CHAPTER 22

I sat in my car, parked just outside the gleaming skyscraper that housed Alexander's company. My hands trembled on the steering wheel, and I could feel the pulse in my neck beating at an almost erratic pace. The city lights reflected on the glass of the building, making it look like some untouchable fortress. My fortress had crumbled, and now, I was here to confront the man who had caused the wreckage.

I picked up my phone, staring at the blank message screen.

What do I even say?

I typed and deleted several drafts, each one sounding more desperate or angrier than the last. Finally, I settled on something that felt as close to my feelings as I could manage:

"I'm in the parking lot of your company. You have two options: come down and meet me, or I'm walking in there and making a scene. Your choice."

I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the "send" button. This wasn't me. I wasn't the kind of person who made threats, let alone ones like this. But something inside me had snapped. The betrayal, the lies, the heartbreak—it was all too much.

I hit send before I could overthink it.

The minutes that followed felt like an eternity. My heart raced as I stared at my phone, waiting for a reply. Each second felt heavier than the last, and I wondered if I had pushed too far. Maybe he would ignore me. Maybe he'd send security to escort me off the premises.

But then my phone buzzed.

"Wait there. Someone will come for you."

That was it. No apology, no explanation, just those cold, detached words. I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting back the surge of emotions threatening to take over.

Moments later, a tall, broad-shouldered man in a suit appeared at the entrance. His expression was unreadable, but there was no mistaking the intimidating aura he exuded. He approached my car and motioned for me to follow him.

I stepped out of the car, clutching my purse tightly, and followed the man into the building. The lobby was as lavish as I expected—polished marble floors, towering glass walls, and a massive chandelier that screamed opulence. But none of it mattered. My focus was singular: Alexander.

The elevator ride felt suffocating. The man said nothing, and I couldn't bring myself to make small talk. When the doors opened, he led me down a long hallway to a set of double doors. Without a word, he opened them, gesturing for me to enter.

Alexander was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to me. He was on the phone, speaking in low, clipped tones that hinted at his irritation. When he turned around and saw me, his expression darkened immediately.

He ended the call abruptly and crossed his arms. "What the hell are you doing here, Isabella?"

His tone was sharp, almost venomous.

I stood frozen for a moment, the weight of everything I wanted to say pressing down on me. But his arrogance, his complete lack of remorse, ignited something in me.

"Why didn't you answer my calls? Why are you avoiding me?" I demanded, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt.

He rolled his eyes, his posture rigid. "I told you to only call me when you've handled the situation."

My jaw tightened. "The situation?" I repeated, my voice rising. "You mean the child in my belly? Your child?"

He sighed heavily, rubbing his temples as if I were some nuisance he had to deal with. "I told you, Isabella. I don't want that. You've complicated everything."

"I complicated everything?" My voice cracked as tears filled my eyes. "You're the one who lied to me, who made me believe in something that was never real!"

He groaned, stepping closer. "This is why I didn't want to get involved with someone like you. You're too emotional, too—"

I didn't let him finish. My hand shot out, slapping him across the face with all the force I could muster. The sound echoed in the room, a sharp crack that silenced him instantly.

His head snapped to the side, and for a moment, he just stood there, stunned.

"How dare you," I hissed, my voice trembling with rage. "How dare you call me emotional when you're the one who lied? You're the one who pretended to love me, who made me feel like I was your world, when all along, I was just some side piece to you!"

His eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I know plenty." I stepped closer, my fists clenched at my sides. "I know about your wife, Alexander. I know about Angelina. I know about your children. And I know about all the other women you've done this to. Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I wouldn't find out?"

His face went pale, and for the first time, I saw something that looked like fear in his eyes.

"How do you—"

"Does it matter?" I interrupted, my voice rising. "Does it matter how I found out? The point is, I know. I know who you really are. You're a liar, a manipulator, a coward who runs from his problems and hides behind his money."

He tried to speak, but I didn't give him the chance.

"You made me believe in you," I said, my voice breaking. "You made me think you were different, that you cared about me. But it was all a lie, wasn't it? I was just another conquest to you, wasn't I?"

He took a step back, his hands raised defensively. "It's not like that, Isabella. You don't understand—"

"Then explain it to me!" I screamed, tears streaming down my face. "Explain why you made me fall in love with you, why you promised me a future, only to rip it all away!"

For a moment, he said nothing. He just stood there, staring at me with an expression I couldn't decipher.

"I never meant for it to get this far," he said finally, his voice quiet. "You were just supposed to be... an escape. A distraction from everything."

"An escape?" I repeated, my voice dripping with disbelief. "I was an escape to you? Do you even realize what you've done to me? What you've done to us?"

He looked away, his jaw tightening. "I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted you to get pregnant. I can't... I can't handle this right now."

I laughed bitterly, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. "You can't handle it? You? Do you have any idea what I've been going through? I'm the one who has to carry this child, who has to deal with the fact that the man I loved was never who he claimed to be!"

"I told you from the beginning that I wasn't looking for anything serious," he snapped, his voice rising.

"No, you didn't!" I shouted. "You made me believe in you. You made me think that we had something real. And now you're blaming me for believing in your lies?"

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. "I don't know what you want me to say, Isabella."

"I want you to tell me the truth," I said, my voice trembling. "Why did you do this? Why did you lie to me? Was any of it real?"

For a long moment, he didn't answer. And in that silence, I got my answer.

I took a shaky breath, my chest heaving with the weight of everything I was feeling. "You're a coward, Alexander. A selfish, heartless coward. And I hope one day, you realize just how much you've destroyed."

I turned to leave, but before I could reach the door, he spoke.

"Isabella," he said softly.

I paused, my hand on the doorknob.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

I didn't look back.

"You don't get to be sorry," I said, my voice cold. "Not anymore."

And with that, I walked out, leaving him behind.