Chapter 105

ASHER

The air in the interrogation room was tense, heavy with the weight of unanswered questions. Isabella sat beside me, her hands folded neatly in her lap, but I could see the tension in her fingers. She was holding herself together, even after two days of digesting the news that Dominic Jenkins—her ex-husband—was dead. It was no small feat, and I admired her strength, but I also felt the strain she was under.

The officers in charge of the investigation sat across from us, their faces impassive but alert, like predators waiting to pounce. They had questions, and it was clear they weren’t going to let us go easily.

"Ms. Moretti," the officer began, his eyes scanning her closely. "We understand you and Dominic Jenkins were once married. Can you tell us when you last saw him?"

Isabella nodded, her voice steady, though I could hear the undercurrent of emotion she was working hard to suppress. "I ran into him on the street a few weeks ago. It was an unexpected meeting, and we argued. That was the last time I saw him."

The officer raised an eyebrow. "An argument? Can you tell us what it was about?"

She took a breath, her gaze flicking to me for just a second before she focused back on the officers. "Dominic and I... we didn’t part on good terms. He cheated on me...more than once. Our marriage was difficult. When we met on the street, he was angry—frustrated. He tried to convince me to give him another chance, to talk things through, but I refused. We exchanged words, and I walked away."

One of the officers leaned forward slightly. "Just words? No physical altercation?"

Isabella shook her head, her voice firm. "No. Just an argument."

I kept my expression calm, though I could feel the tension radiating off her. The last thing she needed was for these officers to push her into a corner. She was handling it well, but I knew how easily they could try to twist her words.

"And how long were you married to Mr. Jenkins?" the other officer asked, his tone casual, but I could see the sharpness in his eyes.

"Several years," she replied, keeping her answer vague. She didn’t need to go into the details of her life with Dominic—the years of emotional abuse, the control he tried to exert over her, even after their divorce. The past was the past, and it wasn’t something that needed to be picked apart in this room.

The officer gave a slow nod, as if considering her words carefully. "We understand. Now, Ms. Moretti, we’ve spoken to a few people who suggested that Dominic was trying to turn his life around before he disappeared. Have you heard anything to that effect?"

Isabella let out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Dominic always claimed he was changing, but it was never true. He only wanted control. That’s all he ever cared about—manipulating people to get what he wanted."

I could see the officers taking mental notes, their expressions neutral. "Did Mr. Jenkins ever contact you after that encounter?" one of them asked, still probing, searching for any inconsistencies in her story.

"No," she said, her voice unwavering. "That was the last time I heard from him."

The second officer’s attention shifted to me, his gaze narrowing. "Mr. Black, how long have you been in a relationship with Ms. Moretti?"

I didn’t flinch. "We’ve been together for some time, but our relationship began after her divorce from Dominic. I had no involvement with him, and I’ve never met the man."

The officer didn’t seem satisfied with that. "You’ve never crossed paths with him? No phone calls, no confrontations?"

"None," I replied smoothly. "Isabella’s past with Dominic was over by the time we got together."

Before the officers could press further, I felt Isabella tense beside me, her hand moving to her stomach. I looked over at her, noticing the slight grimace on her face.

"Isa?" I murmured, leaning closer. "What’s wrong?"

She winced, her hand pressing lightly against her abdomen. "I think... I don’t know. It feels like..."

"That’s enough," I said, standing abruptly. "This interrogation is over."

One of the officers stood as well, his eyes flicking between us. "Is everything alright? Should we—"

"We’re done here," I said firmly, my voice leaving no room for argument. I helped Isabella to her feet, keeping her close to me as we headed for the door. The officers didn’t try to stop us, though their eyes followed us out, no doubt with more questions on their minds.

The drive to the hospital was silent, except for Isabella’s occasional sharp breaths. I kept one hand on the wheel, the other on her knee, trying to reassure her with my touch. By the time we arrived, I could see the worry etched into her face.

As soon as we stepped into the hospital, a nurse ushered us into an examination room. The doctor arrived shortly after, a kind smile on her face as she began her assessment.

"These aren’t real contractions," she said after a few minutes, her voice calm and reassuring. "What you’re experiencing are Braxton Hicks contractions. They’re harmless and perfectly normal, but they can be uncomfortable. It’s your body’s way of preparing for the real thing."

Isabella let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging with relief. "So, the baby’s okay?"

"The baby’s fine," the doctor assured her. "But you need to rest, Isabella. Stress can trigger these contractions, so it’s important to avoid it as much as possible. Light physical activity is fine, but no overexertion."

I nodded, already making plans to ensure she didn’t lift a finger for the next few weeks. "We’ll make sure she rests," I said, giving Isabella’s hand a gentle squeeze.

The doctor smiled at us, then left the room, leaving Isabella and me alone for a moment.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I didn’t mean to cause all this—"

"Shh," I interrupted, pulling her into my arms. "You have nothing to apologize for. You and the baby are what matters. We’ll deal with everything else later."

As I held her close, feeling the warmth of her body against mine, I knew one thing for certain: no matter what happened with the investigation or Dominic’s death, I would protect her and our family. We had come too far to let the past tear us apart.