Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: A Heart Divided

The air in the villa grew thick with tension, a storm of emotions brewing between the three of them. Isabella stood frozen in place, her heart hammering wildly in her chest as Nicholas's demand echoed in her ears.

So choose. Right here. Right now.

She swallowed hard, glancing between the two men—the man who had offered her stability and the man who had always owned her heart. The weight of the decision pressed down on her, suffocating, inescapable.

"Isabella," Nicholas's voice was tight with frustration, his eyes dark with hurt. "You owe me an answer."

She flinched at the pain laced in his words. He had been good to her. He had never raised his voice, never treated her cruelly. And yet… their love had always felt like a well-constructed façade, something built out of convenience rather than true passion.

Then there was Alexander—standing tall, his eyes burning with the same fire that had once consumed her. Being with him had never been easy, never predictable. But it had been real.

She took a shaky breath, finally finding her voice. "Nicholas… I never wanted to hurt you."

His jaw clenched. "But you did."

"I know." Her voice broke. "And I hate myself for it."

He let out a bitter chuckle. "Yet, you still love him, don't you?"

Isabella's breath caught in her throat. For the first time, she had no strength left to deny it. Slowly, her gaze drifted to Alexander, and the way he looked at her—like she was the only thing in the world that mattered—told her everything she needed to know.

"Yes," she whispered. "I do."

Nicholas inhaled sharply, his body going rigid as if the words had physically struck him. He turned away for a moment, hands clenched into fists before he forced himself to meet her gaze again.

"I should have known," he murmured, his voice low, resigned. "From the moment you looked at him that night at the gala… I should have seen it."

Guilt twisted inside her, but she knew prolonging the inevitable would only make things worse. "I never wanted to betray you, Nicholas. But I can't pretend anymore."

A bitter smile tugged at his lips. "No, I don't suppose you can." He exhaled deeply, shaking his head. "I would have given you everything, Isabella. I would have spent my life making sure you never lacked a thing."

Tears welled in her eyes. "I know. And I'm so sorry."

His expression hardened. "Don't be. Just don't expect me to wish you happiness."

Without another word, he turned and walked out, the sound of the door slamming behind him reverberating through the villa.

Isabella felt like the breath had been knocked from her lungs. She wanted to collapse, to cry, to scream—but before she could, she felt Alexander's strong arms wrap around her, pulling her against his chest.

"You did the right thing," he murmured against her hair.

She closed her eyes, letting herself sink into his warmth. "Then why does it feel like I just shattered everything?"

"Because you have a heart," Alexander said gently, tilting her chin up so their eyes met. "But loving me shouldn't feel like guilt, Isabella."

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I just hurt a man who didn't deserve it."

Alexander cupped her face in his hands, his touch warm and steady. "Love isn't about what we deserve. It's about what's real. And what's real is us."

Her breath hitched at the conviction in his voice, at the depth of emotion in his eyes. She had spent so long denying herself this moment, this love. And now that she had finally chosen him, she needed to stop looking back.

"I don't want to run anymore," she whispered.

His lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. "Then don't."

And then he kissed her.

It wasn't a kiss of desperation or uncertainty. It was a kiss of promise—of a future built on love, not obligation. He kissed her deeply, pouring every ounce of love, passion, and devotion he had into that moment.

Isabella melted into him, her hands sliding up his chest, her fingers tangling in his hair. He deepened the kiss, pulling her flush against him as if trying to erase every second they had spent apart.

When they finally pulled away, breathless, Alexander pressed his forehead against hers. "You're mine now, Isabella. No more doubts. No more running."

She smiled, a real, genuine smile. "Yours."

A light chuckle escaped him. "Say it again."

She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing. "I'm yours, Alexander."

His eyes darkened with need, but there was something deeper behind it—something that told her he wouldn't just love her in the moment, but for a lifetime.

"Forever," he murmured before capturing her lips once more.

And for the first time in years, Isabella finally felt free.

To be continued…