SECOND CHANCE - Love Beyond Betrayal

Unexpected Encounters

Isabelle clenched her bag on her shoulder, deciding to ignore him as she crossed the street swiftly toward the bakery. She could see the sign ahead and focused on getting inside, where she would feel safer.

As she entered the bakery, the warm, comforting aroma of fresh bread and pastries enveloped her, offering a brief moment of solace. The tension in her shoulders eased, just a little.

She made her way over to the muffin section, scanning for the chocolate ones her dad had asked for. Just as she spotted them, she heard a deep, masculine voice beside her.

"Well, if you don’t have that much, then pack whatever’s left," the man said.

Isabelle turned her head slightly, curiosity getting the better of her. The voice belonged to a tall figure dressed in a dark navy tuxedo. He stood with an air of authority, as if the entire bakery existed solely to serve him. The sight irked her, but she quickly refocused.

Ignoring him, she asked the shop assistant to pack a dozen chocolate muffins.

"Sorry, miss, we’re out of stock," the teenage girl behind the counter replied, her voice hesitant.

"What do you mean you have none left?" Isabelle asked, shocked and frustrated.

"The gentleman here bought them all," the girl explained, gesturing toward the man who was now busy typing something on his phone—completely unaware, or maybe just indifferent, to the chaos he'd caused.

Isabelle's mouth hung open for a second. Of all days...

"Can you please tell him to buy something else?" Isabelle asked, her frustration barely contained.

"Sorry, ma'am, that's out of my reach. I can’t tell a customer that," the shop girl replied, looking apologetic but firm.

Just as Isabelle was about to argue, Sebastian finished his text and looked up at the shop assistant. "Miss, can I get my order, please? I'm actually in a hurry," he said in a calm, authoritative voice.

Isabelle glanced at him and, swallowing her irritation, decided to try a different approach. "Excuse me, Mister," she began, taking a step closer. "By any chance, could you reconsider your order? You see, I really need those chocolate muffins. It’s kind of urgent."

Sebastian looked at her, his brow slightly raised as if he hadn’t even noticed her before. If not for his grandfather's command, he wouldn't have had to buy some sorry-for-being-late sweets. He knew how much his grandpa Phil valued punctuality, especially during such gatherings.

Sebastian's gaze softened slightly as he took in her flustered expression. "Urgent?" he asked, as though the idea of muffins being a critical matter was something new to him.

"Yes," Isabelle nodded, trying her best to appear calm despite the anxiety brewing inside her. "It's... for my kids. They really love them, and I promised to bring them today." She came up with the best lie no one could refuse.

Being an author truly has its own perks.

Sebastian studied her for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle, more to himself than to her. "Alright," he finally said, surprising her. "You can have them. I’ll just get something else."

Isabelle blinked, not expecting the quick agreement. "Really? You’d do that?"

"Sure," he shrugged. "It’s just muffins," he added with a teasing smirk, signaling to the shop assistant to cancel his order.

"Thank you so much. You made my day," Isabelle said, her tone filled with genuine relief.

The shop girl packed their orders, and with another thank you to Sebastian, Isabelle made her way toward the door. However, she didn't exit the bakery immediately. She glanced around, checking for any sign of that p*****t.

As she stepped outside, Isabelle searched for a taxi but found none.

"We can share a taxi. I'll drop you off wherever you want, babe," came a familiar, revolting voice from behind her.

The last string of Isabelle’s patience snapped. The bag of muffins she was holding dropped to the ground as she turned and punched the man squarely in the left eye, making him stagger back.

"I told you to leave me alone!" Isabelle shouted, her voice echoing down the street.

Just as she threw the punch, Sebastian exited the bakery with his bag of pastries, witnessing the entire scene in awe.

The p*****t, now furious, tried to march toward Isabelle, his intent clear, but she was quicker. She kicked him straight in the groin, her childhood karate lessons paying off in spades.

"I told you to leave me alone. Why is that so hard to understand? Nothing good has happened in the past 24 hours, so if you give me one more reason... I. Will. Kill. You."

"You're crazy!" the man gasped, taking a step back.

"So what if I am?" Isabelle stepped forward, her fear completely gone. She had tolerated him for too long.

"Leave. Now." Her eyes filled with murderous intent, her voice left no room for argument.

The man limped away, but the pain in his groin slowed him down. He turned, gesturing wildly with his hands to signal she was crazy. Isabelle, unfazed, gave him the middle finger and sat on a bench near the bakery, her hands shaking from the adrenaline and the pain of having punched someone with all her might.

Sebastian, who had been observing the entire ordeal, approached her. He bent down, picked up her bag of muffins, and asked, "Miss, are you okay?"

Isabelle's head was cradled in her uninjured hand, while her other shook like a leaf. "Yes," she replied curtly before her phone rang again. It was her father.

"Yes, Dad?" she answered, her tone softening instantly as she cleared her throat and coughed slightly. The sudden shift in her demeanor, from fierce and defensive to gentle and obedient, shocked Sebastian.

"I'm on my way, Dad, but I might be a little late," Isabelle said.

"Mr. Phil will be here in no time. When you arrive, come through the backyard door, okay?" her father instructed.

"What? He's already on his way?" Isabelle's voice revealed her surprise.

"Yes, and if you don't want to get a scolding from your grandfather, do as I say. Come through the backyard and get dressed in the guest room. Your mother has arranged everything there. We can't risk it since we don’t know when Mr. Phil will be at the doorstep," her father advised. He was the only one in the family who truly supported her every independent decision.

"Okay, Dad. I'll do that," she replied, cutting the call.

'Is she a split personality or something?' Sebastian wondered, watching her closely. He had been observing her the entire time, intrigued by the drastic change in her tone. The girl who had just punched a man senseless on the street now sounded like the picture of compliance and respect when talking to her father.

"Your kids' muffins," Sebastian said, intentionally holding out the bag toward her.

Isabelle blinked for a moment, confused—kids? Then realization hit her, and she snatched the bag from him hastily.

"Yeah, thanks."

"That was a lie, wasn't it?" Sebastian asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He was perceptive and could easily see through her story.

"Honestly," Isabelle admitted, rubbing her temples in frustration, "these muffins are the only good thing that has happened to me since last night. And that p*****t ruined my morning. On top of that, I have a long, drawn-out battle waiting for me at home."

Sebastian studied her for a moment, the amusement in his eyes giving way to understanding. "Well, I guess a dozen chocolate muffins is a small victory," he said with a shrug, his voice laced with a touch of sympathy.

"I wish I could agree, but these are for the guests, not for me," Isabelle sighed, her exhaustion evident as she glanced at the bag of muffins. She felt the weight of expectation bearing down on her, and it was almost suffocating.

She paused, considering something, then added, "Thanks for giving them up. I didn’t expect someone like you to be so... flexible."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. "Someone like me?"

Isabelle let out a soft, amused laugh. "You know what I mean," she replied, though she didn’t elaborate. With a quick grab of her things, she turned and headed toward the door, steeling herself for the next ordeal waiting at home.

Sebastian watched her leave, standing in the middle of the bakery, more intrigued than before. He wondered what kind of person could be both fierce and fragile at the same time, navigating a world of conflicts with a steady grace that was almost puzzling.

Her resilience was captivating, and he found himself wanting to know more about the woman who had just faced down her fears with a punch and a kick.

"She seems full of surprises," he muttered to himself, shaking his head before turning back to his own matters. Yet, despite himself, she lingered in his thoughts longer than he expected.