Chapter 7

Desmond sat silently in the car. Even though Isabella had left, her scent still lingered in the air, making it impossible for him to calm down. He rolled down the window, letting the wind rush in and blow the fragrance away. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her purse on the seat. His gaze darkened—did she seriously leave without taking anything with her? He was about to turn back when his phone rang. "Desmond, I'm at your place. Where are you?" Nora's voice came through. "I'm on my way," he replied right away, the thought of Isabella vanishing in an instant. He urged the driver to speed up. When Isabella opened her eyes, she was staring at the blinding white ceiling, the sharp smell of disinfectant flooding her nose. Hospital? She vaguely remembered stopping a passing car before she passed out. Everything after that was a blank. The door creaked open and a man's voice spoke. "Awake?" She turned her head and saw a man in a white coat, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, with a polite and bookish smile. Recognizing him, she murmured, "Mr. Carter." Francis was one of Desmond's close friends. She'd met him before, back when things with her sister were… different. Francis smiled warmly, checked her IV, and then his tone turned serious. "Mrs. Marson, you've really got to be more careful. You almost lost the baby." "I'm pregnant?" Isabella took a moment to process his words. He let out a light chuckle. "One month along. You've got to take better care of yourself. First heatstroke yesterday, now this… If I hadn't shown up, it might've ended badly." Her face lost all color. Francis couldn't read what she was thinking. Suddenly, she shot up. The needle ripped out of her hand, blood seeping from the spot. Before he could say anything, she dropped to her knees in front of him with a loud thud and bowed her head deeply. "Please, Francis... don't tell Desmond." She always used to call him Mr. Carter, ever since marrying Desmond. Hearing her call him "Francis" again left him momentarily stunned. Later, Isabella returned to the Elysian Court house. The sky had darkened, and the house was glowing with warm yellow light. For a second, she thought she was dreaming. Desmond hadn't been coming home early for months. But as she stepped into the house, reality hit—she wasn't dreaming. Desmond was home. And so was Nora. "Desmond, I haven't cooked in so long. Hope you're ready to be impressed—or poisoned?" Nora asked sweetly. "I'd eat anything you make." His voice was gentle and low. Their tender exchange cut through Isabella like a knife. She stared at the two of them, her heart hurting in silence. She lowered her eyes, lips tugging into a bitter smile. Come to think of it, it had been ages since she'd heard Desmond speak in that kind of tone. With her, he was always cold. Guarded. Like he couldn't wait to be done with the conversation.Right then, Desmond saw her. The smile on his lips faded instantly, and he snorted coldly. "You actually came back?" It was already seven. Isabella licked her dry lips and explained softly, "There weren't any rides... I had to walk." "Isabella, you're back!" Nora stepped out of the kitchen, carrying a plate of food to the dining table. She had on an apron, her long hair twisted up neatly, and her delicate face looked flawless. She gave off that perfect hostess vibe. Thinking back to what happened at Nora's place earlier, Isabella felt a bitter irony tightening in her chest, but she forced herself to swallow it down. She glanced at the dish—a mountain of Brussels sprouts. Desmond hated Brussels sprouts.Without a word, she headed for the kitchen. "Sis, let me take over." She'd been the one cooking for the past six months. It was second nature by now. Nora gave her a smile. "Sure, you can help out." As soon as the kitchen door shut, Isabella went straight to rinsing the veggies. Beside her, Nora's warm smile vanished, replaced by a cold calm. "Isabella, about what happened today... I owe you an apology." "If you're really sorry," Isabella shot back with a sneer, "then just tell them the truth." Just as she turned around, she froze—Nora was holding a kitchen knife, the blade aimed right at her. Startled, Isabella blurted, "Nora!" But before she could react, Nora slashed her own wrist, blood spilling from her pale skin in a horrifying rush. Desmond burst into the kitchen at the sound of Nora's scream. He saw the blood all over her dress, and a knife lying near Isabella's feet. He rushed over and pulled Nora into his arms. Nora trembled, eyes brimming with tears. "Don't blame Isabella… she didn't mean it." Desmond turned to Isabella, eyes blazing with anger. "It wasn't me!" Isabella's voice cracked as she tried to explain. But she didn't even get another word out before his slap landed hard on her face. She staggered, then collapsed to the floor. The bruise from earlier this morning hadn't even gone down, and now that blow made her face swell up even more. The burning pain sparked through her face and stabbed at her heart. Her whole body shook. She looked up at Desmond with teary eyes, and just caught sight of the mocking smirk on Nora's lips from within his arms. The shame and fury rushed to Isabella's head. She shot up, lunging forward to tear away Nora's fake mask. "Bang—" Desmond didn't even hesitate. He kicked her straight into the corner. "I'll deal with you later," he snapped before storming out with Nora in his arms. Isabella crashed into the wall, the impact shooting pain through every inch of her body, like her insides had been torn apart. It felt like she was about to cough up blood. She tried to open her eyes, but everything blurred and darkened. Her stomach clenched in agony. She thought of the child inside her—and all she could do was cry.