All Chapters of THE DOCTOR'S BEAUTIFUL WIFE.: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

**The Man in the Shadows**Isabelle’s mind spun as she stared at the newspaper article. Victor St. James… My father? The name felt foreign on her tongue, yet it was written in black and white before her.Michael leaned in, his brows furrowed. “If he disappeared all those years ago, why is his name still surfacing now?”Carla’s fingers tapped against her phone screen. “I did some digging,” she said, scrolling through more articles. “Some reports say he left everything behind—his company, his wealth, his family. Others claim he faked his death to escape something dangerous.”Isabelle’s throat tightened. “And my mother never told me any of this?”Michael reached across the table and squeezed her hand gently. “Maybe she was trying to protect you from whatever made him disappear in the first place.”Isabelle exhaled shakily. “But I have to know. I need to find him.”Carla nodded. “I already cross-referenced a few leads. There’s a private estate listed under a different name in upstate New

**Echoes of the Past**Isabelle’s fingers trembled as she turned the key in the lock of her old apartment. The place smelled faintly of lavender, just as she had left it, yet the air felt heavy with the weight of the past. Michael stood behind her, his presence a comforting anchor, while Carla and Victor waited outside, keeping watch.She stepped inside cautiously, her gaze scanning the familiar surroundings. Everything looked untouched—except for the slight shift in the picture frames on the wall.Someone had been here.Her heart pounded. Had they found the music box already?Michael noticed her hesitation and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll find it,” he assured her.Taking a deep breath, Isabelle walked toward her bedroom. The antique wooden music box sat on the top shelf of her closet, right where she had last placed it. It was small, delicate, with intricate carvings of roses on the lid.She carefully pulled it down, running her fingers over the surface. Her mother ha

**The Key to the Past**The cold metal of the key felt heavier in Isabelle’s palm as she clutched it tightly. The world around her blurred as Michael guided her through the maze of Rosewood Garden. Carla and Victor had stayed behind to delay their pursuers, but time was running out.“Where are we going?” Isabelle whispered as they reached the garden’s back gate.Michael glanced over his shoulder, making sure no one was following them. “Somewhere safe.”Safe. The word felt meaningless now. Ever since she had uncovered the truth about her father—or rather, the man she had always believed was her father—nothing had felt safe.They reached Michael’s car, parked a short distance away on a quiet side street. As soon as they were inside, Michael started the engine, pulling away from Rosewood Garden. Isabelle exhaled a shaky breath, staring down at the small key in her hands.“This key… it must lead to something important,” she murmured.Michael nodded, his eyes focused on the road. “And we’r

**A Step Into the Unknown**The weight of her decision settled in Isabelle’s chest like a stone. No more running. No more hiding. She was ready to face whatever lay ahead, no matter how tangled or dangerous the truth might be.Eric leaned back in his chair, studying her with a mix of admiration and concern. “If you’re really committed to this, there’s someone you need to meet.”Michael frowned. “Who?”“A historian,” Eric replied. “Someone who’s been tracking the legacy of your family for years. He might not have all the answers, but he knows more than anyone else.”Isabelle hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Then let’s go.”The drive to the historian’s house was long and filled with tension. Michael’s hand rested protectively over Isabelle’s, while Eric focused on the road, his jaw tight with unspoken thoughts.When they finally arrived at the secluded cottage, Isabelle felt a strange sense of familiarity. The place had an old-world charm, with ivy crawling up its stone wall

**A Reflection in Time** Isabelle’s breath hitched as she locked eyes with the woman standing at the top of the stairs. It was like looking into a distorted mirror—everything about her was the same. The way her dark curls framed her face, the curve of her jaw, the way she stood, still and silent. But something was different. The woman’s eyes were hollow, almost… distant, as if she wasn’t fully there. Michael stepped forward instinctively, his protective nature kicking in. “Who is that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The woman didn’t move, didn’t speak. She only watched. Isabelle felt frozen in place. The air around her thickened, heavy with something unspoken, something ancient. The house seemed to be holding its breath, waiting. Eric’s voice broke the silence. “Isabelle… are you sure you’ve never been here before?” She swallowed hard, shaking her head. “I—I don’t know.” Alistair exhaled sharply. “This house remembers.” The words sent a chill down her spine. And