Chapter 25: A Truth Laden with Pain

Isabella, feeling the weight of the conversation, took a step back. She wasn't ready to face more questions, nor was she ready to confront the possibility of what that meant.

—I don't want to talk about this anymore, she finally said, trying to control her voice. I need time to process it.

Alexander, although he wanted more answers, understood that pressing her at that moment would only make things worse.

—It's okay, he responded softly. Take the time you need, but please, Isabella, don't shut me out. If there's anything I can do to help, I want you to tell me.

Isabella nodded, though she knew she couldn't tell him everything. Not yet. Because there was a part of her that was beginning to suspect the truth about Ethan, but she wasn't ready to admit it, not even to herself, let alone to Alexander.

Without saying more, she turned and went back inside the mansion, leaving Alexander in the garden, deep in his own thoughts. As he watched her walk away, the weight of the unrevealed secrets and the mysteries of the past seemed to grow heavier.

Alexander ran a hand over his face, frustrated. There was something in all of this that didn't add up, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was getting closer to uncovering it. But no matter how hard he tried, Isabella remained an enigma. And that enigma was driving him mad.

Isabella felt her heart race after Alexander's question. Though she had wanted to answer him, she couldn't. Everything in her life was a tangled mess, and those lost memories tormented her more than she could admit. But there was something else, something she needed to know. She gathered her courage and looked at him intently, deciding to ask the question that had been on her mind for days.

—Alexander... Can I ask you something about Ethan? —Her voice trembled slightly, but she tried to keep her composure.

He looked at her, a mixture of exhaustion and curiosity on his face.

—What do you want to know?

—What... what happened to his mother? You never mention her, and... —Isabella swallowed hard, trying not to sound intrusive— I was wondering why she's not with you.

Alexander froze for a second, as if the question had struck him in a way he hadn't expected. He lowered his gaze, his features hardening. It seemed he was debating with himself, as though it were a subject he would have preferred to avoid. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

—There is no mother, Isabella, he said, his voice now flat. At least not in the way you think.

Isabella frowned, not understanding what he meant. She stepped closer, seeking more answers.

—What do you mean by that?

Alexander looked up, his face revealing a pain he had hidden for a long time.

—I'm not Ethan's father... biologically speaking.

Those words hit Isabella like a bomb in her mind. Although she had heard Miranda and Alexander talk about it before, her mouth hung open slightly in surprise, and the air seemed to grow heavier around her. She hadn't thought Alexander would be capable of saying it.

—What...? —It was all she could say.

Alexander looked at the ground, his voice low and full of remorse as he continued:

—A few years ago, on a stormy night, someone left Ethan at my doorstep. He was only a few days old, wrapped in a blanket, completely alone. —He paused, as if reliving that night was painful— There was no note, no clue as to who left him there. But as soon as I saw him, I knew I couldn't leave him. I took him in and raised him as if he were my own. I never found his real family, or any answers about why they abandoned him.

Isabella brought a hand to her chest, feeling a lump in her throat. The revelation left her stunned, but it also awakened something inside her. The image of a baby alone, abandoned, hit her like a distant, almost unreal memory. But what troubled her most was the inexplicable connection she felt toward Ethan, a bond she couldn't explain.

—So, you've never known who his parents are? —she asked, incredulously.

Alexander shook his head slowly, not looking up from the ground.

—No. I've never known anything. And honestly, I've come to accept it. Ethan is my son, even though he's not biologically mine. I've tried to give him all the love and protection he deserves... but I feel like I've failed him in many ways. —He paused, looking at her with intensity— Until you came.

Isabella looked at him, confused.

—Me?

—Since you've been here, Ethan has changed. He's calmer, happier. And I can't help but think that there's something more in you... something that reminds me of the woman who left him at my doorstep.

Isabella took a step back, her mind spinning with confusion. That inexplicable connection with Ethan, the fragmented memories of a baby... Could it be possible? Was Ethan really her son?

The air felt suffocating, and Isabella's head was spinning with all the revelations. But before she could say anything more, she suddenly felt a sharp dizziness. Her vision blurred, and she lost her balance.

—Isabella! —exclaimed Alexander, rushing toward her and catching her just before she hit the ground.

Darkness enveloped her, but not before one last image flashed through her mind: a small crib, a crying baby, and her own reflection in a mirror, pale and terrified.

The sun of the dawn had just begun to filter through the curtains when Isabella woke up with a start. Her breath was rapid, and her heart pounded fiercely in her chest. She sat up slowly, pressing a hand to her forehead as cold sweat ran down her temple. She knew it hadn't been just a dream; what she had seen in her mind was a memory, something painful that had been buried in her unconscious for years.

The images in her mind were blurry, fragmented, but they felt vivid, real, as if she had lived through a moment she had wanted to forget forever.

She was in a hospital room, pale and weak. She remembered the overwhelming exhaustion she had felt after giving birth. Her body was drained, but her maternal instinct was stronger than any pain. She struggled to stay awake, desperately searching for her baby with her eyes. The small cry she had heard just moments earlier had filled her heart with a joy so pure that it had almost made her forget the suffering of the previous hours.

But something was wrong. The atmosphere changed when a woman appeared at the foot of the bed. She wasn’t a nurse, nor a doctor. Isabella didn’t remember her face clearly, but she did remember her cold, calculating gaze.

The woman approached slowly, and without saying a word, took the newborn baby from the arms of the nurse who had been holding it. Isabella tried to move, to stop her, but her body wouldn’t respond.

—What are you doing? —she whispered, her voice broken by weakness.

The woman didn’t answer. Instead, she looked at Isabella with disdain, as if she had no right to be there, to have that baby in her arms.

—This child should never have been born —the woman said in a voice as hard as ice—. This... ruins everything.

Isabella felt a wave of terror wash over her body. She didn’t understand what was happening, but one thing was clear: the woman planned to harm her baby.

—No, please! —she shouted with all the strength she could gather—. Let me see him, let me hold him!

The woman ignored her pleas and, without even looking at her, handed the baby to a nurse waiting at the door. Isabella saw the empty expression on the nurse’s face as she took the baby in her arms, as if the child were nothing more than an object that needed to be disposed of.

—Take him —the woman ordered—. Make sure he doesn’t survive.

Isabella’s eyes widened as panic overtook her.

—No! —she screamed, her voice breaking—. Don’t touch him! He’s my son!

Her body was trapped in the bed, immobile from pain and weakness, unable to get up or stop what was happening. Tears fell down her face as she tried to stretch her hands towards the baby, who was already being carried out of the room.

The last sound she heard was her son’s cry, a cry so small and fragile that it shattered her soul into a thousand pieces. Then, the door closed, and darkness enveloped the scene.

Suddenly, Isabella felt herself return to the present. Her breathing was rapid, and her body shook uncontrollably. She clung to the bedspread, trying to calm herself, but that memory had been so vivid, so terrifying, that she couldn’t shake it from her mind.

She looked toward Ethan’s room door, and a deep fear took hold of her. Was it possible that this child, the one they had taken from her, was her son? Everything seemed so confusing. She knew these memories were connected to the life she had lost, but nothing made sense. Still, the instinct she felt towards Ethan, the need to protect him, grew stronger with each passing day.

—Isabella... —a deep voice pulled her from her thoughts.

She turned slowly, still disoriented from what she had just experienced in her mind, and found herself face-to-face with Alexander, standing in the doorway, watching her with a mix of concern and curiosity. He approached cautiously, his eyes fixed on Isabella’s pale face.

—I saw you trembling and... —his voice trailed off as he sat on the edge of the bed, not quite sure what to say. Isabella looked at him, trying to find an answer to what she had just lived, but she was still stun

ned.

—I had a dream... a memory... I don’t know —she confessed in a whisper—. It was... it was so real.