CHAPTER 35

Alexander sat in his car, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. His heart was still racing from the encounter with Isabella. Seeing her had done something to him, something he didn't quite understand. It was like the wind had been knocked out of him the moment his eyes landed on her. And then there was her belly. Her pregnant belly.

He closed his eyes, the image burning itself into his mind. He'd forced himself to walk away from her months ago, convincing himself it was the right thing to do, the only thing to do. But now? Now he wasn't so sure.

The past few months had been hell. His marriage to Angelina was unraveling, and he felt it slipping further out of his grasp with each passing day. The fights had started small—an offhand comment here, a lingering suspicion there—but they'd escalated into full-blown arguments that left the house feeling like a battlefield.

It wasn't as though Angelina knew about Isabella. She didn't even have solid proof that he was cheating, but considering his history, she didn't need it.

"I know you're hiding something," she'd said just last week, her voice sharp and accusing.

"I'm not," he'd replied, feigning exhaustion. "It's work. The stress is killing me, Angela. You're imagining things."

But she wasn't imagining anything. Alexander's mind wasn't on work. It wasn't on his family. It was on Isabella.

He'd tried to shake her from his thoughts, tried to drown the memory of her in meaningless distractions. He'd had one-night stands with women whose names he didn't bother to learn, spent nights at the bar drinking more than he should, and thrown himself into work in an effort to fill the void she'd left. But none of it worked.

Isabella haunted him.

Her laughter, her touch, the way she used to look at him like he was the center of her world—it was all burned into his memory. And now, the thought of her carrying his child added a new layer of torment he couldn't escape.

He leaned back in his seat, staring at the ceiling of the car. What is wrong with me? he thought. He'd cheated before. Plenty of times. It wasn't something he was proud of, but it was who he was.

And he had rules—rules that kept him from getting too close, from making things messy. No emotional attachments. No promises of a future. No falling in love.

But with Isabella, he'd broken every rule.

He thought back to the moment she told him she was pregnant. She'd been so hopeful, so vulnerable, and he'd shattered her without a second thought. He could still see the pain in her eyes when he told her to "take care of it," could still hear the crack in her voice when she asked if she meant nothing to him.

At the time, he'd told himself it was necessary. He couldn't let his perfect life fall apart. Angelina was the cornerstone of the image he'd spent years crafting: the devoted husband, the loving father, the successful businessman. She made him look good, and she kept his secrets. She had to. Because if she ever turned on him, if she ever decided to expose the truth about his past, it would ruin him.

And yet, for all his careful planning, Isabella had managed to wedge herself into his heart. He hated himself for it. Hated the way she made him feel like his perfect life wasn't so perfect after all.

Was it guilt? Maybe. He'd forced women to get abortions before, and he'd never thought twice about it. But with Isabella, it was different. She wasn't just another fling. She wasn't disposable. He didn't know why, but she'd gotten under his skin in a way no one else ever had.

And that scared him.

When he saw her in the store, he hadn't planned to approach her. He'd told himself it was better to let her go, to leave her in the past where she belonged. But the moment their eyes met, all his resolve crumbled.

She looked so beautiful, even in her anger. Her rolling eyes and dismissive attitude were meant to push him away, but all they did was pull him closer. And then there was the baby. Their baby. The life he'd tried to erase without even considering her feelings.

He regretted it all. The lies, the betrayal, the way he'd made her feel like she was his entire world only to rip it away.

But regret didn't change the facts.

He couldn't be with her.

No matter how much he wanted to hold her, to apologize, to tell her he still loved her, he couldn't. Because loving Isabella meant losing everything he'd worked so hard to build.

Angelina would destroy him if she ever found out. She wasn't stupid, and she wasn't forgiving. She'd already overlooked so much for the sake of their family, but this? This would be the breaking point. She'd expose his affairs, his illegitimate children, his hypocrisy. She'd take their kids, his money, and the life he'd built.

And he couldn't let that happen.

So, as much as it killed him, he knew he had to stay with Angelina. He had to keep playing the role of the perfect husband and father, even if it meant sacrificing the only woman who had ever truly made him feel alive.

But seeing Isabella today had shaken him. He wasn't sure how much longer he could pretend she didn't matter. Because no matter how hard he tried to forget her, she was always there, lingering in the back of his mind, reminding him of everything he'd lost.

And now, with the baby on the way, things were only going to get more complicated.

As he started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, he couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't over. Isabella might have told him to stay away, but he wasn't sure he could.

Not when his heart still ached for her.

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