Isabella arrived home later that night. The taxi stopped beside her house. She got out, paid the driver, and headed into her apartment.
The sky was dark, and the wind howled as if warning of an approaching storm. She shivered as the cold breeze stung her skin. Wasting no time, she locked all the windows and prepared a hot cup of coffee.
After settling in the living room, she took small sips of her drink, trying to shake off the discomfort lingering in her body. She convinced herself it was just exhaustion, nothing more. The storm outside raged, rattling the windows, but she ignored it, focusing instead on the warmth of her coffee.
Once she finished her drink, she went straight to her room, unpacking her clothes and placing them in the empty wardrobe. She spent a little time decorating her space, hoping to distract herself. Just as she was about to settle down, nausea struck her again—this time, worse than before.
Her stomach churned violently, forcing her to rush to the bathroom. The moment she reached the sink, she vomited.
When she was done, she rinsed her face, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Confusion filled her eyes. Why did I throw up? she wondered. Examining herself closely, she noticed a slight difference in her complexion.
Maybe I'm just overworked, she reasoned.
Checking the time on her phone, she realized it wasn't too late. The storm hadn't even reached its full force yet. Deciding not to waste the opportunity, she grabbed her coat and headed for the nearest hospital.
There, a doctor assisted her through a series of checkups. After some time, he led her into his office, wearing a smile that made her nervous.
"Sir, what's wrong with me?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.
The doctor chuckled softly. "Nothing is wrong, Mrs. Kingston. In fact, it's good news."
Her brows furrowed. "Good news? What do you mean?"
His smile widened. "Congratulations. You're going to be a mother."
A cold chill ran through her. "I don't understand… I'm pregnant?" she asked, needing confirmation.
"Yes, Mrs. Kingston. Based on the tests, you're already at least one month pregnant"
Her hands clenched into fists. No… how is this possible? Why did it have to be now?
A wave of emotions crashed over her. Her mind immediately went to Jacob—the only man who could be responsible for this child. She recalled that night, the way she couldn't stop him, the way they had given in to the moment.
He told me he pulled out… He lied to me.
Anger surged within her. He wasn't even in his right state of mind…
The doctor continued speaking, offering advice about her pregnancy, but her mind had already drifted elsewhere. She thought about Jacob—how he had abandoned her, how he had let his wicked mother and that woman, Vendetta, manipulate him.
And now… I'm pregnant with his child?
She swallowed hard. How am I supposed to take care of this baby alone?
Would the credit card be enough to sustain them for years? The thought terrified her. She partially blamed herself for allowing Jacob to touch her that night, for not resisting harder.
Later that night, she returned home, the hospital report still clutched in her trembling hands. The weight of reality pressed down on her as she collapsed onto her sofa.
Her heart pounded. Panic set in. What am I supposed to do?
Tears welled up in her eyes as dark thoughts entered her mind. "Maybe I should just disappear… or kill myself?" she muttered. "I can't bring a child into such a cruel world."
Frustrated, she threw the hospital report onto the floor. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
Just as she sobbed bitterly, her phone rang.
An unknown number.
Her heart skipped a beat. She hesitated before answering. "Hello?"
A deep, calm voice responded. "Is this Isabella Kingston?"
She sniffled and wiped her tears. "Yes… Who am I speaking to?"
"You sound upset. Did I call at a bad time?"
Isabella quickly composed herself. "No, it's fine… Who is this?"
"My name is Nathan Smith, Mrs. Kingston."
Her brows furrowed. "Nathan Smith?"
"I know you don't know me, but I know you. I've heard one of your songs—A Winter's Heart—and I must say, it's fantastic."
Her breath hitched. "Wait… How did you get my number? I never made my contact information public."
A soft chuckle echoed through the phone. "It wasn't that hard to find. Let's just say I'm your number-one fan."
Isabella tensed. A reason to panic crept into her mind.
"Relax, Mrs. Kingston," Nathan continued. "I didn't call just to praise your music. I'm here to make you an offer—one you won't be able to resist."
Her curiosity piqued. "An offer?"
"Yes. I want to help you build your career as a musician. Your voice is a gift, and I believe the world needs to hear it."
Isabella was taken aback. This sounds too good to be true…
"The first step is leaving Holland," Nathan explained. "This city offers little to aspiring musicians like you. But I know a place that does."
Her skin prickled. Leaving Holland?
"Mrs. Kingston, I assure you, you have nothing to worry about. I will take care of everything. You just have to trust me."
Isabella swallowed hard. "Okay…" she murmured, still torn between fear and hope.
"Good. Meet me at Holland Airport now. My flight leaves in an hour. I won't be coming back anytime soon, so if you want this opportunity, let's go now."
Her eyes widened as she stared at her wardrobe. "I need to pack—"
"Don't worry. Just bring the essentials. I'll take care of the rest once we reach our destination."
A lump formed in her throat.
"I'm at the airport waiting for you. Please, come."
Then he hung up.
Isabella sat frozen. All of this… in one day?
Her gaze shifted to the mirror. Her fingers traced her belly. Should I leave? Or fight through the pain?
Then she remembered Jacob. Remembered how he mistreated her. Remembered how he kissed Vendetta in front of her.
Her jaw tightened. "No… I'm leaving."
A newfound hatred burned inside her, sharpening her resolve. "I will come back… but when I do, I'll settle the score with all of them."
With renewed determination, she packed her belongings and left.
She arrived at the airport, five minutes late. Anxiety gnawed at her as she scanned the crowd. "I'm here… but how do I find him?"
A deep, soothing voice answered from behind. "I've already found you, Mrs. Kingston."
She turned sharply and found herself face-to-face with a tall, charismatic man surrounded by bodyguards.
Nathan Smith.
She froze but kept her composure.
Nathan, exuding confidence, stepped closer, his intense gaze locking onto hers. He appeared to be around Jacob's age, but there was a key difference—he seemed far more generous, far more powerful.
Sensing her fear, he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I know you're scared, but trust me. I promise you nothing but your dreams."
And with that, he led her to a private jet.
Her heart pounded in disbelief. She had assumed they'd be taking a commercial flight, but Nathan was rich enough to own a private jet.
With no one to say goodbye to, Isabella boarded.
As the engines roared to life, she looked out the window, watching Holland disappear beneath her.
She was leaving her past behind.
And soon, she was gone.