CHAPTER 42

It had been a few weeks since everything had come crashing down. Alexander had lost it all—the life he had so carefully constructed, the family he had built, the image he had projected for years. The past few weeks felt like a blur of chaos, of painful realizations and irreversible consequences. But no matter how much he tried to numb himself, to escape from it all, the ache in his chest remained, gnawing at him.

Angelina had been arrested for the murder of her parents. The shocking revelation had sent shockwaves through the media, her dark past now exposed for the world to see. No one had expected that. Not even Alexander, who had believed, for all those years, that his wife was a woman with dignity and purity. But the truth had come crashing down, and the world was watching as his entire life disintegrated before his eyes.

But it wasn't just Angelina's arrest that had torn his world apart. No, it was the fallout from his own actions—the endless string of lies, the cheating, the forced abortions, the betrayals. His children, the two precious little souls he had tried so hard to protect, were taken away from him. He couldn't even bring himself to call them or hold them. They were gone.

His parents, the very people who had supported him through everything, had severed ties with him. They couldn't stand the shame, the disgrace that now clung to their son. The company he had spent years building crumbled into dust, its stock plummeting, its reputation tarnished beyond repair. He no longer had a legacy. The business world no longer saw him as the successful, powerful man he had once been—they saw him as a failure, a liar, a cheater.

Yet, despite all of that, there was one thing he still had. The money he had invested in real estate, the apartment buildings he owned, had managed to survive the storm. He still had wealth. But wealth didn't matter. What was the point of it all if he had no family, no friends, no company? The money felt hollow, empty, like it was only a reminder of everything he had lost.

Alexander sat in his empty house, the silence surrounding him like a suffocating fog. His once immaculate home was now a ghost of what it used to be. The expensive furniture, the elegant decor—it all seemed so meaningless now. He stared at the half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand, his eyes glazed over. He had been drinking to forget, to drown out the pain, but it wasn't working. It never worked. The ache in his chest never went away.

His heart ached for his children. His beautiful children who he would never be able to see again. He thought about them every day—how they had looked at him with such trust in their eyes, how they had called him "Daddy" with so much love. And now they were gone. His mind replayed the moments he had taken for granted—the birthdays, the quiet evenings at home, the simple joy of watching them grow. He had lost it all. And now, there was nothing left to hold on to.

But it wasn't just the loss of his family that hurt. It was Isabella. She was the one that haunted his thoughts, the one he couldn't escape. The woman he had betrayed, the woman who had trusted him, who had loved him. He had made so many mistakes with her, hurt her in ways that were unforgivable. And now, as he sat in the wreckage of his life, he realized the depth of the pain he had caused her.

The image of her haunted him—her face, her eyes, the way she had looked at him with so much love and hope. And he had destroyed that. He had taken everything from her, made her feel like she wasn't worth anything, like she was just a pawn in his game. He had pushed her away, made her feel like she was nothing. And now, he was paying the price.

He picked up a framed picture from the side table, the picture of Isabella that he had kept hidden away for so long. It was from a time when everything had seemed so perfect. She was smiling, her eyes bright with laughter, her hair falling around her face in soft waves. The memory of that moment crushed him. He had been so foolish, so blind. He had let her slip through his fingers, and now he didn't know how to get her back.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to the picture, his voice trembling with emotion. He felt tears well up in his eyes, the weight of everything he had done crashing down on him all at once. "I'm so sorry, Isabella."

He closed his eyes, imagining her face, imagining the way she had looked when she had found out the truth—the pain, the betrayal. He had never seen her so broken, so lost. And he had been the one to break her. Now, it felt like he had broken himself.

The guilt gnawed at him. He had always been good at hiding his emotions, burying them deep inside. But now, there was no escaping it. He couldn't run from what he had done. And the worst part was, he couldn't fix it. He had lost her, and there was no going back.

"I'll make it right," he promised to the empty room, though he knew deep down that it was probably too late. "I'll make it right. I'll do whatever it takes to get you back. I swear."

But even as the words left his mouth, he knew how impossible it seemed. Isabella was gone, and she had every right to be. He had treated her like she didn't matter, like she was nothing more than a fleeting moment in his life. He had betrayed her trust, taken away her happiness, and now, she was out of reach.

Alexander's heart felt heavy as he sank into the couch, the tears falling freely now. He had lost everything. His marriage, his children, his company, his reputation, his family. But the one thing he regretted most was losing Isabella. The woman he had never truly understood until it was too late.

He sat there for what felt like hours, the weight of his regrets pressing down on him. He had built his life on lies, on manipulation, on selfishness. And now, he was paying the price.

But no matter how much he hurt, no matter how much he wished he could turn back time, he knew one thing for sure—he would do whatever it took to get her back. No matter how long it took, no matter what he had to sacrifice, he would find a way to make things right.

Even if it meant destroying himself in the process.

The thought of Isabella lingered in his mind as he sat there alone in the silence. He whispered again, more urgently this time, "I'll make it right, Isabella. I promise. I will make it right."

And as he sat there, staring at the picture of her, the pain in his chest didn't fade. It only grew stronger. But this time, he knew why it hurt. It was because he had lost the one person who had ever truly mattered.

Isabella.