Chapter 11

Yeah, I mean, what kind of real parents treat their kids so differently? It might've sounded casual, but the words hit hard. Mr. and Mrs. Bennett exchanged a glance, their faces suddenly going pale. Mrs. Bennett opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but Mr. Bennett stopped her with a sharp look. His expression darkened. "Isabella, what's that supposed to mean?" "Nothing," she replied, standing up. "It's been long enough. I should get going." For once, Isabella didn't back down. Normally, no matter how cold they were to her, she'd still put on a smile and play nice. After she left, Mrs. Bennett tugged at Mr. Bennett's sleeve, her voice low. "Do you think… she's starting to figure it out?" "She's too dumb to get a clue," Mr. Bennett scoffed. "If it weren't for Nora, we'd never have brought that jinx into our house. What a headache." — The Bennetts' house wasn't far from Elysian Court. As usual, Isabella chose to walk back. A van cruised by slowly at the corner. The door slid open. Strong hands yanked her in before she had time to react. A cloth covered her nose before she could scream. Darkness crashed in. Desmond was on his way home from the office. For some reason he couldn't explain, he detoured to Elysian Court. When he got to the door, he grimaced at himself—was he really about to go in? But since he was already there, he stepped inside. The house was pitch black. Weird. It was already eight, but the place felt dead quiet. He called out, "Isabella?" He checked the bedrooms—nothing. That little pang of unease? He shoved it down hard and pulled out his phone. Her number? Off. Dammit, that woman! His face turned cold. He immediately dialed his assistant. "Track someone down for me." — Isabella slowly came to, her groggy eyes taking in the unfamiliar room. It looked like a hotel suite. Elegant chandelier overhead, reflections dancing on the wall. Then she saw him. He hadn't moved, just watching her. He had bleached yellow hair—that's how she recognized him. She'd seen him talking to Nora at the hospital. It was him. He noticed her shift and grinned. "Mrs. Marson, huh? Fancy meeting you like this." There was a sleazy, dangerous vibe to him that made her skin crawl. Still, she forced herself to sound tough. "Who the hell are you?" Max Turner leaned in closer, his smirk downright disgusting. "Such a pretty face. Just because your husband's loaded, he thinks he's entitled to mess around with sisters? Well, I'm broke, but if I screw you too, guess that makes us even." His rough hand grabbed her face, fingers sliding along her skin. She recoiled, disgusted. Tried to sit up—but her limbs felt like jelly. "You drugged me?" she snapped, fury burning in her weakened voice. "Of course. Otherwise, how would you lie there all nice and quiet?" "What are you trying to do?!" "You. And while I'm at it, say goodbye to that baby of yours." "It's Nora, isn't it? She sent you." Isabella's heart raced, pieces linking together. Only two people knew about her baby: Francis—and maybe Francis slipped in front of Nora. She'd thought Nora hadn't heard… Max froze for a split second. She knew? He lunged forward, yanking at her clothes, sneering, "Since you already figured it out, bitch, there's no way you're walking out of here alive.""Let go of me! Get off!" Isabella was trembling with fear, struggling for her life, but the man was too strong. Her blouse popped open, buttons flying everywhere. He lunged at her like a starving beast. Panic flooded her chest. Her lips were bleeding from a bite—she'd rather die than let this scum get his way. Just as she was mustering the courage to fight back, the door slammed open with a loud bang. A tall figure stood in the doorway. Desmond?! Seriously? Max froze, clearly stunned, then instinctively loosened his grip on Isabella and tried to bolt. Desmond strode in and caught him with a brutal kick, sending him sprawling. He didn't stop there—he kept going, kicking like he wanted to erase him from existence. Isabella stared at Desmond, emotions churning inside her. She was stunned. He actually came for her. Did... did that mean he still cared, even a tiny bit? But then— "So desperate you couldn't even wait? Had to throw yourself at a stranger?" Her face went ghostly pale as she met Desmond's cold, cutting gaze. His eyes swept over her disheveled state, full of scorn and disgust. Yeah... of course. She was delusional to think otherwise. Isabella dropped her gaze, her whole body freezing like she'd been doused with ice water. She thought he came to save her. But no—he was here to catch her cheating? Is that who she was to him? Just some woman who'd sleep with anyone? She curled up tightly, arms wrapped around herself, unable to bear looking at him. Tears pricked her eyes, the pain overwhelming and numbing at the same time. Suddenly, a camera flash went off. She opened her eyes and saw Desmond's assistant had entered and was taking photos of her. She felt like she was standing naked in the middle of a street—completely exposed and humiliated. Desmond walked over, yanked the blanket off her without warning, and sneered, "Mrs. Marson, didn't you enjoy yourself earlier? What, feeling shy now?" Isabella's lips trembled as she looked at him, eyes filled with tears. "Desmond, I don't even know this man! Can't you believe me, just this once?" Max suddenly groaned and sat up, panic flashing across his face. "Mrs. Marson! You were the one who came onto me! Why are you acting innocent now?" "You liar!" Isabella shouted, furious. Max pulled out his phone, holding it up to her face. "I've got proof." Isabella's eyes widened as she stared at the message. Her phone number... the message had been sent from her phone. What the hell? She never sent this. No doubt—he must've done it after knocking her out. He never actually planned to touch her. The whole thing was staged—for Desmond to see. Reality clicked in her mind like a switch. She looked up, catching Desmond's unreadable eyes, and moved to speak—but got cut off. "If these pictures go public... your reputation's gone," he said, cold and detached. Then he turned to leave. Panic exploded in her chest. "Desmond! You want proof I didn't set up Nora? It's this guy—he's the link!" He paused. She saw it—hesitation in that still body. Maybe he was starting to believe her. Using every ounce of strength she had left, Isabella reached for her shirt, shakily buttoning it. Just that movement drained her. After catching her breath again, she forced herself to sit up. The drugs were still wearing off. "That day I went looking for Nora," she rasped, "I overheard them talking. The reason she disappeared for a year was because…"