Alle Kapitel von His Betrayal, His Regret: Kapitel 71 – Kapitel 80

Isabel’s POVThe hospital loomed ahead. The taxi ride had been a blur, a whirlwind of fear and guilt that gnawed at my insides. Every turn of the wheels felt like an eternity. As we pulled up to the entrance, I threw some cash at the driver and stumbled out. I was still in my gown from last night. My heels clicked sharply against the pavement.I rushed through the sliding doors, my heart pounding in my chest. The fluorescent lights above buzzed, casting a harsh glow on everything they touched. My eyes darted around, searching, hoping, dreading. Finally, I saw him—Michael, Emerson’s secretary—pacing anxiously outside the emergency room. His usually composed demeanor was nowhere to be found. Instead, he looked like a man on the brink of collapse. When he spotted me, it was as if he had seen a lifeline.“Miss White!” Michael’s voice trembled as he hurried over. The relief in his eyes was palpable. But it was mixed with something else—desperation. “Thank God you’re here. I didn’t know w

Isabel’s POVAs Emerson was fighting for his life, my heart sank deeper than I thought possible. I felt weighed down by conflicting emotions. I couldn’t quite explain the ache that spread across my chest. Emerson had betrayed me. He had shattered our marriage, gave up on me and our baby, and got engaged to the woman who destroyed everything. He even tried to ruin my father, driving him to the brink of despair. Wasn’t this supposed to be his retribution? A car accident—a twist of fate—should have felt like some kind of cosmic justice.I should be happy. Or at the very least, I should feel some satisfaction. But somehow, my heart still hurts.Suddenly, the familiar stabbing pain began to claw at my head. “Oh no, not now…” I thought to myself.The dull throb quickly escalated into a full-blown headache. I pressed my fingers to my temple, trying to take the pain away. But it only intensified. I hadn’t brought any medication with me."I’ll be right back," I muttered, not waiting for Micha

Isabel’s POVI stood by Emerson’s bedside. My heart was racing as my fingers hovered over the oxygen tube. It was right there, inches from my hand. One tug, one moment of weakness, and it would be over. I wouldn’t have to endure the agony he kept causing me. The betrayal. The abandonment. The countless nights spent crying alone while he rebuilt his life without me.I could be free.But as I moved closer, something stopped me. My hand shook, and instead of pulling the tube, it fell to my side. I stumbled back, clenching my fists, furious at myself. I hated him—God, I hated him. But I hated myself more. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t take his life, no matter how much pain he caused me.What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I be strong, cold-hearted, like he was? I bit my lip, fighting back tears. I tried desperately to push away the memories of his touch, his smile. The things I missed. Even though I swore to never let myself feel that way again.“God, Emerson. Why did you have to ruin

Isabel’s POVI followed the nurse down the narrow, dimly lit hallway. Each step felt like walking into a nightmare I couldn’t wake from. My feet were bare. The cold tiles sent shivers up my spine. The thin hospital gown clung to my body, offering no warmth, no protection. Even my wig was gone. I felt stripped, vulnerable and exposed. As if everything that made me Isabel had been taken away. I had nothing but my fear.We reached a small consultation room. The moment I stepped inside, the door slammed shut behind me with a loud click. I spun around, heart racing. But the door was locked. I was trapped, again.My breath quickened, panic rising in my chest. The room was stark, bare. No windows. No escape. My reflection flickered in the glass of a single hanging light above the desk. I looked like a ghost, pale and gaunt. A shadow of the woman I used to be.Moments later, the door creaked open again. A doctor in a white coat walked in, followed closely by a nurse. I wanted to scream, to

Isabel’s POVThe nurse approached me with unnerving calm. Her blonde hair was meticulously styled beneath her cap, not a single strand out of place. Her face was almost unnaturally symmetrical—high cheekbones, a straight nose, and full lips. On the surface, she was beautiful. In a way that seemed too perfect, too calculated. But there was an eerie stillness to her movements. A cold precision in the way she glided across the room that made my skin crawl. Her pale blue eyes, though framed by soft lashes, lacked any warmth. They didn’t seem to see me as a person, but as an object to be controlled. A chill ran down my spine as I realized there was something deeply off about her. Every instinct screamed at me to be cautious, to watch her every move. Her beauty, so flawlessly constructed, felt more like a mask. Hiding whatever lay beneath. Whatever it was, I knew I had to tread carefully. She wasn’t just a nurse. She was something far more dangerous.Her hands were steady as she held out