CHAPTER 33

The bus ride back to the city was a blur, my thoughts tangled in the chaos of what I'd just uncovered. A fire. A family wiped out. And Angelina at the center of it all. The rumors I'd heard in Ashford weren't concrete, but they were enough to plant doubt—a seed I could cultivate and use against her.

I stepped into my apartment and shut the door behind me, leaning against it as I tried to steady my racing heart. The room felt suffocating, its walls pressing in as my mind replayed everything the waitress and Frank had told me. If Angelina had truly killed her parents, even if it was an accident she tried to cover up, I could destroy her perfect world. But how could I prove it?

The internet was useless for anything beyond the superficial. Her past was sanitized, her new identity scrubbed clean of whatever skeletons had once occupied her closet. If I wanted something solid, I needed more. Evidence. Witnesses. Something I could hold over her head like a dagger.

Pacing the room, I grabbed my phone and dialed John. He picked up on the second ring.

"Isabella," he said, his tone wary. "What now?"

"I found something," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. "Angelina's past isn't as perfect as it seems."

"Yeah? What did you find?"

"She's from some small town called Ashford," I began. "When she was a teenager, her parents died in a house fire. There are rumors—nothing proven—but people there think she had something to do with it."

There was a long pause on the other end.

"Isabella," John said slowly, "you're telling me you think she killed her parents?"

"I don't think anything," I snapped. "But it's suspicious, isn't it? The fire, the name change, the spotless records? She's hiding something, John, and I need you to find out what."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered. "Do you even hear yourself? You're digging into this woman's past while you're pregnant with her husband's child. If she finds out, you could end up in a world of trouble."

"I'm not afraid of her," I said, though my voice wavered slightly.

"Well, you should be," he said sharply. "Women like Angelina don't go down without a fight. And if she's as ruthless as you think, do you really want to provoke her?"

I gripped the edge of the counter, my knuckles turning white. "I don't care," I said through clenched teeth. "Alexander needs to see the truth. He needs to know who she really is."

"And what about your baby?" John demanded. "Is this revenge fantasy of yours really worth putting your child at risk?"

His words stung, but I refused to back down. "This isn't just about me," I said. "It's about protecting my child. Angelina isn't fit to be a mother, and Alexander isn't fit to be a father unless he sees the truth. Now, are you going to help me or not?"

John let out a heavy sigh. "Fine," he said reluctantly. "I'll look into it. But you need to promise me you'll be careful."

"I'll be fine," I said, though we both knew it was a lie.

---

The next few days were agonizing. Every time my phone buzzed, my heart leapt with anticipation, only to sink when it wasn't John. I spent hours obsessing over Angelina's social media, trying to decipher any hidden clues, but her posts were as immaculate as ever.

Finally, on the third day, John called.

"I found something," he said without preamble.

My breath caught. "What is it?"

"It's about Alexander," he said, his voice low. "And Angelina."

"What about them?" I asked impatiently.

"Before they got married, she was pregnant," he said. "With his child."

I froze. "What?"

"She never told him, though," he continued. "At least, not the truth. She told him she had a miscarriage, but according to medical records, it was an abortion."

I sank into the nearest chair, my mind reeling. Angelina had been pregnant with Alexander's child and had chosen to terminate it. And then she'd lied to him about it.

"Are you sure?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Positive," John said. "I found the clinic records. She used her old name, Angela Whitaker, but it's definitely her. And the timeline matches up with when she and Alexander were dating."

A twisted sense of satisfaction bubbled up inside me. This was exactly the kind of leverage I needed. If Alexander found out that Angelina had lied to him about something so monumental, it could destroy their marriage.

"This is perfect," I murmured.

"Isabella, I'm serious," John said. "You need to think this through. If you go down this road, there's no turning back. And if Angelina finds out what you're up to—"

"She won't," I said firmly. "Not until it's too late."

"Just be careful," he said, his tone heavy with resignation.

"I will," I promised, though the words felt hollow.

---

That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as my mind raced with possibilities. The fire. The abortion. Angelina's entire facade was built on lies, and I held the power to unravel it all.

But I knew I needed to be strategic. Dropping everything at once would only make Alexander suspicious, and Angelina would fight back with everything she had. No, I needed to bide my time. To plant seeds of doubt in Alexander's mind, little by little, until he began to see her for what she really was.

And when the moment was right, I would strike.

As I placed a protective hand on my belly, I felt a surge of determination. This wasn't just about revenge anymore—it was about securing a future for my child. A future where Alexander was mine, and Angelina was nothing but a distant memory.

The game had truly begun.