0023

0023
  There’s a saying: What you don’t know can’t hurt you. But that’s a lie. Ignorance isn’t bliss… it’s a slow death, creeping in the shadows until it swallows you whole.
    As the words left his mouth, he froze. His entire body went rigid, his breath halting as if he’d just swallowed something sharp.
    “What did you just say?” My voice was a whisper, but it cut through the air like a blade.
    Alex’s hands clenched into fists before one flew to his mouth as he mouthed the word “fuck” as if trying to shove the words back in. Regret flickered across his face, but it was too late.
    “Tell me, Alex. What did you say?”
    He turned to me, exhaling harshly. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry about all of this. The whole damn situation.”
    I grabbed his arm before he could pull away, and he flinched at the contact. “She was screwing Drew, wasn’t she?”
    His silence was deafening.
    “Beatrice was fucking Drew.” I tightened my grip on his chin, forcing him to look at me. His usual steel-like composure cracked, and for the first time, I saw something raw beneath it…. something broken.
    “That explains it.”
    “Explains what?” His voice was hoarse, his brows furrowing.
    I swallowed hard, my gaze flickering past him to the green vines tangled over a metal trellis.
    “He tried touching me. He tried to assault me. He said we had… unfinished business.”
    Alex stiffened, his jaw locking. “He said that?” His voice dropped, dark and dangerous.
    “Yes.”
    “Jesus.” He muttered, running a hand through his hair before abruptly turning on his heel.
    He stormed off, stepping into the open area of the garden, leaving me behind…. heart pounding, breath shallow. The weight of it all pressed down on me.
    This was too much. Too much to process.
    I didn’t go back to my mother’s hospital room. I couldn’t not today. Instead, I walked out of the hospital without looking back.
    Alexander left too.
    The car ride home was suffocating, thick with unspoken words and tension so heavy it pressed against my chest. Orbot, ever the silent observer, didn’t even attempt to coax me into conversation. He simply drove, the hum of the engine the only sound between us.
    That night, Alexander didn’t return to the estate.
    I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t gone looking for him. Not intentionally… just wandering through the house, unable to sleep, searching for something I couldn’t name. But his presence, or lack thereof, gnawed at me I needed answers.
    I finally asked Orbot.
    “Where is he?” My voice was quiet, almost hesitant.
    “He’s not home, ma’am.”
    That was all he said. No explanations. No reassurances.
    And I didn’t ask for more.
    Because what was there to say? The man I was forced to marry had been married before to my sister. And he had killed her because she was cheating on him.
    I mean, what other reason could there be? And he had brought me here to be her replacement.
    This man Alexander, I didn’t know who he was anymore. I thought I did. I actually believed I did.
    I used to think he was just cruel. Cold-hearted. Maybe even evil. But now? Now, I wasn’t sure if “evil” was a strong enough word.
    Should I tell Mother?
    The thought lingered like a whisper in my mind, tempting me. Should I walk into that hospital room and tell her that one of her daughters had been married to the same man I was now shackled to? That he, her son-in-law, had buried her child?
    And if Beatrice was dead, like I was beginning to suspect… where was the third sibling?
    I needed answers. And I knew Alexander would never give them to me willingly.
    And as for the Dubai trip? I assumed that was off the table now.
    I was in my room, sitting at my vanity, as Dirty Diana by Michael Jackson poured through the grand stereo. The bass thrummed through my bones while I absentmindedly painted my nails a soft pink.
    Then the door to my room flung open.
    No knock. No hesitation.
    For the first time in three days Alex he was standing in front of me after walking away from me in that hospital.
    Dressed in black slacks and a fitted vest, his hair was brushed back, still damp from a shower. So, he had been home. Not that I expected an apology. He always did this.
    I arched a brow, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, what a sight you are.”
    He ignored me.
    Without a word, he stormed into my dressing room, yanking open drawers as if searching for something.
    “Hey!” I snapped. “You can’t just burst into my room like that—”
    “Where is it?” he demanded.
    I blinked. “Where is what?”
    His sharp gaze flickered to my hand, to the bare skin where my wedding ring used to be.
    Oh.
    That’s what he cared about. Not the bombshell I had just uncovered. Not the fact that we were trapped in a mess bigger than either of us could comprehend. No…. he cared about a piece of jewelry.
    I let out a bitter laugh. “That’s what matters to you? Your gold?”
    “Where is it?” His jaw clenched. “Put it on. We have guests.”
    And just like that, he turned to leave. Like nothing had happened. Like I wasn’t standing there, drowning in unanswered questions.
    Maybe this was partly my fault.
    I shouldn’t have left Mother in the hospital like that. I knew she had been through a lot..especially with how she claimed my father had treated her.
    But did she really expect me to just accept everything and cozy up to her after the secret she had kept from me?
    I had a father. A real father. And according to her, he hated me.
    She told me he was a worthless man. A good-for-nothing. But was he really? Or did he just hate her? Because that wasn’t the same thing. Maybe…. just maybe…he could have been a good father to me.
    And now, somewhere out there, I had a sister.
    A sister I never knew existed.
    It was too much.
    I had no interest in seeing whoever the guests were that Alexander had invited over. But I also didn’t want to stir up more drama.. at least, not yet. If I played this right, if I kept my head down long enough, I could get more information about what the hell this nonsense was really about.
    Alexander had gone to see my mother. I knew he had. But when I asked, he had the audacity to act like he didn’t know what I was talking about.
    This house… this entire situation… none of it made sense.
    What the hell had I signed up for?
    I pulled on a beige top and matching pants, brushing my hair back. A sigh escaped me. How much I miss Lucy.
    Descending the grand staircase, I found the hallway empty, eerily quiet.
    But then I heard voices.
    Upstairs.
    I turned back, following the sound to the private living room the one Alexander used for personal guests.
    Taking a steadying breath, I knocked on the door.
    Muffled voices hushed on the other side.
    Then the door opened, and Alexander stood before me.
    Without a word, he slid an arm around my waist, the way he always did when we were playing our ridiculous act. His grip was firm, possessive and performative.
    I stepped inside.
    Two strangers sat near the large window, their presence filling the room with an unspoken weight.
    The man was old probably in his late sixties, maybe seventies… but he carried himself well. Sharp brown eyes. A full head of thick, well-groomed hair with streaks of white, the kind that made him look refined, not frail. Like fine wine, aging with elegance.
    Dressed in a black perfectly tailored suit.
    Beside him sat a woman, older than me but younger than him probably around my mother’s age. Her sharp features told a different story than my mother’s. Life had shaped her in a way that didn’t leave room for softness. Her nails were long, polished to perfection, tapping against the armrest of her chair as she observed me with unsettling intensity.
    Her brown suit was crisp. Her slacks tailored to perfection. They both looked… corporate. Powerful.
    As I stepped further inside, they rose to their feet.
    And then—
    The older man’s gaze locked onto mine. His expression shifted instantly, like he had seen a ghost.
    “Isla.”
    My body went rigid.
    He took a hesitant step forward. “You are Isla, right?”
    Alexander, the ever-silent puppet master, made his way back to his chair. He leaned against his desk, long fingers tapping a pen against scattered documents, completely unbothered by the tension crackling in the air.
    He motioned for me to sit.
    I didn’t.
    I couldn’t.
    I looked at the man again, my pulse hammering in my ears. This can’t be what I’m thinking. This can’t be—
    Before I could move, he reached for me, gripping my arm.
    The woman beside him stared at me, her breath catching as if she were witnessing something impossible.
    And then, before I could react—
    He hugged me.
    Tight. Desperate.
    “Isla.” His voice broke.
    Panic flared in my chest. My hands hovered over his back before I awkwardly patted him, my body too stiff to reciprocate.
    Over his shoulder, I looked at Alexander.
    He was watching.
    Expression unreadable.
    Nonchalant. Like this entire thing was just another business meeting.
    The pen in his hand spun idly. The documents in front of him lay in disarray.
    What the hell was going on?
    I pressed against the older man’s chest, trying to put distance between us.
    Sensing my discomfort, he finally let go, though his hands came to cradle my face. His eyes searched mine, desperate.
    And then—
    Then I saw it.
    Or maybe I just thought I did.
    A resemblance. A familiarity. Something so deeply unsettling, it stole the breath from my lungs.
    And then he spoke.
    “Isla… I’m your father.”
    My entire world tilted.