Chapter 3 Mother?

Suddenly, Isabella was jolted awake from her fearful reverie as the SUV came to an abrupt halt. The harsh, sudden stop sent a shockwave of adrenaline through her veins. The vehicle's engine cut off, and she could hear the muffled sounds of voices outside, but the blindfold left her in complete darkness.

Without warning, rough hands grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her out of the car. The abrupt motion made her heart race even faster, and she struggled to make sense of what was happening. Her feet barely touched the ground as she was dragged forward, her hands gripping uselessly at the air.

"Wait, where are you taking me?" she cried out, her voice breaking with panic, but no one answered. The men's grip was unyielding, their movements swift and practiced. She tried to twist away, but the strong hands held her firmly, not giving her any chance to escape.

Her senses were overwhelmed by the cacophony of new sounds: the crunch of gravel underfoot, the distant hum of machinery, and the low murmur of voices. Every sound seemed amplified in her blindfolded state, heightening her anxiety and disorientation.

They moved quickly, her feet stumbling over uneven ground as they dragged her forward. The cold night air was now mixed with the scent of industrial cleaner and freshly cut grass, signaling that they had arrived at a different location. Isabella could feel the rough texture of a wooden door or a gate against her skin as they shoved her through, and her sense of dread grew.

"Please, just tell me what's going on!" she begged, but her pleas were met with silence. The men continued their relentless pace, guiding her through a series of turns and steps that made her head spin.

Finally, they stopped and forced her to sit down on what felt like a soft chair or a couch. The blindfold was still firmly in place, leaving her in a suffocating darkness. Her breathing was rapid and uneven, her chest heaving with each panicked breath. The sudden change in environment and the rough handling left her feeling helpless and terrified.

"Oh, my baby's grown up so much," a mature feminine voice echoed through the room, soft yet fake. Isabella froze, her heart still racing as she tried to process the situation.

"Remove the blindfold," the woman ordered calmly, her voice authoritative but dripping with false sweetness.

Isabella winced as a rough hand yanked the blindfold off her eyes, the fabric scraping against her skin. She blinked rapidly, her vision adjusting to the sudden light. Her chest heaved with rapid, shallow breaths as her body remained tense, ready to react. Every fiber of her being was on high alert.

She slowly raised her eyes, trying to make sense of her surroundings, and her gaze landed on a middle-aged woman standing a few feet in front of her. The woman was dressed in an elegant, floor-length dress that shimmered under the soft lights. Around her neck hung a necklace, the stones glittering in the dim room, and her ears were adorned with matching earrings—both of which looked far too expensive.

Her face was composed and clam, with a light layer of makeup accentuating her sharp features. The woman's dark choklate hair was straight and perfectly styled, falling neatly past her shoulders. In her hand, she held an expensive phone, tapping it absentmindedly as if Isabella's presence was nothing out of the ordinary.

Isabella's throat tightened, her pulse quickening as she stared at the woman. She seemed refined, elegant… yet there was something cold in her eyes, something calculating behind that clam face. Isabella wanted to speak, to ask who she was and why she had been brought here, but her voice felt trapped in her throat.

"Not bad... not bad," the woman muttered under her breath, her sharp eyes scanning Isabella from head to toe. She took her time, examining every inch of her as if assessing a piece of property.

Isabella sat still, her long, thick brown hair cascading down her shoulders. Her face, small and delicate, held a natural fairness, and her large, deer-like eyes brimmed with a mix of fear and confusion. Her plump pink lips quivered slightly, and though her frame was petite, her figure was perfectly proportioned, a fact that seemed to draw the woman's attention even more.

"Listen, Isabella," the woman began, her lips curling into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. There was something eerie in her tone, something calculating behind the mask of gentleness she tried to wear. "I am your mother... Jessica."

Isabella froze at those words. Her body went rigid, her breath caught in her throat. Mother? Her mother was long gone—she never even knew her. All she had ever known was her father and her grandmother. They were the only family she had. This woman… this stranger… couldn't possibly be her mother.

"No… no, you're lying!" Isabella shouted, her voice shaking but filled with defiance. She took a step back, her heart pounding as fear turned into anger. "You're the bad guy! You kidnapped me!"

Jessica's smile faltered for a brief moment, her expression tightening as a flicker of annoyance passed through her eyes. But she quickly regained her composure, her face returning to its fake mask of warmth and tenderness, though her gaze had hardened. "Now, now, Isabella," Jessica said, her voice as sweet as poison. "I know this must be confusing for you. But I assure you, I'm not your enemy."

Isabella's pulse quickened as she watched Jessica's aura shift. The coldness behind that elegant face was undeniable. Even though Jessica tried to maintain an air of calm, Isabella could see the sternness creeping into her features, the way her fake smile barely held its shape. There was no love, no connection in those words. Only control. Only power.

And Isabella could feel it.

"Baby, let me hug you!" Jessica suddenly cried out, her voice breaking as fake tears welled up in her eyes. "Because of your father, we were separated from the moment you were born." Her voice trembled, and before Isabella could react, Jessica sank down beside her on the couch, her arms reaching out as if to embrace her. Tears began to streak down her perfectly made-up face, as though she were playing the part of a heartbroken mother to perfection.