The fire was alive and ravenous, crackling.As the flames consumed every page, every secret, and every truth that Belle had discovered, she stood motionless, her breath coming in short gasps.Silent and in control, Alistair stared.Without saying a word, he had removed the file from her hands and burned it in his study's fireplace, destroying proof like a deity erasing sin.Belle felt nothing but cold as the fire's heat lapped at her flesh."Belle, this isn't a game."Alistair had a low voice with a deadly edge.She balled her hands into fists. "That was, ""It's none of your business."Belle's chest grew constricted."Not a concern of mine?" The weight of her rage caused her voice to crack as it increased. Alistair, a woman has passed away. I discovered, Her heart skipped a beat when he turned on her.She was trapped in place by his dark, scorching eyes."What I let you find, you found."Belle's heart froze.A flutter of embers flew into the air between them as the fire burst.She s
The door swung open and she hardly had time to get used to her surroundings. Before her stood a woman, sophisticated in a subdued silver dress, her mouth tightly closed. Alistair's mother, Lucy Kensington, had a face that, despite its calm beauty, exuded control that made Belle's skin crawl. "Welcome to Kensington Manor," Lucy began, her voice smooth yet frigid, like a taught civility covering something far deeper. Her eyes followed Belle down and back, lingering too long on her messy appearance. "I hope your lodging will be... decent." Belle nodded, attempting to keep her cool, even while her gut turned over. She found words lodged in her throat. She was here, bound by a contract that would destroy her independence and spirit. She said, "Thank you," but the thanks were hollow. Lucy's smile eluded her sight. It never came close. It was the smile of a woman who had seen too much, who had been in charge for far too long. "Let me show you to your room," Lucy replied, gesturing Belle t
Alistair broke the quiet with a cold voice, "You must be wondering why you're here." "Belle is scheduled to be here for this meeting. She has a part to play going forward for Kensington Enterprises. Though no one ventured to speak aloud, a murmur permeated the room. Belle lowered her head to escape the men's stinging looks all around her. She was not experienced in board meetings, which showed. She lacked option, nevertheless. Her here was a quiet, subdued reminder of her relationship to Alistair. She transcended mere pawn in his game. She was his wife; her coming here was deliberate. "Belle, could you perhaps add something to the financial report?" One of the guys asked, his voice tinged with contempt. Belle felt her tummy turn over. His speech carried clear expectations: she was here to appear beautiful, not to help. She would not allow them, though, prevail. She leaned forward slightly, swallowing her discomfort, her voice calm despite the thumping in her chest. She started, "t
Her heart leaped in her breast as she turned abruptly to find a man standing just beyond the gates at the edge of the garden. The man wore shadows, his features covered by a broad-brimmed cap. He stayed still, yet there was something about his posture that made her spine quiver. As if he had been waiting for her to see him, he seemed to know she was watching him. Her immediate reaction was to turn away, to hide back into the mansion, but she discovered she was frozen unable to look away. Drawn by some invisible power, she moved slowly, warily toward him. The man lifted a hand as she got closer, something between his fingers. Noted. It fluttered in the breeze, then he threw it to her without saying. The paper was crumbled at the margins and scratchy. Belle unfolded the note, her fingertips gliding across the cool surface in her hands. The little message was scrawled in quickly penned ink. "You're not secure. Not even alongside him." Belle's breath halted. Her eyes returned to the
She said, "Alistair...," her voice almost audible over the storm. Her heart hammered in her chest, each instinct urging her to approach and submit. He answered no. His breath was a languid caress across her skin, his body so near she could feel the heat emanating from him. Closing her eyes, she got ready for anything, anything that would at last bring them closer. Then he withdrew, his visage stiffening, as if he were going to close the distance between them and felt the earth change. "No," he said, his voice taut with control. Belle opened her eyes, perplexity and annoyance building in her chest. What,? "Stay away from me, Belle," he said with a sharp and definitive tone. You are not sure what you are doing. She back off; the words stinging more than she had anticipated. She had felt it too, the draw between them, the unspoken tension, but suddenly it felt as though the air had thickened, forcing her away from him with a power she couldn’s comprehend. Though his words were in l
Alistair's voice pierced the quiet, low and merciless, "I told you to stay out of it." The words came out as a directive, as though he expected her to turn in. "Your battle is not this one." Though Belle's heart accelerated, she refused to turn around. His comments lacked the ability to terrify her any more. He had no say on what she might or could not do. "I'm not afraid of you, Alistair," she responded, her voice firm but somewhat rebellious. Though she could sense his wrath boiling behind her, she would not be intimidated. Alistair's breath stopped, and in the dark corridor there was just the sound of their breathing momentarily. He trailed just a few feet behind her, his weight nearly stifling. You should be, he said softly. But Belle wanted no more fear. She was not the lady he had sought to break or the one he had fled years ago. No, she would stay her ground this time. Whether he was chilly, remote, or enraged, she didn't give a damn. She turned to meet him. Though his sil
Sitting around the table, the board members watched her; some were curious, some dubious. Seated at the head of the table, Alistair looked not upward. His expression as impenetrable as always, his posture was stiff. She was not here for him though. She was here to convince herself she belonged. She could go above the murmurs that trailed after her every stride, the uncertainty hovering over her action. She offered her idea, a creative approach to increase the online portfolio of the business. Belle spoke with assurance, every statement deliberates, every concept more interesting than the next. Except for the sporadic tapping of pens against paper as the board members took down notes, the room was quiet. There was a moment of astonished quiet just before she finished. The board members then turned one by one, their expressions moving from incredulity to appreciation. Belle's suggestion was wise. The concepts were original, audacious, exactly what Kensington Enterprises needed to keep
She almost ran into a man in basic navy shirt and pants as she turned the bend. Dark-haired and with a quiet professionalism, he was shorter than Alistair. Still, his eyes revealed another picture. Behind them was something strong, something not fit for this modern, polished edifice. "Mrs. Madrigal??" The man spoke in a low, almost quiet voice, as though he may be overheard. Certainly? Belle hesitated, perplexed by his abrupt presence. He looked unlike one of the security guards, and his casual clothes stood out from the neat suits of the Kensington personnel. "I'm Julian," he said, his face inscrutable. "My line of employment is IT. From looking over your file, I understand what happened. He looked over his shoulder to be sure nobody else was listening. "Miss Madrigal, someone put those files there. And you were not among them. Belle felt her pulse speed up. "What?" Are you sure? Julian nodded sadly. Though I lack all the specifics, I have been running server log diagnostics. Th
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