Chapter 2
2127 Words
The city hummed around Isabella as she climbed the narrow staircase to Lucas’s apartment. She had texted him hours ago, desperate, pleading for help. No reply. Every ignored message twisted in her gut, gnawing like fire. Her pulse hammered. Why isn’t he answering?
Her fingers shook as she fitted the spare key into the lock. Lucas had given it to her months ago, joking that she was “family.” She had never needed it like this before. She hesitated only a moment—then turned the key, pushed the door open, and stepped inside. The apartment was quiet at first, deceptively calm. She called his name softly: “Lucas?”
Then she heard it.
The gasps, the sharp intake of breath, the slick, urgent rhythm of bodies moving together. Panic and nausea coiled in her gut, but something forced her forward. She crept to the bedroom, her steps heavy, hesitant. And then—she pushed the door open.
The scene hit her with full force.
Lucas and Natalie were on the bed, naked, slick with sweat. Every curve, every glistened muscle, every trembling gasp and moan tore through her chest like knives. Their bodies moved together with a desperate, raw urgency. And the smell—s*x, sweat, heat—was suffocating, oppressive, impossible to ignore.
Lucas froze immediately, sweat slicking his hair and chest. He scrambled upright, hands reaching out. “Bella… what are you doing here?! I can explain—”
Her stomach twisted, bile rising. “Explain? Explain this?” She shook, tears and fury mixing in her eyes. “You… you’re here! Naked! Sweaty! With her!My best friend? How could you do this? How could you betray me like this?”
He stepped forward, desperate, body still glistening, every part of him exposed, and tried to plead. “Bella, I… I didn’t mean—”
“Didn’t mean it?!” she screamed, her voice raw and shaking. “I trusted you! I came to you, and this—this is what you do? You’re slick with sweat, with her, making love—or whatever you call this—right here! Right in front of everything we had!”
The room spun. Her breath came in ragged gasps, chest heaving. Her hands fisted the doorframe as though it could anchor her to reality. Every inch of her body burned with revulsion, heartbreak, and primal fury.
She wanted to hit, scream, destroy. The sight, the smell, the betrayal—it all pressed on her like a physical weight. How could you? How could they do this to me?
Lucas reached for her again, trembling. “Bella… please, just listen—”
“I don’t want to hear it!” Her voice cracked, raw, guttural. “I don’t want to see you, touch you, or even breathe the same air as you ever again!You deserve each other!!!”
The heat, the sweat, the smell of s*x—it was everywhere, clinging to her skin, burning in her nostrils, making her stomach twist violently. She stumbled backward, almost collapsing, tears streaming freely.
And then she ran.
She slammed the door behind her so hard the frame rattled. Every nerve in her body screamed. Her chest heaved, lungs burning from the desperate, uneven breaths. She didn’t look back. She couldn’t. The apartment, Lucas, Natalie—everything—had become a furnace of betrayal, and she needed to escape.
The city swallowed her. Neon lights blurred into streaks as if the world itself had melted. Horns blared, tires screeched, people shouted, but she barely registered any of it. Her legs pumped faster, heels clicking sharply against wet pavement. Her heart pounded like a drum, each beat sending shockwaves of rage and humiliation through her body.
Her mind replayed the image over and over: Lucas, naked, pleading, sweat slick on his skin. Natalie, pressing against him. The suffocating smell of s*x and sweat. She could still feel it—almost taste it—like a metallic tang of betrayal in the back of her throat. Her stomach twisted violently, nausea clawing at her insides. Every step drove adrenaline deeper into her veins, her muscles trembling with tension.
She ducked into an alley, pressing herself against cold brick, letting her body catch up with her lungs. Her hair stuck to her damp forehead, and sweat mingled with tears streaking down her cheeks. Her hands shook, clawing at the fabric of her coat, desperate to feel something solid, something real. Rage and grief warred inside her, raw and primal, leaving her trembling and breathless.
How could he do this? How could she? How could I have been so blind? The questions screamed through her mind, relentless, merciless. Her chest ached. Her throat burned. Every part of her body wanted to scream, to fight, to throw herself at something, anything, to purge the pain.
She stumbled back onto the street, body swaying with exhaustion and fury. The city pulsed around her, lights reflecting off puddles in distorted shards. Her heartbeat synced with the chaotic rhythm of the metropolis. She wanted to disappear, to dissolve into the crowd, to vanish from the suffocating weight of betrayal.
Her hands shook violently as she dug her phone out of her coat pocket. Her thumbs hovered over the screen. A message notification blinked urgently. It was from her parents.
"Bella… please, think about Alexander. We know you hate the idea, but we have no other choice. Your family is on the brink. He can save us. Please… don’t push this aside. —Mom & Dad"
Her chest tightened. She sank onto a nearby bench, staring at the glowing screen as if it were a lifeline and a curse all at once. Her fingers trembled. Part of her wanted to throw the phone, to scream at them for even suggesting it. But another part—desperate, terrified—recognized the truth in their words.
Her parents were pleading. Her family was at risk. She couldn’t ignore that. Not now. Not after everything.
Her mind was a storm—rage at Lucas, disgust at Natalie, humiliation, grief—but somewhere underneath it all, a spark of clarity emerged. Alexander Blackwood. Billionaire, untouchable, enigmatic… and maybe, just maybe, a way to save her family.
She exhaled shakily. The night air bit at her face, carrying with it the distant roar of the city, and she felt the weight of her choice pressing down like a physical force. She didn’t know if she was ready, or if she could trust him, or even if her heart could survive this again—but her family couldn’t wait.
Her phone buzzed again, insistent. Without thinking, almost automatically, she typed:
"When do I mert him?"
The city hummed around her, neon lights reflecting off puddles like fractured stars. She rose unsteadily, heart hammering, legs shaking. Somewhere, in the shadows of the city skyline, a light flickered—a promise, a threat, an unknown world she was about to step into.
She didn’t yet know what Alexander Blackwood had planned—or if she could survive the man she was about to meet.
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