietly.
"He doesn't care," Nate replied, his voice clipped as he turned away. But the anger clearly wasn't aimed at her, it was for the man inside.
"I'll get to the bottom of this. You won't be the scapegoat," Nate said again, firm.
"Thank you," Isabella repeated. The words felt too small compared to the chaos choking her, but they were all she had.
She walked out of the hospital on unsteady feet, everything inside her spiraling, pain, confusion, fear.
"Do you want to get yourself killed?"
A woman yanked her back from the road Isabella had wandered into.
"Sorry…" Isabella whispered, barely conscious of anything.
She kept walking, half-dazed, half-broken, the air cold against her tear-stained face.
Upstairs, Alex stood at Sophia's door watching her leave through the ward window.
He hadn't heard her words, but he saw the devastation in her eyes, the way her shoulders shook, the way her steps faltered.
Something inside him twisted painfully.
Maybe she isn't the culprit…
The thought hit him hard.
Alex slid down the door, resting his back against it, his expression tight and conflicted.
Then another thought followed, cold, sharp, calculating:
If it wasn't Isabella… then who hurt my child?
- Writer
