Chapter 90

"Why?" Nathaniel's brows furrowed, tension flickering in his gaze.

He had no idea how long he'd spent psyching himself up to say I'm sorry. A whole damn week without sleep!

He'd planned to apologize to her at his grandfather's birthday dinner, but after seeing Dominic strut into her house tonight, he realized he couldn't wait another second. He needed to see her—now.

He didn’t understand this urgency. He’d never felt anything like it before.

His emotions had always been controlled, precise. But right now, he was starting to realize—the switch controlling them wasn’t in his hands anymore. It was in hers.

"If anyone should apologize, it should be Victoria herself. What are you doing, playing the gallant knight for her? Trying to flaunt your perfect little romance?"

Isabella's voice was ice. "If she murdered someone, would you take the blame for her too?"

"Isabella, I’m here to apologize to you—sincerely!" Nathaniel's voice cracked, his eyes burning.

"I think you’re just here to piss me off." Isabella let out a bitter laugh, her gaze sharp as shattered glass. "Nathaniel, if you don’t understand the meaning of sorry, don’t use the word. You’ll only taint it."

"Isabella, are you trying to pick a fight with me?" His tone darkened.

"You’re the one who showed up uninvited. I didn’t ask for this. You came here to make yourself miserable."

She yanked her wrist free, wincing at the pain. "Let go. I’m going home."

"Even if I’m apologizing for Victoria, so what? I still apologized! What more do you want?!" Nathaniel snapped, gripping her shoulders hard enough to bruise.

"Nathaniel, what I wanted was never an apology from you."

What she’d truly wanted was his love. But she’d accepted long ago that she’d never have it. She’d let him go—so why was he still here? Did he think she was that desperate?

A bitter laugh escaped her, tears welling in her eyes.

At that moment, her gaze burned like fire—bright, beautiful, devastating. Nathaniel felt scorched by it, his pulse racing.

"I want you to disappear from my world. Completely. Goodbye. Don’t bother seeing yourself out."

She shoved him away, but he caught her wrist again, his grip iron. "How can I disappear? We were married. You can’t erase divorce from your life like it never happened!"

"I can if I say I can. You may think we’re divorced, but in my eyes, I’m a widow." Her stare was pure contempt, like he was nothing more than dirt beneath her heel.

The words hit him like a physical blow. His head spun, pain lancing through him.

He sucked in a sharp breath, his hand trembling as he growled, "Isabella. I won’t let you go. As long as I don’t sign those papers, you’ll never be free."

Slap!

Tears blurred Isabella’s usually steady gaze. She couldn’t hold back anymore—her palm struck his cheek with a sharp crack.

This was only the second time she’d ever hit him. But the emotions behind it were nothing like the first.

His words had pierced her heart like a blade.

"Nathaniel, if I’d known you were this pathetic, I would’ve never married you in the first place!"

She flung the car door open and bolted toward the mansion, not even bothering with her umbrella. She just needed to get away—far away from him.

Nathaniel sat frozen, his face still turned from the force of her slap.

Minutes passed. His tall frame curled inward, arms wrapping around his pounding head as he trembled, looking utterly broken.

Back inside, Isabella avoided Jason and headed straight for her room.

She barely made it up the stairs before collapsing against the wall, one hand clutching her chest as she gasped for air, fighting back the tears threatening to spill.

Isabella?

Dominic’s voice came from behind her. She bit her lip hard, forcing the tears down. She wouldn’t let him see her like this.

"I’m tired. I need to rest. Thanks for the gift—I’ll see you out another time."

"Isabella, what’s wrong?" His voice was laced with worry.

"I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Goodnight."

Isabella!

He caught up in two strides, gripping her shoulders and forcing her to face him. The sudden movement made her dizzy, her tear-filled eyes flashing with raw pain.

It only made her more mesmerizing.

"You’ve been crying." His gaze burned into hers.

"No." Her voice was cold, but the redness around her eyes betrayed her.

"Isabella, don’t let Nathaniel get to you. He’s not worth your tears."

"Yeah. Not worth it," she murmured, numb.

Dominic exhaled sharply. Her shattered expression cut deeper than any blade.

"Isabella… why don’t you give me a chance?"

Her brows knitted together.

"Try accepting me. I might not be a saint, but for you—I’d become one."

Couldn’t he measure up? Not even to Nathaniel?

"Dominic, I’m exhausted. Don’t make this harder than it already is." Her voice was hollow.

"Isabella—" His breath hitched, heart aching.

"It’s late. I need sleep. You should go home."

She pushed past him, heading for her room.

"Are you and Sebastian really together? What’s going on between you two? Is this real, or are you just using him to hurt Nathaniel?"

Isabella froze, fists clenching in the shadows. "That’s none of your business."

"There’s no trace of him here. If he’s your boyfriend, why aren’t his things in your house? Why doesn’t it look like he’s ever stayed over?"

"I said—it’s none of your concern. Stay out of my life."

"Isabella! Don’t destroy yourself like this. Don’t do something you’ll regret!" His voice was raw with desperation.

She didn’t answer. Didn’t look back. Just walked away, leaving him standing there.

Nathaniel drove back from Isabella’s place to Windermere Estate. A trip that usually took less than an hour stretched into two.

A splitting headache blurred his vision. The pounding rain made it worse—he nearly crashed twice.

Bursting into his study, he knocked over everything in his path searching for painkillers. When he finally found the bottle, he dry-swallowed double the usual dose.

It didn’t help.

"Nathaniel, if I’d known you were this pathetic, I would’ve never married you in the first place!"

Her words echoed in his skull, relentless. His body curled in agony, sweat soaking his shirt.

Hearing the commotion, Margaret rushed in.

"Mr. Nathaniel! What’s wrong? Is it your migraine again?"

He was barely coherent, slurring, "Isabella… Isabella…"

"Mr. Nathaniel! Hold on—I’m calling the doctor!"

Margaret paled, darting out. Just then, her phone buzzed.

An unknown number.

"Hello?!"

"Margaret. It’s me." A soft voice answered.

"Ms. Isabella?! Is that really you?!" She clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Yes. It’s me."

"Oh, thank God!" Margaret burst into tears. "Please—you have to help him! His migraine’s back, worse than ever! When you were here, they never came this bad. What do I do?!"

"Margaret, listen carefully." Isabella’s voice was steady. "Go to my old room. There’s a silver box in the nightstand drawer—inside are the massage tools I used for his headaches. Under it, you’ll find notes on the pressure points."

"Got it—I’m going now!"

"One more thing. He got hurt tonight—a tree branch hit his back. He’ll pretend it’s nothing, but it’s bad. In the same drawer, there’s ointment. Apply it. If it doesn’t improve in a few days, take him to a doctor."

"Yes, Ms. Isabella." Margaret wiped her eyes, heart aching.

This girl had loved him so deeply. How could he let her go?

"One last request." Isabella paused, then whispered, "Don’t tell him about this call. Please."