CHAPTER 20
The call from John left me in a haze, my mind buzzing with unanswered questions and dread. By the time he arrived at my apartment, my anxiety had bloomed into full-blown fear. I had spent the morning pacing, cleaning, and rubbing my belly absently, trying to convince myself that whatever John found couldn't be as bad as I was imagining.
When I opened the door to let him in, his expression alone told me that I was wrong.
"Hey," he said softly, stepping inside. His eyes swept over the apartment, lingering on the expensive furnishings, the plush rugs, and the artwork on the walls. "This place… it's incredible, Isabella."
"It doesn't feel like it," I admitted, my voice flat. "It feels like a gilded cage."
His brow furrowed, but he didn't comment. I motioned for him to follow me into the kitchen, where I busied myself making coffee. The silence between us was heavy, weighted with unspoken truths.
When we finally sat down at the dining table, John placed a folder on the table. It looked thick, the papers inside threatening to spill out. My stomach churned.
"I did what you asked," he said, his tone cautious. "I dug deep. And Isabella… I need you to prepare yourself. What I found isn't pretty."
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I took a deep breath, gripping the edge of the table. "Just tell me, John. I can't keep living in the dark."
He hesitated, then opened the folder. "Let's start from the beginning," he said.
"Alexander Harrington," he began, "grew up in New York. His father was a real estate tycoon, and his mother was a socialite. They were wealthy, influential, and from the outside, it looked like they had the perfect life. But behind closed doors, it was a different story."
I leaned forward, my heart pounding.
"His father was a notorious womanizer," John continued. "And his mother… well, she turned a blind eye to it. She was more interested in maintaining appearances than confronting her husband's infidelity. Alexander grew up watching his father cheat on his mother over and over again."
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"That's horrible," I murmured, though I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the young boy Alexander must have been.
"It was," John agreed. "But it shaped him. He learned from his father's behavior, and unfortunately, he seems to have followed in his footsteps."
"What do you mean?" I asked, though deep down, I already knew the answer.
John took a deep breath. "Alexander is married, Isabella. He's been married for ten years to a woman named Angelina. She's a lawyer—successful, beautiful, and from what I can tell, deeply in love with him. They have two kids, a seven-year-old son and a five-year-old daughter."
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The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Married. Kids. My vision blurred, and I blinked rapidly to clear it.
"You're lying," I whispered, though I knew he wasn't.
"I wish I was," John said, his voice gentle. "But it's the truth. I've seen the records. They own a house together, and Angelina's name is on all of his business documents as a co-owner. They're a team, Isabella. Or at least, they're supposed to be."
Tears streamed down my face, and I shook my head. "No… no, he told me he loved me. He said I was special."
John's expression was pained. "You're not the first, Isabella. Alexander has a history of affairs with younger women. He preys on women your age, promising them the world. But when things get serious—especially if they get pregnant—he panics."
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I froze, my hand moving instinctively to my belly. "What do you mean?"
"He's forced at least three women to have abortions," John said quietly. "He promises to stay with them if they go through with it. But once they do, he cuts all ties. He's done this before, Isabella. And I'm sorry, but… I think he's trying to do it again."
The room felt like it was spinning. My chest tightened, and I struggled to breathe.
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"Why didn't I see it?" I whispered, my voice breaking. "Why didn't I see the signs?"
"Because he's a master manipulator," John said firmly. "He knows how to say the right things, how to make you feel special. But it's all an act, Isabella. It's a mask he wears."
I buried my face in my hands, sobbing uncontrollably. John reached across the table, placing a comforting hand on my arm.
"You're not stupid, Isabella," he said gently. "You trusted him. You believed in him. That's not a crime."
---
For a long time, we sat in silence, the weight of the revelations pressing down on me. When I finally found my voice, it was shaky.
"What else?" I asked. "What else did you find?"
John hesitated, then flipped through the papers in the folder. "His wife, Angelina… she's caught him cheating multiple times. Each time, she's tried to forgive him. But the trust is gone. From what I've gathered, they're currently going through a rough patch, which might explain why Alexander has been spending so much time with you. I think… I think he's using you as an escape."
The words felt like daggers to my heart.
"And the baby?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
John's expression softened. "I can't say for sure how he feels, but based on his history… it's clear he doesn't want it. That's probably why he reacted the way he did."
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I nodded numbly, tears streaming down my face. "Thank you, John," I whispered.
He stood, his expression somber. "If you need anything, Isabella, anything at all, just call me. I'm here for you."
When he left, I was alone again, the weight of the truth crushing down on me. I sat on the floor, clutching my belly, crying until there were no tears left.
The man I thought I knew, the man I thought I loved, was a stranger. And now, I was left to pick up the pieces of my shattered life, not just for myself, but for the child growing inside me.
As night fell, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, my mind racing. I didn't know what the future held, but one thing was certain: I couldn't trust Alexander anymore. And I couldn't let him destroy me or my child.