Chapter 8

She woke up groggy and disoriented—the next day had already arrived. Isabella was lying on the cold, hard floor, every inch of her body throbbing with dull pain. It took her a moment to pull herself together before she sat up slowly. Luckily, aside from the soreness all over, her stomach seemed okay. She'd instinctively curled up a bit when Desmond kicked her the night before. As the memories of last night rushed back in, the bitterness in her chest started to grow. People had hearts, but his? It was like ice she couldn't melt. She went to the bathroom for a shower. When she came out wrapped in a towel, she jumped—someone was already standing in the room. Desmond had already turned to look at her, a mocking smirk curling his lips. "You really can't stand Nora for even a second, can you? That vicious streak of yours really can't hide for long." His gaze—full of disgust, like she was something rotten—landed squarely on her. Isabella held his stare. "If I say I didn't do it, will you believe me?" After being wrongfully blamed again and again, she'd had enough. If she could rip open her chest and show him her heart, just to prove her innocence, she would've done it in a heartbeat. Desmond gave her a look of scorn and tossed the divorce papers on the table. "Sign it." She eyed the divorce agreement silently for a few seconds, then spoke quietly, "Desmond, we've been married for half a year now. Maybe you only did it to get back at Nora's expense. But me? I married you because I genuinely liked you." His face showed nothing but impatience. No surprise there. She never expected him to care. Isabella picked up the divorce papers and walked toward him. Then suddenly, a smile crept onto her lips. It was bright—too bright. It made Desmond pause. Come to think of it, it'd been a long time since she'd smiled like that. Her eyes used to shine when she looked at him, like he was her whole world. He remembered when just a few words from him could make her blush. Somewhere along the way, her smile changed. It became cautious, fake, like she was always bracing for the worst. "Desmond, you married me because you hated me. Now you're leaving me for the same reason. But I married you because I loved you—and that's why I won't divorce you. Not until the day you finally believe me." With that, Isabella tore the papers in half and tossed the shreds into the trash. Whatever softness had briefly flickered in Desmond's eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a stormy fury."Isabella, stop being so ungrateful." "You're just blinded by Nora!" Isabella's eyes were red with frustration. "She jumped into the river on her own, she cut her own hand—why do you believe everything she says and not me?" All that bottled-up grievance finally exploded. Isabella couldn't hold it in any longer. Why was it always okay for them to hurt her like this? She didn't do any of those things—Nora did. Why wouldn't anyone believe her? Was it just because she was Isabella? Did that mean it was fine to wrongly accuse her? Desmond grabbed her by the chin tightly, his gaze sharp like a blade. "Then tell me," he said coldly, "do you even believe your own story?" His grip was brutal—her face ached with the pressure, and she couldn't get any words out. But her eyes, lit with anger, were impossibly bright. Her skin was like porcelain, warm from the shower, with a whisper of body wash lingering. That look in her eyes, fragile yet defiant, stabbed through Desmond like a sudden fever. His throat tightened and heat bloomed across his skin. He yanked her down onto the table and started unbuckling his belt. Isabella instantly panicked, realizing what he was trying to do. "Desmond, stop!" He just gave her a cold smile. "Isn't this what you've been after—refusing the divorce just so I'll sleep with you? Well, here it is." Isabella was scared, she cried, "You're not even scared Nora will find out?" Still throwing Nora in his face? Desmond smirked cruelly and ripped the towel from her body, forcing himself on her. The pain was sharp and immediate. Isabella tried to fight back, but she wasn't strong enough to push him off. Tears rolled down her cheeks, the cold of the table beneath her contrasting with the heat from his skin. And suddenly, her stomach turned violently. She started hitting him with all her strength. "Desmond, get off! I'm going to throw up." She turned her head fast, vomiting to the side. Finally, he let go of her. Isabella slipped off the table, stumbling into the bathroom. She dropped in front of the toilet and vomited over and over. She hadn't eaten much all day, and soon, she was only dry heaving. After a while, she managed to stand up and rinse her mouth. Then, she heard Desmond's gritted voice from behind, "Am I really that disgusting to you?" She didn't respond. Just stared at the ghost-faced woman in the mirror, and the man behind her with that cold, furious look. Clenching her jaw, she said, "Desmond, fine. I'll give you what you want. Let's get divorced."