Chapter 34

Nora's sobs echoed down the sterile hallway, mingling with the doctor's futile attempts at comfort. But Alexander heard none of it. My final words reverberated through his mind on an endless loop.

His phone illuminated with a new message from Victoria. [Your father demands your immediate return. Nora and her daughter are insisting on answers.]

He stared at the screen until a bitter laugh escaped him.

Tears splashed against the glass as he chuckled.

How utterly pathetic. He'd believed eliminating the child would restore what we once had. He'd forgotten the Isabella who loved him had died through his countless betrayals.

Upstairs, Wendy stirred from anesthesia. Her hand drifted to her flattened abdomen. A soul-shattering scream tore through the recovery room.

Since learning I couldn't conceive, I'd dedicated myself to supporting orphanages.

With the studio on hiatus, I visited one of the homes I sponsored in my hometown.

Sebastian had become my shadow. He insisted on accompanying me when he learned of my plans. The early winter sun cast gentle warmth across the playground. A dozen children swarmed around me, their voices rising in excited pleas for games.

I knelt to secure a little girl's untied shoelace. She immediately threw her arms around my neck. "Ms. Isabella," she whispered, "you be the mother hen!"

"Alright!" I laughed, spreading my arms to shield my line of giggling chicks.

Their laughter echoed like wind chimes across the yard. I laughed with them, feeling the weight of my anxieties lift and drift away.

Sebastian stood beneath a barren tree, camera poised. He captured every moment silently.

His eyes never left me. Whenever I turned, I found his gentle gaze waiting.

"Ms. Isabella! Look!" A pigtailed girl proudly thrust a paper rabbit toward me.

I accepted the crinkled creation. The gesture reminded me of years ago, when Alexander would clumsily fold paper roses for me.

I smiled. Some memories remain forever etched. Even though I no longer loved Alexander, I'd once cherished his sincerity.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Sebastian appeared beside me, offering a warm cup of water.

"Nothing important." I took the cup. "Just admiring these wonderful children."

He followed my gaze to the classroom where children bent over craft projects. "Are you still struggling to make peace with it?"

I knew he meant my infertility.

My fingers instinctively brushed my abdomen where life had once grown.

"Perhaps a little regretful," I admitted. "But modern medicine offers hope for the future."

"Isabella." Sebastian's voice turned earnest as he met my eyes. "Children aren't meant for inheritance or marital obligations."

He gestured toward the orphanage director helping with crafts. "Look at Ms. Grace. She never married or bore children, yet she's mother to hundreds."

Sunlight through the window illuminated his profile, his lashes casting delicate shadows. My heart fluttered unexpectedly.

His voice softened further. "Never feel inadequate with me because you can't conceive."

"Big brother!" A young boy crashed into Sebastian's legs. "Come play football with us!"

Sebastian shot me an apologetic smile before being dragged away by the eager children.

I watched him run across the field, warmth blossoming in my chest.

As evening fell, I swayed gently on the orphanage swing.

Sebastian approached with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. He handed me one.

"Enjoy today?" he asked.

I sipped the rich, sweet liquid. "Very much. Thank you for coming with me."