The Marital blows by Itoro Isaac

Marital Blows — Episode One The rain came down in silver sheets, streaking against the penthouse windows like tears someone refused to shed. Isabella Grant stood barefoot in the kitchen, her silk nightgown clinging to her body as she gripped the marble counter. The city sprawled below, glittering in the night — a perfect view of a perfect life. But perfection was a lie, and tonight, that lie was cracking. The front door slammed. She flinched. Alexander Grant, billionaire tech visionary, walked in with the sharp scent of rain clinging to his tailored suit. His tie was loosened, his jaw tight. His dark hair was damp, and his eyes — those steel-gray eyes that had once made her heart stutter — looked like a storm rolling in. “Still awake?” His voice was calm, too calm. “I couldn’t sleep.” She didn’t look at him at first. She couldn’t. Instead, she studied the wine glass in front of her, half-full and untouched. Alexander dropped his phone onto the counter, the sound loud in the silence. “Isabella,” he said finally, his tone clipped, “we need to talk.” Her laugh was bitter, humorless. “That’s rich. You’re never home before midnight. Now you want to talk?” He braced his hands on the counter opposite her, leaning in. “You sent that email.” Her fingers tightened on the stem of the glass. “I did.” “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” His voice was low, dangerous — not loud, not yet, but there was an edge that cut her all the same. “I know exactly what I’ve done.” She lifted her chin, meeting his glare. “I warned you, Alex. If you went through with that merger, it would destroy people. Families. Entire towns would lose their jobs, their homes — and you wouldn’t even blink.” “This isn’t about jobs,” he snapped. “It’s about protecting the company. Protecting us.” “Protecting us?” She let out a sharp breath. “You mean protecting your empire. Your legacy. Don’t pretend this is about our marriage. Our marriage is the one thing you never protect.” He recoiled slightly, as though she had struck him. The muscles in his jaw worked as he stared at her, fury barely leashed. “You went behind my back.” The words were quiet, but the weight of them landed like a blow. “You stopped listening to me a long time ago,” she whispered. For a moment, neither of them moved. The rain was the only sound, tapping against the windows like a metronome counting down to something explosive. Alexander straightened, running a hand over his face. “Do you think this was easy for me? Every deal I make, every risk I take — it’s for you, Isabella. For us.” “Don’t put that on me.” Her voice cracked, anger and hurt tangled together. “I didn’t ask you to build an empire, Alex. I just wanted you. I wanted the man who used to laugh with me in that tiny apartment in Brooklyn, the man who held my hand like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.” He stared at her, his expression unreadable. “That man didn’t have anything. Didn’t have the power to protect you.” “I didn’t need protecting,” she said, stepping closer. “I needed loving.” Something shifted in his face, a flash of pain before the mask came back down. “You think love keeps us safe? You think love pays for the lawyers, or the security, or the board members who want me gone?” “I think love is the only reason any of it should matter!” she cried. For a long beat, silence reigned. Then he turned away, his back to her, staring out at the city lights. His reflection in the glass looked like a man made of stone. “Isabella,” he said finally, his tone soft but cold, “you can’t keep undermining me. If you do, this marriage…” He didn’t finish, but the unfinished threat hung in the air between them. Her throat tightened. “You’re giving me an ultimatum?” “I’m asking you to choose,” he said, turning back to face her. “Are you with me, or are you against me?” The question knocked the air from her lungs. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him she had always been with him, even when it cost her. But right now, standing in the kitchen of the penthouse that felt more like a cage, she wasn’t sure she knew who he was anymore — or who she was with him. She set the wine glass down with a soft click. “I’m with what’s right,” she said quietly. Alexander’s jaw clenched. He grabbed his phone and jacket, his movements sharp. “Then maybe we’re not on the same side.” He left without another word, the echo of the door closing ringing louder than any shouting match ever could. --- The apartment was too quiet after he was gone. Isabella sank into one of the barstools, pressing a hand to her forehead. The fight replayed in her head like a cruel film reel, every word sharper in memory. Her phone buzzed on the counter. A message from her best friend, Sofia. > SOFIA: How bad was it? Isabella stared at the screen before typing back. > ISABELLA: Bad. > SOFIA: Do you want me to come over? She hesitated. She wanted to say yes, to have someone hold her together when she felt like she was shattering. But instead, she typed: > ISABELLA: No. I just… need to think. She put the phone down, standing to stare out at the rain-soaked skyline. Somewhere out there, Alexander was probably pacing in his office, already planning his next move, already strategizing how to fix the fallout from her actions. She didn’t regret what she’d done. But she regretted how it felt — like she was losing him piece by piece, like every choice they made was pushing them further apart. Isabella wrapped her arms around herself, not sure if she was protecting her heart or holding the pieces of it together. Tonight was just one fight. But she knew — deep down, in the place she didn’t dare admit aloud — that it wouldn’t be the last. This was only the beginning.