Chapter 4
Isabella’s POV
“Don’t think pretending to be pitiful will make me keep you as my stepmother!”
“If you have the guts to leave, never come back!”
The sharp arrow flew straight toward me, loaded with the boy’s bitter rage.
I barely moved in time, but it still sliced deep into my shoulder.
A raw cry tore from my throat.
Alexander was at my side instantly, holding me as I clenched my teeth against the pain.
“I’m so sorry, Isabella,” he cried out.
Just then, Sophia screamed, and Liam shouted too.
“Papa, come quick! Aunt Sophia twisted her ankle running to help that witch!” Liam yelled.
Alexander looked torn, his eyes darting between my bleeding shoulder and Sophia’s dramatic fall.
He released me with a heavy sigh.
“It’s a clean wound, Isabella. Go to the hospital—I’ll meet you there. Sophia can’t walk; I have to take her,” he said.
I didn’t let my disappointment show.
I stayed on the ground, watching him walk away from me—again.
He carried Sophia in his arms, bridal style.
She shot me a smug look as they got into the car and drove off with Liam.
There I was, left alone on the cold floor, bleeding from a wound given by the child I had raised, trained, and taught to shoot.
Life could be so cruel.
I struggled to stand when I heard footsteps behind me.
“You wretched girl! Why are you still here? Didn’t you tell the whole city you were leaving?”
I knew that voice. It was Eleanor, Alexander’s mother. She had always despised me.
I forced myself up and turned to face her.
She gasped when she saw my injury and the blood staining my clothes.
“Trying to frame my son? If you want to die, do it somewhere else!” she spat.
“I was leaving when your grandson shot me,” I replied coldly.
She laughed mockingly. “Hurt yourself and now blaming a child? You’re just acting pitiful so Alexander pities you. You lost your place here the moment you decided to go.”
“I want nothing from you or your family, Eleanor. Your grandson did this!” I snapped.
She smirked. “Then you won’t mind getting out.”
Before I could respond, she snatched my luggage and threw it outside the gate.
“Get out!” she hissed, shoving me out too. “Go die somewhere else. Leave my son alone.”
I stumbled and fell, clutching my bleeding shoulder.
“You’ll regret this,” I vowed, fury burning in my chest.
I gathered my boxes just as my Uber pulled up.
“Sorry I’m late, Miss,” the driver said.
“It’s fine,” I muttered, sliding into the back seat.
He eyed my shoulder. “Still heading to the airport?”
I shook my head. “Take me to the hospital first.”
I leaned back and closed my eyes, exhaustion taking over.
I woke to the steady beeping of an EKG machine.
I was in a hospital room. My arm throbbed with pain when I tried to sit up.
My boxes were stacked neatly beside the bed.
The door opened, and a doctor walked in.
“Miss Isabella, how are you feeling?” he asked.
I groaned. “What happened? Last thing I remember, I was in a cab.”
The doctor nodded. “You passed out before arriving. The Uber driver brought you in.”
I checked my phone. I’d missed my flight.
A new text waited. I replied quickly.
Something came up. Reschedule my flight ASAP.
“Miss Isabella?” The doctor pulled my attention back.
I lifted a brow. “Yes?”
“You lost a lot of blood, but you’ve been treated. You’ll be discharged soon,” he explained.
I nodded. “Thank you.”
He smiled and left. I stood and reached for my boxes.
Not a single call or message from Alexander.
His son shot me, and he couldn’t even check if I was alive.
The door swung open.
Sophia walked in, looking pleased with herself.
I rolled my eyes.
“What do you want? I thought you twisted your ankle,” I said flatly.
She giggled. “Oh, that? I just wanted to see who Alexander would choose. And he picked me! Exciting, isn’t it?”
I scoffed. “Have your fun, Sophia. I’m leaving.”
She stepped in front of me, a smug smile on her lips.
“There’s something you should know,” she said, voice dripping with pride. “I’m pregnant. With Alexander’s baby.”
The air left my lungs.
My heart shattered, but I refused to let it show.
I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
Eight years.
Eight years by his side, and I was never more than a shadow.
He always made me take birth control right after he was done with me.
He always wanted another child.
Just not with me.