Chapter 52
ISABELLA
I woke up snuggled up against Asher. He's fast asleep but I have to get out of bed without waking him. He came home late last night and needs to rest. I turn to face him and look at his face. He looks so peaceful when he's asleep, a far cry from the cold, authoritarian look he wears most of the time. It's a good thing he's asleep, or I'd get another remark about admiring him again.
Time and again, I manage to extricate myself from his arms and get out of the room. Knox and Jax are already in the kitchen, fully dressed, when I join them. The youngest has gone home while his and I are watching a movie on the sofa. Finally, when he arrived, I was no longer watching the movie but was asleep on the couch. I only realized he'd come home because he was the one who carried me into his older brother's bed.
I kissed each of them in turn before pouring myself a cup of coffee.
"Ash still asleep?" Knox asks me.
"Yes, he must be tired from the trip." I reply, sitting down between them.
"That must be it yeah." He says, shaking his head with a smirk.
"I rather think he sleeps peacefully when you sleep with him."
By the time the three of us finish lunch, Asher joins us in the kitchen, wearing his usual black suit.
"You should have woken me up." He whispers to me before kissing me on the temple.
"You looked so peaceful I didn't feel like spoiling it."
"Oh but you should have. I missed you." He tells me as he pours himself some coffee.
"Okay guys. I've got a meeting, gotta go. I'll see you all back here for dinner." Jax announces before kissing me and leaving the penthouse. Knox follows soon after, leaving Asher and me alone.
"What do you have planned for today?" He asks me as he eats his omelet.
"Writing, that is, if I find the inspiration." I bury my face in my hands. "The kids' reviews weren't encouraging so... I kind of have to start from scratch."
"I'm not worried about you. I know you're great and soon they'll all see it. Maybe you should get out today, go to the park, take a walk, just to get some inspiration."
"That's a pretty good idea." I tell him, surprised I hadn't thought of it myself.
"I don't know how I'm supposed to take the look on your face. " He tells me with a smirk.
"I should have thought of it myself."
We clear the table together and he leaves for the office right after. Where would I find inspiration? I think I should just get dressed and go for a walk. I should come across something.
With a heart full of dreams and a notebook in hand, I meander through the city's vibrant neighborhoods, letting the sights and sounds fuel my imagination. In Central Park, I watch children laughing and playing, their innocence and joy sparking ideas for whimsical characters. The city's towering skyscrapers and hidden alleyways seem like gateways to magical worlds, each corner offering a new story waiting to be told. I visit the New York Public Library, where the rows of books and the whispers of history fill me with a sense of purpose. As I strolls through the art galleries in Chelsea, the colors and shapes on the canvases begin to weave into my thoughts, transforming into vivid illustrations for my book. Even the subway rides, with their diverse mix of people and snippets of conversation, provide snippets of dialogue and plot twists. By the end of my tour, I feel the city's energy coursing through my veins, and I knows I have found the essence of my story—a tale that will capture the wonder and curiosity of children everywhere.
ASHER
I never thought I was the kind of person capable of doing something like this. I’ve always prided myself on being calm, rational, someone who thinks things through before acting. But this morning, everything changed. As I walked to work, taking the same route I do every day, I saw him—Dominic. He was just there, casually walking down the street as if he hadn’t shattered Isabella’s life. As if he wasn’t the man who had haunted her every thought, controlled her every move, and poisoned her mind with his manipulative words.
Isabella had told me everything about Dominic. She had never known physical violence from him, but the scars he left on her were no less real. He had twisted her reality, making her doubt herself, making her feel worthless, trapping her in a prison built of his lies and cruelty. Even now, despite all the love and support we try to give her, I can still see the shadows of his words lingering in her eyes. I hate him for that. I hate that he still has any power over her, that he still occupies space in her mind. And now, here he was, right in front of me, like some sick joke.
As I watched him, a plan began to form in my mind, almost without me realizing it. I knew of a place—a remote cabin my family owned, far away from the city. It was isolated, a place where no one would think to look. I could take him there, lock him up, and make sure he couldn’t hurt Isabella—or anyone else—ever again. The idea took hold of me, and before I knew it, I was acting on it.
I approached Dominic, forcing myself to smile, to act casual. He didn’t recognize me. I struck up a conversation, pretending I needed his help with something. He was smug, arrogant, the same way Isabella had described him. It made my blood boil, but I kept my cool. I convinced him to come with me, and he, oblivious to the danger, agreed.
As we drove out of the city, my heart pounded, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. I kept waiting for him to figure it out, to realize something was wrong, but he didn’t. By the time we reached the cabin, it was too late for him. I led him inside, still playing the part of the friendly stranger, and then I made my move. I locked him in the basement, a cold, dark place where he couldn’t escape, where he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore.
As I walked away from the cabin, leaving Dominic behind, I felt a strange mix of emotions. There was relief, satisfaction, even a sense of justice. But there was also guilt, a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew what I had done was extreme, illegal, dangerous. But when I thought of Isabella, of the way Dominic had twisted her mind and taken away her sense of self, I couldn’t help but feel that it was justified. I had crossed a line, but in doing so, I believed I had finally freed Isabella from the last remnants of his hold over her.