Sebastian is back!
Isabel’s POVA grin spread across his face, wide and self-assured. He placed a hand over his heart and gave a slight bow, his voice playful but tinged with sincerity.“Elias Woods, at your service.”The name hit me like a thunderclap, my breath catching in my chest. Woods.“It’s really you!” I exclaimed, my voice a mix of astonishment and relief. A smile broke through my initial nervousness, an unexpected balm to the tension that had taken root in my chest.Elias’s grin softened, his eyes gleaming with warmth. “It’s me.”I felt a strange mixture of emotions—gratitude, disbelief, and an undeniable sense of connection to the man who had once saved my life. But beneath all that, there was still unease. His sudden appearance couldn’t just be a coincidence.“I’m so glad you’re safe,” I murmured, my voice thick with sincerity. Memories of the chaos that had brought us together, of Margot’s terrified eyes and Sebastian/Elias’s calm resolve, surged through me.He nodded, his grin fading into
Isabel’s POV“Isa, what are you doing?” Emerson’s voice broke through the tense silence as he stepped into the room. His sharp gaze landed on me, standing awkwardly in front of the bathroom door. I was painfully aware that my posture was far too rigid to appear casual.My heart raced, hammering against my ribs. Emerson’s brow furrowed as his eyes flickered between me and the door behind me.“Why are you standing there like that?” he asked, suspicion lacing his tone.I swallowed hard, forcing myself to take a steadying breath. “It’s nothing,” I replied, too quickly, too flatly. I winced internally, knowing how unconvincing I sounded.Emerson tilted his head, scrutinizing me with the sharpness of a man who had spent his life mastering observation. “Nothing?” he repeated, taking a slow step closer.I tried to regain control, plastering a strained smile onto my face. “The toilet’s broken,” I said, gesturing vaguely toward the bathroom door behind me. “It’s just… acting up. That’s all.”Hi
Isabel’s POVThe air was thick, suffocating. As though the room itself held its breath. I stood motionless, my mind racing as Emerson's piercing gaze locked on me. His brow was furrowed, his expression a calculated mix of curiosity and suspicion.“A man?” Emerson’s voice cut through the tension, cold and deliberate. His eyebrow arched slightly. But his eyes betrayed nothing.I shifted on my feet, unable to meet his gaze directly. My hands felt clammy. I clasped them together to keep them from shaking.“Yes, sir,” the repairman piped up, oblivious to the storm brewing in the room. “Maybe he was looking for someone. Although the security system here is excellent…” He trailed off, his cheerful tone faltering as he seemed to sense the change in atmosphere. “Uh, did I say something wrong?”Emerson waved a hand dismissively. “Go on,” he said, his voice calm, almost too calm. He leaned back slightly, his sharp eyes flickering between the repairman and me. “What did this man look like?”I sw
Isabel’s POVEmerson’s lingering presence in the room was suffocating. His imposing figure loomed near the window, arms crossed, his dark eyes fixed on the horizon as though seeking answers out there. His bossy attitude frustrated me, but I bit my tongue. Now’s not the time, Isabel. You need him—for Liam.I sank into the chair near the bedside, the unopened report heavy in my hands. The weight of it seemed disproportionate, as though it carried more than just words on paper. It held my future, my son's future, and perhaps even Emerson’s—whether he realized it or not.I glanced at him. His jaw was set, and his lips pressed into a thin line. The tension was rolling off him in waves. It was a rare moment where his cold exterior cracked, replaced by something I dared to call concern. I let out a slow breath, steadying myself.Maybe it’s not a bad thing if he knows, I thought. If the truth forced him to see the gravity of the situation, maybe—just maybe—he’d step up, not for me but for L
Isabel’s POVThe days that followed blurred into one long, stifling vigil. Emerson was by my side almost constantly, hovering over me like I was made of delicate glass. His anxiety was palpable in every move he made, every glance he threw my way. It was suffocating. I woke up to find him perched on the edge of a chair, his brows furrowed as he scanned my face for signs of discomfort. At night, I felt his shadow in the room as he got up repeatedly, leaning over me to ensure I was still breathing.At first, I tried to tell myself that his actions came from a place of care. But soon his obsession began to wear on me. Every time he touched my hand or straightened my blanket, I felt a wave of frustration rise within me. This was exactly why I hadn’t wanted him to know about my condition. This endless vigilance and control—this reminder of my fragility—was more than I could handle.One afternoon, after yet another restless nap interrupted by Emerson’s incessant fussing, I snapped. “Emerso
Isabel’s POV“Good night, Isa,” Emerson murmured softly, his voice barely audible against the hum of the hospital room.His arm was draped heavily across me, a tangible reminder of his presence—of the way he had suddenly taken root in my life, like an unmovable fixture. I stared at the ceiling, every muscle in my body stiff with tension. Emerson’s breathing deepened, slipping into the steady rhythm of sleep. For him, the night offered rest, an escape from the heaviness of reality. For me, it brought nothing but suffocating silence and a restless mind that refused to slow.I shifted carefully, desperate not to wake him as his arm slid off me. My thoughts began to swirl, looping endlessly over the events of the past few days. The false report. The sudden intervention. The mysterious way the treatment was unfolding. None of it added up.It must’ve been Elias’ doing..I closed my eyes, a small spark of clarity lighting up my confusion. The false report, the sudden involvement of the ho
Isabel’s POV"Margot… She's gone blind? No, it can't be..." I whispered, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. My voice sounded small, fragile—unlike me. I sat frozen in the sterile chemo room. The faint hum of the IV machine was the only sound filling the silence.Dr. Vargas’s calm expression didn’t waver, but I could see the weight of his words reflected in the lines of his face. “I’m afraid it’s true.”It felt like a punch to my chest. Margot. Strong, fierce Margot. The woman who once shielded me when I couldn’t stand on my own. Gone blind. The thought sent my mind spinning. My body stiffened against the recliner’s cold leather. My pulse thudded in my ears. I could barely hear my own voice when I croaked out the next question.“Why? How? What… what happened to her?”Dr. Vargas shifted slightly, his demeanor remaining professional but gentler now. “When Sebastian and Margot escaped from the barracks, they ran into pursuers. The men didn’t recognize them, but they assume
Isabel’s POVThe idea had planted itself in my mind and taken root: if I didn’t make it, at least parts of me could still be used to help the people I loved. My eyes, for example. Thinking I might be able to help Margot see again was a small consolation. But it gave me a sliver of peace amidst the chaos of everything else.Dr. Vargas noticed my hesitation as I stared at the clipboard in his hands. He set his pen down, folding his hands in front of him with a small, regretful smile.“I’m afraid not, Miss White.”Confusion flickered across my face. “What do you mean?”His gaze softened, as though he were breaking unwelcome news. “Sebastian specifically instructed me to reject any notions of… self-sacrifice on your part. He made it very clear.”The corners of my mouth twitched into a weak smile as I leaned back in the chair. My arm came up to cover my watery eyes. “Of course, he did. He’s always so thoughtful. Too thoughtful.”Guilt crept in, knotting my stomach. I couldn’t even do this
Isabel’s POVMy hands trembled as I stared at the television screen, my breath catching in my throat. Alistair Montrose’s sharp, confident eyes bore into the camera as he vehemently denied the accusations. His words were laced with defiance, his arrogance unwavering. How dare he? How dare he act so righteous after tearing my family apart, after ruining lives without a shred of remorse?I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. “How can he stand there and say those things after all he’s done?” My voice wavered with anger.Elias leaned back in his chair. His expression was unreadable but his tone was calm and deliberate. “That’s who he is. Alistair doesn’t bow to pressure. But don’t let that calm exterior fool you, Isabel. He’s cornered, and Emerson made sure of it.”“Emerson?” I asked, startled.Elias nodded. “Over the past three months, he’s been relentless. Retaliating. Gathering evidence. It’s no coincidence Alistair’s empire is crumbling. If Alistair can’t navigate his way
Isabel’s POVThe sight of Margot standing in the doorway stole my breath. Her hair, usually flawless, was a windswept mess, and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Before I could find my voice, she rushed toward me, her arms wrapping around me tightly.“You’re awake!” she sobbed, her body trembling against mine. “I thought… I thought I’d never see you again.”Her vulnerability tugged at something deep within me. I held her close, my own emotions threatening to spill over. “Margot… What are you doing here?”As she pulled back, wiping her tears, a thought clawed its way into my mind. If Margot was here, did it mean Caleb might know where I was? My chest tightened. The fewer people who knew about me being alive, the safer everyone would be.Before I could ask, Margot seemed to read my mind. “No, Caleb doesn’t know,” she admitted, her tone quieter now. “He’ll never find out.”The weight of her words made me falter. “What do you mean? Aren’t you two… together?”She shook her head, forcing
Isabel’s POVThe weight of Elias’s words settled over me like a suffocating blanket, each revelation cutting deeper than the last. I stared at him, my heart hammering in disbelief. Alistair and Raoul—names that now carried the full weight of betrayal and hatred. And my dad... or rather, my adoptive father, as he had admitted in his dying moments. The man who raised me, who taught me strength and resilience, was gone. And with his death came the unrelenting sting of truths I was not ready to confront.“I still can’t believe it,” I murmured, my voice trembling. “All these years, he hid the truth from me. He wasn’t my biological father.” I paused, swallowing hard. “But that doesn’t change how much I loved him. Or how much it hurts knowing I’ll never see him again.”Elias’s face softened. “He loved you, Isabel. Whatever the truth of your bloodline may be, he raised you as his own daughter. I’m sure his greatest regret was not telling you sooner.”I wanted to believe him, but the ache in
Isabel’s POVI woke up in a strange place, disoriented. As though I had been tossed around by the violent tides of life. For a moment, I thought I had been returned to that terrible mental hospital. But then, I noticed the difference—the absence of restraints. I wasn’t bound this time. My body was free, laid out on the bed, my limbs able to move at will. For the first time in what felt like forever, I could breathe easily.I slowly felt my head, wincing at the tenderness. A thick bandage was wrapped around it. Then it hit me. I must’ve had brain surgery! I had made it. I was alive. My heart raced in a mix of relief and confusion, and I immediately tried to make sense of the situation. Where was everyone? Why was I here?Where was… Emerson?I believed I knew him well enough by now to know that, under normal circumstances, he would be right here by my side. He wouldn’t leave my side for even a second. But instead, I was alone. The emptiness of the room seemed to stretch endlessly arou
Emerson’s POVThe heavy wooden doors of the church creaked open as I stumbled inside. The scent of lilies mixed with burning candles overwhelmed me, but not nearly as much as the sight before me. Rows of somber faces turned toward me, expressions shifting from shock to pity. My disheveled appearance—bandaged and pale—spoke volumes about my state of mind.The priest’s voice echoed through the sanctuary, steady and calm. “Today, we gather to mourn the loss of Isabel. A woman of strength, compassion, and grace. She touched lives in ways few could, and her memory will forever remain a beacon of light to those who knew her.”His words washed over me like daggers. Each syllable felt like a nail in the coffin of my soul. My legs trembled as I walked down the aisle, ignoring the whispers that followed me. My heart thundered, every beat a reminder of her absence.Robert stood near the altar, his usual calm demeanor replaced with a sorrow that weighed on his shoulders. His eyes were red, his
Emerson’s POV“Isabel! No!”I bolted upright, drenched in cold sweat, my chest heaving like I’d been submerged in icy water. The nightmare’s gruesome images clung to me.Isabel’s pale face, her lifeless body slipping through my fingers as blood pooled around her. My throat felt raw from the scream that had wrenched itself free.Normally, waking up from a nightmare brought relief. The kind of solace that came with realizing the horrors were merely figments of a restless mind. But not today. Today, waking up felt like stepping deeper into a nightmare that refused to end.Reality settled over me with a suffocating weight. The haunting image of Isabel’s lifeless body lingered in my mind, vivid and unrelenting. Her pale face, so serene it was almost cruel, was the last thing I’d seen before darkness claimed me.It wasn’t just a memory—it was a living torment, replaying over and over in grotesque detail. I could still feel the cold air of the operating room, smell the sharp tang of antisept
Sebastian/ Elias’s POVIt was time. The plan I had meticulously crafted over months was finally falling into place. Every piece was set, every contingency accounted for. Isabel had been transferred to safety, miles away from this chaos. Mateo had just handed me Isabel’s “death certificate,” a grim document that served as a lynchpin for my deception. I studied it one last time. The weight of the lies it represented settled on my shoulders.Nearby, the undertaker was putting the finishing touches on the wax figure meant to pass as Isabel’s body. The likeness was uncanny—the same gentle curve of her lips, the familiar softness of her features. Her hair had been styled exactly as she’d worn it in the hospital, and I couldn't help but marvel at the grotesque artistry of it all.“Perfect,” I murmured to the undertaker, my voice low and controlled. “She has to be perfect.”When the battle outside quieted, I knew the moment had arrived. I walked out, ready to start the deception. Emerson w
Emerson’s POVThe chaos outside the hospital was unlike anything I had ever seen. Smoke billowed from burning vehicles, and the air was thick with the acrid tang of gunpowder. The echo of gunfire and shouting ricocheted through the streets, mingling with the cries of the wounded. My men and I, battered and bloodied, pressed forward with unrelenting determination. Every step was a fight against the tide of Raoul’s hired mercenaries.Behind the barricade of overturned gurneys, I wiped the blood from my brow, glancing toward the hospital. Isabel.She was the reason I pushed through the pain. The sole force driving me to keep moving despite my injured body’s protests. I couldn’t fail her—not again.Was she okay? Could I trust Sebastian and his men to keep the operating room safe? It was a gamble—a risk. But I had no other choice. I was needed here, to take care of Raoul myself."Push forward!" I barked, my voice hoarse but commanding. My men surged with renewed vigor, a mix of loyalty an
Sebastian/ Elias’s POVThe call came through just as I finished reviewing some critical files. My subordinate’s urgent tone pierced the calm. “Sir, the hospital is under attack. Isabel’s in danger.”My heart stopped. I had stationed him there precisely to prevent something like this, yet here we were. Without hesitation, I grabbed my gear and called in reinforcements from my trusted network—men who owed me favors or believed in my cause. Risky as it was to show my face, I couldn’t sit idle when Isabel’s life was on the line.The scene outside the hospital was chaotic. Sirens blared, people screamed, and armed assailants surged through the area. My team and I pushed through the crowd. I barked orders, ensuring civilians were evacuated. The air smelled of smoke and fear, every second stretching as I thought about Isabel.We fought our way through the halls, clearing pockets of resistance. The hospital's sterile white walls were now smeared with destruction. Patients were being wheeled