Chapter 91 The Search for Bella
DAVID
The office felt like a cage. My chest ached with regret, and the silence in the room roared louder than my thoughts. It had been two months since Bella left, and every day since had been a torment.
The leather chair groaned as I leaned back, clutching a photo of her. Bella was laughing in the picture, her eyes sparkling with a joy I hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. John had sent it to me as an update, a cruel reminder of what I’d lost.
I ran a hand through my hair, the weight of my mistakes pressing down on me. The lies. The betrayal. The distance. It was all my fault.
“Sir?” My assistant’s voice pulled me out of my misery. He stood at the door, his face pale. “There’s an urgent situation at the Highland filming site.”
I sat up straight, alarmed. “What happened?”
“There’s been an accident. Some of the workers were injured. Bella…”
My breath hitched. “Bella?”
“She’s one of the directors on site,” he continued cautiously. “But… she’s missing. Ice collapsed during filming.”
The words hit me like a blow to the chest. Missing. The air left my lungs, and my grip tightened on the desk.
“Where’s the location?” I barked, standing so quickly my chair nearly toppled over.
“It’s slippery and dangerous…”
“I didn’t ask for a weather report!” My voice was sharper than I intended. “Where is she?”
“The Highland,” he stammered, handing over the coordinates.
I didn’t wait for further explanation. Snatching my car keys, I bolted out of the office.
The drive to the Highland was a blur. Snow pelted the windshield, the wipers barely keeping up. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the steering wheel.
Memories of Bella flooded my mind. Her laugh. The way she’d tilt her head when she was curious. The fire in her eyes when she was angry. I had driven her away, and now she was out there, somewhere, in this freezing hell.
As I pulled up to the site, chaos greeted me. Ambulances lined the area, their sirens wailing. Rescue teams moved swiftly, carrying injured workers on stretchers.
I jumped out of the car, slipping slightly on the icy ground. “Where’s Bella?” I shouted at the nearest officer.
“Sir, you need to stay back. It’s dangerous,” he said, raising a hand to stop me.
“My wife is out there!” My voice cracked. “I need to find her!”
“We’re doing everything we can,” the officer assured me. “The rescue team is searching.”
“She doesn’t have time,” I snapped, pushing past him.
“Sir, wait!”
I ignored him, the cold biting through my coat as I trudged into the snow-covered site. The scene was devastating. Equipment lay scattered, half-buried under mounds of ice. Trees groaned under the weight of snow, their branches snapping in the wind.
“Bella!” I shouted, my voice hoarse.
The wind howled in response, carrying my desperation into the night. I stumbled forward, slipping on the icy ground but refusing to stop.
Then, faintly, I heard it.
“Save me…”
My heart leaped. “Bella!”
The voice was weak, almost swallowed by the storm, but it was hers. I followed the sound, my flashlight cutting through the darkness. The snow grew deeper, each step a battle.
“Hold on!” I called, my breath visible in the frigid air.
The beam of my flashlight caught a figure slumped against a tree. My heart stopped.
“Bella!”
She was barely conscious, her face pale and lips blue. Snow covered her hair, and her arms hugged her knees in a feeble attempt to stay warm.
I dropped to my knees beside her, shaking her gently. “Bella, it’s me. I’m here.”
Her eyes fluttered open, filled with pain and relief. “David…”
“It’s okay,” I whispered, wrapping my coat around her shivering frame. “I’ve got you.”
She tried to speak, but her voice was barely a whisper. “I thought… I wouldn’t…”
“Don’t,” I interrupted, my throat tightening. “You’re safe now.”
Lifting her into my arms, I felt the weight of everything I’d done. Bella was fragile but alive. I wouldn’t let her go again.
As I carried her toward the rescue team, her eyes fluttered open once more. She clutched my sleeve weakly, her voice barely audible against the howling wind. “David… it wasn’t an accident…”