"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
"No, Father," Alistair's voice was sharp with a frigidness that made Belle shiver. I will not act foolishly. But after the kid is delivered, we will make her gone. No one will ever know she lived. Belle's breath caught and her heart raced in her chest. She didn't dare to shift. She was unable to. His father's voice, harsh and unrelenting, said, "Alistair, the empire comes first." Any vulnerabilities cannot be allowed to appear. Though it is regrettable, the agreement with her is required; once it fulfils its goal, we may get rid of it. You will once more have power over everything. Belle's throat constricted as the room spun with understanding of the words. Regulate. For Alistair, that had always been all. His father had always viewed her as a tool, a means to an end, a pawn in their game. She was now on the verge of being thrown away once the infant came. Belle felt a rush of queasiness from Alistair's frigid, icy voice. I get it. Just do it. I will not allow emotion to cloud my
"Bernard?" Her voice shook and she hardly identified it as her own. Emerging from the darkness into the cabin, he replaced his normal serenity with a jaw stiffness. He was aware of what she lacked. "They've found us," Bernard murmured quietly, almost as if speaking it out loud would make it more real. Showing no signs of panic, he swiftly and methodically collected their belongings. Belle's breath became shallow and her chest constricted. Are you certain? Moving his attention to the little pack in his hands, Bernard ignored her. But his voice was strong. They are approaching closer. We have to go right now. Belle's gaze on the cabin door sent a shiver down her spine. Her thoughts raced: was it Alistair's team or someone else pursuing them? She believed she had purchased enough time. But suddenly, as the sounds of motors got closer, the dread she'd been hiding for so long erupted like a dark tide, rising to consume her whole. Panic made her pulse race. Could she outpace Alistair'
She had left. The sheets twisted about his legs as Alistair leapt out of bed. His chest constricting, he breathed quicker. Stumbling out of the bedroom and into the corridor, his head spun. He had to locate her right now. He had to understand why she was missing, what had occurred. He didn't even recall when she departed, undetected slipping from his side. The memories of their last moments together were a muddle, the drunken haze of the night before still clouding his mind. But down inside, something primitive knew. She was gone; he was to blame. Rushing down the corridor, his eyes searching every corner and every shadow, his heart raced with eagerness as if expecting her to materialise out of nowhere. But there was no one. There was no one in the house. A voice crackled over the intercom just as he got to the stairs. "Sir, we found her car. She is no longer here. He felt a sinking in his gut. The words suffocated him, hanging in the air. She had fled. She had truly run. A floo
"It's time," he replied gently, his voice steady. Come in. Belle gazed out the window, her face reflected in the glass, but her mind was far else. Was this the correct option? The query made her heart hurt. She had abandoned everything, the house she always dreamed of, her relationship to Alistair, the life she had lived. The idea alone seemed like a betrayal, but she realised she couldn't remain. She looked at Bernard, his face unreadable as he concentrated on the highway. "I don't know whether I can do this," she said softly, her voice almost inaudible. "I don't know whether I can ever forgive him." Though he remained silent for a long time, Bernard's hold on the wheel grew stronger. His hands were constant, his will obvious. At last, he stated in a gentle but strong voice, "You're doing what you have to do." No one can decide this for you. Alistair is not even close. His remarks hurt more than she had expected. Alistair had let her down, using her as a pawn in a power struggl
"You're here," he whispered quietly, moving forward to greet her. Low and heavy with their shared secret, Bernard spoke. Rugged with a sharp jawline and dark eyes that always seemed to be judging the world around him, he was a man in his forties. He had always been faithful to her, but now more than ever, his deeds would show whether that loyalty stretched deeper than simple obligation. Belle said, her voice strained with stress, "I had no choice." Though the dread of being found still ate at her insides, she had been getting ready for this day for weeks. I am prepared. You claimed you could assist me. Bernard nodded, his eyes darting anxiously to the passage's dark shadows. Everything is set up. You must believe me. That is the only approach. Belle was unsure. Bernard had been there when no one else had, therefore she wanted to trust him. But after hearing what she had from Rosalie, the fear of treachery was like a darkness hanging over every choice she made. Could she now genuine
"No, Father," Alistair's voice was sharp with a frigidness that made Belle shiver. I will not act foolishly. But after the kid is delivered, we will make her gone. No one will ever know she lived. Belle's breath caught and her heart raced in her chest. She didn't dare to shift. She was unable to. His father's voice, harsh and unrelenting, said, "Alistair, the empire comes first." Any vulnerabilities cannot be allowed to appear. Though it is regrettable, the agreement with her is required; once it fulfils its goal, we may get rid of it. You will once more have power over everything. Belle's throat constricted as the room spun with understanding of the words. Regulate. For Alistair, that had always been all. His father had always viewed her as a tool, a means to an end, a pawn in their game. She was now on the verge of being thrown away once the infant came. Belle felt a rush of queasiness from Alistair's frigid, icy voice. I get it. Just do it. I will not allow emotion to cloud my
"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
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
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
"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