"Miss Madrigal," he said softly but urgently. "You shouldn't depart yet." Belle stopped dead still, glancing about naturally. "why? What do you imply?" The butler's gaze flicked uncomfortably over his shoulder then he moved forward. "The Kensingtons cover things. Events darker than you are aware of." Her pulse accelerated and a cold crawled down her spine. Her voice tight with discomfort, she questioned, "What are you talking about?" He bent in, his breath hardly audible as he whispered. "Do you find out what happened to Alistair's sister?" Her heart skipped. Such a person was unheard of to her. Isla Alistair's mother had always seemed to be the matriarch; her influence was overwhelming. A sister, though? The riddle grew more complex, and the butler's eyes clearly showed worry. "What happened to her??" Belle pressed, now driven by a terrible curiosity. The butler hesitated even though his lips parted as if he wanted to speak more. Then he replied, in a voice hardly above a whis
"Belle," he said, his voice low and silky. It has been far too long. She battled to keep her calm and swallowed. "What are you doing here, Bernard? " Her voice came out more steadily than she had anticipated, but as it swept a lock of hair off her face, her hand trembled. Bernard's lips curved into a known smile that had once melted her heart. Belle, I have been searching for you. I never paused. She felt the words strike her like a stomach-punch. Searching for her, he had been Why exactly now? Once all these years have passed? A harsh voice sliced across the room before she could reply. So, oh, well. Look who's returned; Evangeline stood at the doorway grinning smugly on her face. Her eyes furrowed as they passed between Bernard and Belle. Belle straightened; her back straight as she turned to meet Evangeline. She felt the usual sense of rivalry flickering inside her; she had not seen this tension still present. But the fact that Bernard was back worried Evangeline more than he
Alistair, you ought never to have kissed her. With narrowed eyes and a deadly smile curling her lips, Evangeline stood at the threshold. Her voice clearly carried malice, and the strain between them was strong enough to cut right through. When Belle saw Evangeline, her stomach turned like a sharp knife pressed to the incision Alistair had just opened in her heart. "You'll regret this," Evangeline said in a whisper but with great force. Alistair stiffly stood; his jaw tightened. "It's not your concern, Evangeline," he shot, his voice slicing across the room like a razor. You never will and you do not own me. Alistair's voice was frigid, meant for Evangeline rather than Belle at this point, yet the words hung thick in the air, as though he were attempting to persuade himself more than anybody else. Anger, uncertainty, frustration, a tsunami of feeling, pounded Belle through. She had never felt this exposed, this vulnerable in front of anyone, and most definitely not in front of Alis
Icy spoken, he said to the executive, "Excuse me." We will have to carry on with this later. A jolt of fire rushed through her shoulder, robbing her breath. The agony was acute, perhaps too acute. Her breath seized and for a little moment she couldn't even grasp what had occurred. The only thing she could sense was the excruciating heat sweeping across her body like wildfire. Her eyesight wavered, her legs turning to jelly under her, and she gasped. Her knees gave way. Unable to prevent herself from falling, she slowly fell to the ground. Her fingers sought for anything to grasp, but the glossy marble floor was too far. The jagged edge of the floor gnawed into her skin as her body fell like a ragdoll. Though there was something more awful, something different, the bullet's agony was blinding. The chill of the floor penetrated her, but it was not strong enough to dull the suffering gnawing at her head. Gasping and fighting for breath, her chest heaving with the strain and her pulse
"She's stable for now," the doctor stated gently, meeting his gaze. The bullet wound is serious, though. She has bled a great deal. The larger issue, then, is her pregnancy. Alistair's gaze grew wide. The infant? The word strange, his voice breaking, like if it didn't belong to him. The doctor shook his head gravely. "She's in danger. We cannot be sure the infant is still viable given the major trauma. Though her situation is serious, we are doing all we can. The room appeared to tilt under him, and he grabbed the wall, the truth of the circumstance crashing over him like a tidal wave. His heart ached like if his actual chest was too tight to contain the breath he was fighting to inhale. His words hardly came out as he said, "Can she... can she survive?" The doctor's expression grew more serious. We are trying our hardest. But at the moment, it's touch and go. She might lose the baby… or worse. Every stride was quick as he took out his phone and down the corridor he strolled. Di
Gabrielle's voice sliced through the stillness like a sharp knife. You are wrong. Alistair tensed, his mouth clenching at her comments. Wordlessly, he turned to confront her, his eyes black with unexpressed anger. His voice tight, he said, "I'm doing what has to be done." I will locate who caused this. I will see to it that they suffer. Gabrielle moved nearer, her face a blend of worry and annoyance. Alistair, do you really believe this fanatical quest will give you peace? Though her voice softened, her comments struck more forcefully than any charge. You're just digging your own grave. Her gaze never left Alistair, Gabrielle studied him intently. Tall and imposing as always, he stood there, but the fissures in his normally impenetrable front were obvious. Belle's illness was weighing on him, the guilt driving him crazy; she could tell he was coming apart. Haven't you always believed that control was the solution? Though sharp, Gabrielle's voice was steady. But see where it has l
Gabrielle's voice, quiet but forceful, shattered the stillness: "Belle." I have to talk to you. Belle hesitated, fingers gripping the hem of her dress, but she nodded and came closer. There was something about Gabrielle that always made her uneasy, something too keen, too aware. The unspoken words hanging between them like a dense cloud, the tension in the air, she could feel as she came closer. Belle replied, her voice cautious but interest beginning to grow in her heart, "I'm listening." Gabrielle's eyes moved across the garden, absorbing the surrounding loveliness before looking back to Belle. "Alistair is dangerous," she murmured, her words slicing through the quiet like a dagger. You are only a pawn in his game; he is domineering and manipulating. Belle's heart raced. The words struck her more than she had anticipated. Gabrielle wouldn't let her talk so she opened her mouth to answer. Gabrielle said in a low whisper, "Don't pretend you don't see it." "You have already experi
"I was never allowed to love anyone," he said again, his voice dropping and a hint of remorse seeping into his words. Not even you. Belle sat quietly, taking in Alistair's admission's gravity. Every statement echoed through her, distorting her view of the guy she had known, the man she had loved. His face contorted with sorrow and rage as she observed him intently. Raw and exposed, devoid of the control he clung to so fiercely, this was a side of him I had not seen before. "My father... he never gave me a choice," Alistair said, his voice strained as if the words were fighting to break free. Fighting the overpowering wave of feeling threatening to engulf him, his hands became white-knuckled fists. He ordered every aspect of my existence. The business, the marriage, the individuals I could rely on... all of it was his design. His might. Belle's heart sank. She had always understood that Alistair carried a weight, that the empire he built came at a great cost, but hearing him talk of
Theodore's eyes adapted to the dim light; he saw files that appeared to draw him closer, boxes coated in cobwebs, and shelves brimming with old volumes. Walking toward the far corner of the room, he found a wooden cabinet half-hidden beneath piles of papers. Theodore cautiously unlocked the cabinet as his fingers glided across its surface. Though their contents were far from usual, inside were dozens of file folders, each carefully labeled. Pulling one off the shelf, its label worn but readable: Kensington Family History, his heart raced. Though the final folder at the bottom drew his attention, the files were packed with information, birth records, bank paperwork, old photographs. His fingers quivering with expectation, he opened it carefully. There, in a tattered paper, was his father's birth record. The tidy writing covered the fundamentals: date, place, surname. Theodore hesitated, though, at the way the paper crinkled and felt more weighty than the rest. He looked down at the
"Your mother loves you very much, Theodore," Lucy replied, her voice soft. But she doesn't always know what's best for you. She's... you know, emotional. Occasionally, her choices are focused on emotions rather than what is best for your future. Theodore looked up from his play to see his grandmother. Though he didn't quite get them, he felt their words sink into his chest. His mother had always been nice and protective; how could anything she did be incorrect? Lucy's tone became more personal as she leaned forward a bit. Haven't you heard your father talk about all the great things he can give you? The journeys, the knowledge, the life he has guaranteed you. Still, your mother prevents you from experiencing any of it. Theodore, why? Doesn't that make you question whether she actually knows what is best? Theodore stared at the goodies before him, his head spinning with uncertainty. He had never considered his mother in such a manner. Lucy’s comments put something fresh, something a
Belle stood in front of the mirror, her reflection looking back at her with a mix of surprise and determination. Alistair's courtroom fight had finished in his favor, and she felt as though the walls were closing in on her. The man meant to safeguard her and their children was suddenly the one actually endangering their family disintegration. Every day spent with him served as a reminder that he controlled everything: her, Theodore, and all else. But not any more. She had decided. Belle walked across the room, ignoring the papers strewn over the desk. Running through the processes in her head, her heart raced and her thoughts raced. She could not remain here. Not in this home, not with him. The idea of Theodore maturing under Alistair's control made one cringe. The orders, the control, the cruel comments she could already hear. Her gaze remained fixed on the little suitcase by the bed. She had packed it before, just in case, but now it was more than just a precaution. It was all th
"Should I open it?" he whispered to himself, nearly as if seeking permission. Staring back at him from the tablet's screen, his reflection showed eyes wide with the burden of his own choices. He tapped the first file without allowing himself another opportunity to reconsider. A screen for passwords showed up. Theodore looked over his shoulder and leaned back in his chair to make sure no one was around. He had to be cautious as he had no idea what sort of havoc he was about to cause. Typing in a few possibilities, names, dates, the keys on the screen felt alien under his touch. Then, on a hunch, he attempted his mother's birthday. The file opened and the screen flickered. Cold, clinical, a thorough study of the Kensington family's financial activities, a list of assets and holdings, the paper's contents were One aspect, however, drew his notice: his own birth. The day. The frigid, distant tongue. "Theodore Kensington," the paper started, "born under dubious conditions. Unfortunate
"Belle Blackwell," the bailiff shouted. In the sterile quiet, her name reverberated. Her breathing was shallow and fast as she stepped toward the witness stand, straightening her back. Every step seemed to be a fight. Her eyes found Alistair's as she sank into the seat. As his lawyer sifted through paperwork, his lips curled into a little smirk. The only thing that stopped her from stumbling was the idea of her son and his innocent eyes. For him, she had to remain resilient. The seductive voice previously known, Alistair's attorney stood up. We are here today, ladies and gentlemen of the court, to talk about little Theodore Blackwell's custody. The one who can offer the most stable, safe atmosphere holds a child's destiny in their hands. Belle Blackwell, we all know, Alistair's side rippled with a whisper of appreciation. His eyes stayed on hers as he reclined back. Belle swallowed, the metal flavor in her mouth. He was so certain of himself. He had overplanned this. The voice of
Belle, you should have come to me voluntarily, Alistair said, his voice ringing in her head, cool and collected. You will now pay the cost. Her eyes flew open. Like a burden in her chest, Alistair's words stuck to her. His constant desire to control her life had never changed; now, with Theodore's future in jeopardy, she was compelled to face the precise thing she had been fleeing. A chill crept up her back. Theodore was not something she could lose. She would not. The door behind her creaked open; she spun around, half-expecting to find Alistair waiting there to finally take her down. It was just the office's stillness, though. The room was also filled with the soft hum of the air conditioning, too calm, too quiet. Alistair's warning hung in the air, suffocing her. She had to act quickly. Every second mattered. But one thing she was certain of: she wasn't going to make it simple for him. This time, she would not give in. She would battle. Buzzing on the desk, Belle's phone brok
Belle's pulse hammered as she dashed to the window, her gaze scanning the street underneath. Though the street seemed deserted, the sun was lowering, throwing deep shadows over the sidewalk. No indication of Alistair. No indication of any suspicious person. Her breath caught and for a time she believed she could hear her pulse in her ears. Trying to see over the vacant street, she pressed her palm against the chilly glass and pushed closer to the window. It was too silent. Too still. The fear that had been hiding in the back of her mind finally sank into the pit of her stomach. He has been observing us all along. Alistair had always known where they sat. She had been so thorough and careful, yet it was never enough. The idea of him constantly a step ahead, lurking close by, made her skin crawl. Feeling the walls of her tiny office closing in on her, she moved back from the window. How long had he been following them? How long had he been this near? Turning, she attempted to gather
"Belle," Bernard's voice sounded low and frantic. Worried, he entered the room. We have to talk. Belle remained still. She already understood his remarks. The moment Alistair's name crossed her mind again, she had sensed it approaching. Though she had been attempting to ignore it, Bernard's gaze informed her it was genuine. It was going on. Bernard went on, "Alistair's fixation is not something that disappears. He will not rest till he has his desire. Her heart hammering in her chest, Belle rose slowly. Her fingers clutched the edge of her desk firmly as she gazed out the window. I had known that for some time. Running is not something I can do always. Bernard moved closer and his eyes softened. You cannot keep him away. He will not stop, Belle. You have to get ready. He's coming; when he arrives, it will be worse than before. She tried to hold back the tears by swallowing hard. To create a life outside of Alistair's reach, she had worked really hard to safeguard Theodore. Every
The phone rang twice before Bernard answered, his voice harsh with desperation. Belle? Are you all right? "I don't know," she said, trembling. Alistair is present. He's returned. I, She broke off, sensing the tears about to flow. Steadying herself, she took a long breath. Bernard, I can no longer run. Not like this, I can't guard him. Bernard said fast, "Don't panic." Where are you? "I'm in the office," she said, her gaze flitting to the window. The outer world seemed far away, strange to her now. I believed I had time. I assumed he wouldn't locate us. The other end of the line hesitated. Then Bernard spoke again, low and somber. You don't get it, Belle. Alistair will not rest. Theodore will be pursued by him. He's going to try to get him. Her belly fell. The words struck her more than she had anticipated. Theodore Her child. He was all she had left, everything that counted. The idea of losing him, of Alistair snatching him from her, was enough to make her knees go weak. Her voi