It was the next morning, and the sun was shining brightly in the sky. The birds were chirping in the trees, which made everything at the beach house feel cool and refreshed. However, only Sophia enjoyed this serene atmosphere, as Isabella, Alexander, or Victoria concealed the burning pain in their hearts behind forced smiles.Isabella picked up her phone, dismissing Sophia to play outside the mansion as instructed by Alexander, and dialed Ethan's number."Hey, it's Ethan’s friend. He is not available right now, but I can pass along a message if you’d like." Isabella hung up immediately. This was the fifth time she had called Ethan in two minutes, and each time the response was the same.Her heart felt heavy, as if burdened by lead. If only Ethan would answer her call, perhaps she would feel better.She gulped down a glass of alcoholic wine she had grabbed from a nearby stool, her reddish eyes betraying her clear ones. A sound of pain escaped her lips, akin to a dagger piercing her hea
The madness Isabella showed at the gate was like a security guard grabbing a mad dog by its tail and getting bitten. Even with the presence of other security personnel, it made no difference, as they were strictly instructed not to touch an unarmed woman, as their job was to protect against external pressure and not to torture a woman.Suddenly, the security guard's phone began beeping like a fire alarm. When he answered it, he immediately stood at attention like a soldier receiving an order from his commander."Sir Smith, there's a woman at the gate claiming to be the Master's wife. She says her name is Isabella Rosewood."***Ethan was in his office reviewing Alexander's file, which contained records of his past achievements and was handed to him by Mr. Smith."Master Mark, your ex-wife is causing trouble at the gate. The security guard is asking if you want her to come in, but I think it's a terrible idea. I believe you should send her away. You don't need her toxic presence around
Even when the day became bright like the sun, Isabella was still in the room, planning what to say, like a student preparing for a debate competition.Each time she paced back and forth, faster and faster, wearing her worries on her face like a mask, she would forget some of what she had rehearsed all night long. And in that moment, she rubbernecked and gazed at the celling in an attempt to remember the exact word she forgot.Either way, it was a foggy morning, with a thick mist hanging in the air like a heavy blanket. After Isabella's bath, she desired a dressing style that would impress Ethan like a queen preparing for her coronation when he saw her.She stood before the standing mirror in the corner of her hotel room, yet with no dress on, like a model checking herself before walking down the runway. She smiled Immediately with satisfaction, like a ray of sunshine, acknowledging her ravishing beauty and her sexy body, at which all men cannot seem to look away.Fully prepared for th
Outside her hotel window, she heard a honk that sounded near her. While she ignored it the first time, she heard the honk again and again. At this moment, she began to feel like the honk was calling out to her. She wiped the curtain aside and saw a man standing beside a Range Rover Sport.He was perfectly dressed in a tailored suit, his hair neatly styled, and his shoes polished to a mirror shine. He carried himself with confidence and sophistication, every movement graceful and precise. Just then, Isabella heard her phone buzzing again, and she noticed the man answering his phone. She walked over to the bed where her phone was and checked the screen. It was a private number calling her."This is really not Davis. Who is that man outside?" she said."Could it be what I think it is?" she asked herself, and slowly she answered the call and placed the phone to her ear."Mrs. Rosewood, I am Jackson Smith, Master Mark's personal assistant. We are outside your hotel room. Please step out. T
Hearing what came out of Isabella's mouth was like hearing nails scrape against a chalkboard. At this moment, Ethan turned to look at Mr. Smith and nodded at him, as if they were old friends. Immediately, Mr. Smith understood what that meant. However, it didn't mean he easily forgave or excused Ethan and Isabella.He gently placed his palms against each other and hesitated for a moment, waiting until Ethan was forced to twist his neck in a certain way and giving him a look before he reluctantly walked towards the door.It wasn't that he sought pleasure in eavesdropping on his master's conversation with his ex-wife. He simply found it difficult to leave his master alone with his ex-wife, knowing that he might not receive the protection he needed when required.Once Mr. Smith left the room, Ethan asked, like a hospitable host extending an invitation, "Care for a drink?" He then strode slowly to his home bar in the living room and grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses.At this moment,
Isabella's heart continued to beat like a drum pounding against her chest as she anxiously awaited Ethan's revelation. She didn't like the direction the conversation was taking, as it was not going according to her plan.However, there was little she could do at this moment, as she was feeling as powerless as a bird with clipped wings, trapped in a cage at the mercy of her captor. If only she interrupted Ethan, she knew it would speak volumes about her secret, and she should better keep silent.Like a rabbit caught in a snare, she paid close attention to Ethan's words, all the while trying to conceal her nervousness, as she felt like a prisoner trapped in a cell, awaiting the key to her freedom.Ethan, on the other hand, stepped away from the home bar and slowly approached Isabella, reminiscent of a lion stalking its prey, his words ready to be unleashed.He then took another sip of his wine and said,"This is the story of a woman who believed she had it all and treated everyone aroun
Isabella's driving was so furious, evident in her stern face and relentless acceleration. It was a manifestation of her anger, and that evening, she found herself back in Havenbrook.Even though the sun had set, painting vibrant hues across the horizon, Havenbrook continued to buzz with life and activity like a thriving metropolis that never sleeps.Upon arriving at the beach house, Isabella couldn't help but unleash her anger on everyone she encountered, including the security personnel at the gate, as she stormed in like a raging tornado, tearing through the streets with unbridled force.The events from earlier in Eldridge replayed in her mind like a movie at the cinema. Her anger then grew wider, and as she got out of the car, she slammed the door shut with a thunderous clap echoing through the night.She placed her fingerprint on the entrance door and waited for the chime to sound, but it didn't happen. Frustrated as she was, she yelled as if the fingerprint sensor could hear her,
Isabella seethed like an angry storm cloud, her energy crackling with fury, her gaze piercing the air like lightning bolts of frustration."He's a devil; that damn bastard is a devil!" Isabella exclaimed before tears cascaded down her cheeks like a gentle waterfall of sorrow and vulnerability.Confusion clouded Alexander and Victorial's minds, akin to lost wanderers in a labyrinth. "Didn't he agree to take custody of the child?" asked Alexander and Victorial, looking at Isabella with so much confusion written boldly on their faces."That bastard even rejected his own daughter?" muttered Alexander, his words reaching Isabella and Victoria since Isabella refused to talk, and he said anything that came to his mind."I know he'll do anything to come after me. I'm his target, and soon enough he'll try to ruin me," Alexander said with a deep breath, revealing a hint of trepidation as if he were bracing himself for an impending storm."I agree with you, Alex; the damn bastard is watching you
Pushing her back into her prison cell like a reluctant pawn being returned to its square on a chessboard, Isabella fell on the prison floor, resembling a fragile autumn leaf descending with a surrender to the inevitable embrace of the cold, hard ground. No matter how her voice had risen in anger towards her mother in the meeting room, she knew very well that she wanted to read the contents of the letter in the envelope and discover the help Ethan Mark had promised her. "Would he file for my release?" "Has he bought me a home as a sign of my forgiveness?" "Would he take me back as his wife?" Different questions rushed through her mind like a tumultuous river, each query cascading over the other. As she held the envelope in her hand, she sat at the corner of her cell and stared at it much more closely. In this way, she saw that the surface of the envelope bore a faint trace of handling, like a blank canvas marked only by the weight of the untold. She also observed the edges, crisp
As Isabella saw her mother through the glass panel, her eyes first peered at her face, which was fresh and glowing like a sun-kissing morning, radiating warmth and vitality. Similarly, she observed her hair, cascading strands of silk, flowing effortlessly, resembling a gentle waterfall gracing a serene landscape.But if that were all, it would be a lie. She also noticed her dress, which was as beautiful as a field of blooming flowers, each petal a vibrant hue, creating a tapestry of elegance. Likewise, her neck, ears, and wrists were adorned with jewelry, resembling constellations adorning the night sky, each piece a sparkling star in the galaxy of her elegance.Taking in this perfect image of her mother, the thought immediately struck Isabella that her mother's current appearance was the complete inverse of hers—a mess in a uniform and in a confined space, akin to a wildflower struggling to bloom in a cramped garden bed."Been a while," Victoria Sinclair said again, immediately as Is
Like a fish forced to live in the desert for the crime she had committed, Isabella's prison days wove a bleak tapestry of monotony and despair. The cold, unforgiving reality of prison life left her yearning for freedom, with each passing moment feeling like an eternity. The absence of familiar faces and the pervasive loneliness created a profound sense of desolation that permeated every aspect of her existence.Most especially, the daily beatings from her tormentor, Elara Whitewind, resembled an unrelenting storm, leaving Isabella's spirit battered and broken, akin to a shipwreck in the tempest of her despair. This was the reason she wished she had never set foot in the prison yard, mess hall, or communal bathroom ever again.However, whether she wished to visit those places or not, prison protocol had to be followed, leaving her no choice but to be present even in the devil's face if the protocol demanded it.In the dimly lit mess hall, clattering trays and hushed conversations fille
Ethan said nothing in response to Mr. Alexander's words. Instead, as if he hadn't heard him, he seized a seat on the other side of the table and crossed his left leg over his right.Yet, this did not mean he spoke at this moment. The only sound was the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the table, as if he were playing an invisible piano.In this manner, Ethan Mark exuded authority. Gazing calmly from Mr. Alexander's feet to the tangled mess of hair atop his head, he looked at him. With a serenity akin to the gentle flow of the Nile and a voice as soft as a satisfied dove contemplating a defeated jungle lion, he suddenly spoke."Kneel and apologize."Upon hearing these words, Mr. Alexander's eyes widened in shock. He never anticipated a day when he would be asked to kneel and beg for mercy, especially from the person he had always regarded as a poor bastard.Like an enslaved cat in the presence of a lion, Mr. Alexander fell to his knees as Ethan Mark instructed, pleading, "I was a ter
Seeing how bold, tall, and dangerous this prisoner appeared and observing his audacious manner of poking at him was akin to witnessing a prowling lion, confident in its dominance, taunting its prey before the impending strike. Mr. Alexander then immediately turned his back, attempting to escape from this menacing part of the communal bathroom like a startled deer seeking refuge from the looming threat in the dark forest. "I have to run," he muttered in total fright, his voice a tremor in the echoing silence, like a desperate whisper carried away by the chilling wind of impending danger. However, if his intention was for success, it was a futile hope. "And where do you think you are running to, huh?" Another prisoner said this behind him and pushed him forward like a pawn on the unforgiving chessboard of the prison's power dynamics. As Mr. Alexander was pushed forward, he witnessed how the older prisoners immediately surrounded him. He also noticed how they revealed smirks on their c
After speaking for hours, the man who had conversed with him advised Mr. Alexander to get some sleep. He emphasized the importance of having alert eyes to observe any unfortunate events that might occur in the morning. And with that, Mr. Alexander retreated to the corner of his cell once again, burying his head in his ankle like a ship seeking refuge in the harbor of solitude, sheltering itself from the tempest of the prison's harsh reality. He sat on the ground, succumbing to a haunted sleep. *** The next morning revealed Mr. Alexander as a mere specter of resilience, marked by the weariness of a night spent in the clutches of haunted dreams, like a tattered flag fluttering weakly after enduring the relentless storm of a sleepless night. His eyes, burdened with unrest, betrayed the toll of his surroundings. Disheveled strands of hair clung to his forehead, bearing witness to the restless hours entangled in unsettling dreams. As he rose from the dark corner of his cell, his eyes fir
"Long story, man," the man answered. However, if this was all he said, it was a lie. He began to unravel his own narrative, detailing how his legs became amputated and one of his hands irreparably broken and dislocated."You see, I entered this prison as a healthy man. My crimes weren't that significant. I robbed a bank because I couldn't bear to watch my daughter suffer. We hadn't eaten for days, and robbing the bank seemed like my only option." He took a deep sigh and continued talking."Yes, you guessed right. The mission was unsuccessful, and before I knew it, I was completely surrounded by the police. I had no guns, only a knife and a dagger. I never headed to the vault but collected pieces from each person I encountered in the bank. I just wanted to be able to feed my daughter and move on with life the next day.""While being surrounded, there was nothing more I could do than raise my hands in the air and let the police apprehend me. God knows it was the biggest mistake I ever m
Arriving at the prison, Mr. Alexander saw how the prison walls were imposing, resembling a fortress of despair that stood as a testament to the shadows of society. Certainly, he shook his head in regret, as he had never been to a place this horrible before.He observed cold steel bars, like sentinels of incarceration, confining notorious men whose stories were etched in the graffiti of hardened souls. Similarly, he noticed how the air hung heavy with the weight of regret, whispers of past misdeeds echoing through the dimly lit corridors.The sounds of his handcuffs tucked in chains down to his ankle made obvious sounds as he was escorted through the corridor harboring the cells of different notorious men by two prison officers whose faces lacked smiles, as if they hadn't smiled for many notorious years. Hence, he saw individuals behind these cells harboring untold secrets with their unappealing faces and frightful behaviors.Upon witnessing him and the others being escorted to their r
“Detective Sharon, we would love to ask you a few questions if you do not mind. We are sure this would help the public understand more of what is going on,” one reporter said immediately. “Alright, please go ahead. If this would help the general public understand more of what is going on, “Thank you, Detective Sharon. Now that Mr. Alexander, Mr. X, and Attorney Hughes have been sentenced to lengthy prison terms, and Attorney Reynolds is awaiting the outcome of his investigation before he is sentenced, do you think that would be the end of this deadly organization?” “Yes, Mr. X. Mr. Alexander Rosewood and Attorney Hughes have been sentenced to prison for a very long term, and if care is not taken, for life imprisonment. However, this is not the end of the organization. As you might already know, the deadly organization is a large organization that has penetrated every sector, which could even include the police, the prison officers, the legal system, and many more, which could even i