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
"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
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
A sliver of golden light cut through the sheer drapes, tracing a thin path over the silk sheets. The scent of expensive cologne and last night’s champagne lingered in the air, mingling with the faintest trace of something forbidden. The world outside this penthouse was already awake cars honking, heels clicking against polished pavement but inside this gilded cage, time stood still.Belle Madrigal stirred, the cool satin against her bare skin a sharp contrast to the fevered heat of last night. Her mind felt thick, sluggish, as if swimming through the remnants of a dream. Then reality struck.She wasn’t in her own bed.Her lashes fluttered open, and the sight before her stole the breath from her lungs.A man stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, adjusting the cuffs of his crisp white shirt, his movements precise, unhurried like a king preparing for war. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his frame exuding raw power even in the simplest of gestures. Tousled dark hair framed a face so str
It was as chaotic within Belle Madrigal's heart as the storm outside. Fat drips raced down the glass of her tiny flat like tears she would not shed as the rain dashed against the windows. Long shadows were created by the bedside lamp's dull glow, which highlighted the bag that was lying open on the bed and partially full with the clothes she had stuffed inside just moments before. Her heartbeat sounded like thunder in her ears as she zipped up a black duffel bag, her hands shaking. She was unable to stay. No more. She had been wiped out by Alistair Kensington. As if she were inconsequential. She had been reliving the moment she called his office for days, how Gabrielle's icy tone had cut the thin thread that still held them together. No interaction. No recognition. Love, not from a man like him, was not what she had anticipated. However, she also hadn't anticipated being thrown out. The travel ticket on the nightstand was touched by her fingers. A flight to Seattle, one way. It
A sliver of cold light sliced through the darkness.Belle stirred, her body a battlefield of pain.Her limbs were leaden, her ribs screaming in protest at the mere attempt to move. A dull, throbbing ache pulsed through her skull, the sensation sharp and unforgiving. The sterile bite of hospital air filled her lungs, mingling with the distant beeping of machines that counted out the fragile rhythm of her existence.She was alive.The realization should have brought relief.Instead, dread coiled in her stomach like a snake, tightening its grip.Something was wrong.The sheets beneath her were crisp, the mattress too firm, the walls around her a clinical shade of white, too pristine, too controlled.This wasn’t her apartment.It wasn’t even the cheap motel where she’d planned to disappear, where she could vanish into the background of the world and never be found.No.This place was a cage.Belle forced her eyelids open, blinking against the oppressive fluorescence overhead. The room wav
The silence was the first thing Belle noticed. Not the quiet sort. The sort that crushed against her ribcage, making breathing difficult, the kind that was oppressive and deliberate. Her body was weak and aching from the crash's aftermath, and she struggled to open her heavy eyes. As though her brain was still attempting to reconstruct the shattered moments before everything had turned dark, a steady throbbing settled behind her skull. After forcing herself to stand, she became aware that something was off. The white, sterile walls. The luxurious linens that seemed too costly for a public medical facility. The gentle buzz of machinery, keeping an eye on her every move. She felt a knot in her stomach. Belle wasn't by herself. Near the window, a woman in a grey suit sat with a tablet on her lap. Her small lips were squeezed into a hard line, and her blond hair was twisted back into a tight bun, Not a nurse. Not a medical professional,A handler,Belle's pulse quickened. She d
The mansion loomed before her, an iron fortress disguised as luxury.Belle stood at the threshold, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. The air was thick with unspoken tension, the weight of her choices pressing against her chest.She had signed the contract.She had sealed her fate.Now, she was here.Alistair had said nothing on the drive back. Not a word.And she had been too exhausted to fight the silence.The butler, an older man with a face carved by time and discipline, stepped aside, ushering her into a world she didn’t belong to.Belle stepped forward, her shoes sinking into the plush marble floors. Chandeliers glowed above her, casting golden light against the towering bookshelves, the grand staircase, the portraits of Kensington ancestors who had ruled before Alistair.She didn’t belong here.She never would.Alistair strode ahead without looking back. “You’ll stay in the east wing.”Belle swallowed hard. “And you?”He paused at the foot of the stairs. Then,
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