The morning sunlight crept into Isabella's apartment, indifferent to her turmoil. She didn't notice it. Her mind was spinning with panic and disbelief.
She paced, then sank onto the couch.
Pregnant? No. That wasn't possible.
It was impossible.
She couldn't even remember his name, yet…
Her mind replayed the night in fragments—touches, kisses, the ache of passion, the coldness afterward. She had told herself it was just one night. A reckless mistake. But now the possibility that she had a child… That was irreversible.
She swallowed hard. She had to stay calm. She had to make a plan.
At work, she avoided everyone. She didn't answer calls, didn't respond to emails. She walked in, sat at her desk, and tried to focus. But every time her mind drifted, she imagined Sebastian. The cold, distant man who had offered her money like she was nothing.
Olivia finally cornered her. "Izzy, you've been avoiding me. Talk to me."
Isabella shook her head. "I… I need space."
Olivia frowned. "Since when do you need space? Spill it."
Isabella's fingers trembled. She wanted to tell someone, anyone, but the fear of Sebastian finding out… of him tracing her, was too real.
"I… I just… I had a terrible night," she said finally. "With someone… powerful."
Olivia's eyes narrowed. "You mean…?"
Isabella nodded slightly, covering her face. "I have to handle this alone."
Meanwhile, Sebastian could not ignore it. His office was silent except for the hum of electronics. Marcus approached cautiously.
"Sir… the woman we tracked—"
Sebastian's hand shot out, cutting him off. "Tell me everything. Every trace. I want to know where she lives, works… what she eats."
Marcus hesitated. "Sir, are you sure? You barely know her."
Sebastian's gaze pierced him. "I don't need to know her. I need to know what's mine."
Isabella spent the next few days in a blur. She changed apartments, avoided her usual haunts, stopped answering messages. Every shadow, every stranger on the street made her jump.
Yet no matter how far she ran, she couldn't outrun the consequences of one night.
On a rainy Thursday, she sat on her small balcony, staring at the wet streets below. Her hands gripped her mug so tightly the ceramic creaked. The wind blew her hair across her face.
A message popped up on her phone from an unknown number:
"You can't run. I will find you."
Her breath caught.
Somewhere across the city, in a penthouse office, Sebastian leaned over the balcony, dark eyes gleaming.
"I told you," he muttered. "You belong to me."
Cliffhanger for Chapter 3:
Isabella didn't know it yet, but her life had already been rewritten. And Sebastian was just beginning to claim what was his.