Chapter 3 ACCIDENT

Charles walked closely behind Isabella into her residence, his breath almost catching in his throat. "Isabella. Come on," he said softly, turning her gently to face him. His eyes searched hers, pleading. "I'm sorry," he said, taking her hand into his, lifting it up, and placing a gentle peck on it while Isabella just rolled her eyes, unfazed by his actions.

"I will never forget the promise I made to you ten years ago," he said, wrapping his hands around her waist. "I promise to marry you no matter what," his words hung in the air as he unwrapped his hands and retrieved a small velvet box from his inner pockets. The soft click of the opening lid revealed a sparkling diamond ring. Charles sank to one knee, looking up at her with a mix of hope and anticipation.

"I wanted to do this later, but I can't delay anymore. Will you please do me the honour of making me the happiest man alive? Will you marry me?" He asked, his voice trembling with happiness.

Isabella's mouth was opened in shock, and her face was covered in surprise. She had never expected everything will move on so fast.

"Yes, yes, Charles," she replied, her hands stretched out and fingers shaking with joy. "I'll marry you."

Charles slid the ring into her finger, and their lips met in a passionate kiss, before embracing each other. His heart soared.

But as she held him, Isabella's mind was miles away, a smile curling at the corners of her lips-dark and calculating. Her plan was unfolding perfectly. "When I'm done with you, Charles, you'll regret ever crossing paths with me," she mused inwardly.

As they broke from the embrace, Charles glanced at the fancy clock on the wall.

"It's getting late," he said, his voice suddenly colder. "I need to get back to the house to make Ashley sign the divorce papers and get her disgusting self out of my life," he said, his voice covered with disgust as though the mere mention of his wife made his skin crawl.

"You can come over to the house tomorrow," he added, his gaze softening as it rested on Isabella. "The house is yours now."

"Okay, dear," Isabella said, her voice resounding with Joy, more about the success of her revenge than the engagement.

Charles gave Isabella a quick peck and dashed out of the house hurriedly. He was determined not to let Ashley spend one more night in his mansion.

As he drove back to his mansion, a storm of thoughts raged in his mind. He was consumed by the desire to end things with Ashley once and for all. Bursting through the front door, Charles was met with an eerie silence. His eyes swept the empty living room before he dashed upstairs.

"Ashley!!!" He called out in a cold and urgent tone as he walked the hall way into the room.

Entering the room, he saw that her luggage was gone. He swung the walk in closet open, and it was empty-completely devoid of any sign to show that Ashley had lived there for three years.

His heart thumping as he hurried downstairs to the living room, picking up the divorce papers from the floor, and his eyes widening in disbelief as he saw her signature legibly beneath her name.

"What! He gasped, clutching the papers tightly. He dashed through the house, checking the kitchen and then to the dining room, hoping she might be hiding, but it was futile. He opened the neatly served dish, the aroma filling the atmosphere, and an unsettling feeling washed down on him.

With desperation, he raced outside. "Where's my wife?" he demanded angrily from the security guards. Wife? He had never called her that. He had always referred to her as woman.

"Sh..she... left, sir," one of the guards stammered as they all trembled under Charles intense gaze.

Weakly, he walked back into the house, collapsing into a dining chair, still clutching the divorce papers.

It was a good thing she finally signed the divorce papers, but why did it feel like something was missing? Why did it hurt?

"Isabella will be here tomorrow. I will finally be a happy man," he muttered, trying to shake off the uneasiness.

His stomach growled, and he started feeling hungry and decided to try the food. He scooped just a few bites of the tasty meal, but he was already filled, despite the fact that it was his favourite dish.

His thoughts spiralled back to Ashley. Where would she go? He knows that she wasn't really cared for by her family. He knew she had no money-he'd made sure that she owned nothing, not even a cent. He had planned to give her alimony, but now? He was stunned at her vanishing act.

Frustrated, he dialled her number, but it went into voicemail. "Such audacity," he muttered under his breath as he tried again with no luck. He dialled Thomas, Ashley father.

"Hello, can I talk to Ashley?" He said in a sharp tone.

"Ashley?" Thomas responded in a surprise tone. "She's not with you?"

"Yes, I figure she would be with you," Charles said, irritation creeping into his voice.

Thomas' tone turned indifferent, clearly not bothered about his daughter's whereabouts. "She came by, but we turned her away. What kind of man_" Charles cut off the call abruptly, his jaw tightening. He doesn't have the time to be lectured by a man who practically sold off his daughter.

As he sat back, his phone rang again-a strange number. He hesitated but answered. "Hello?"

"Is this Charles Davies," the person at the other end asked, her voice trembling and her tears interrupting her words.

"Yes," he replied cautiously, clearly surprised by the stranger who was weeping heavily.

"Your wi.....fe," the woman sobbed, struggling to voice the words out.

Before Charles could respond, another voice took over-this one calm and professional. "Mr. Davies, this is King's College Hospital. Your wife was brought in after getting into a fatal accident. She needs to get surgery immediately, but we require your consent -"

"What!" He yelled, his voice shaking as he fumbled for his car keys. He ended the call abruptly, darting towards the door.

"Open the gate!" He shouted at the guards, his hand trembling as he bolted for his car.

The world around him blurred as he sped towards the hospital, his heart pounding with fear and confusion.