Chapter 2 POOR ISABELLE

I close the door to our-no, his-bedroom, the sound echoing through the empty halls like the final note of a funeral march. The weight of the evening presses down on me, suffocating and inescapable.

My fingers tremble as I reach for the suitcase at the foot of the bed, the one I hadn't touched since our honeymoon. How ironic that it would be the last witness to this chapter of my life.

The room still carries traces of us: the silk sheets tangled from restless nights, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air like an uninvited memory. Every detail feels like a cruel joke, mocking me with what I've lost.

I stand in the center, numb, trying to process what just happened downstairs. Kaia's mocking smile, her possessive arm around Damion's waist, the way he didn't even flinch when she kissed him in front of everyone. It wasn't just betrayal-it was annihilation, a public declaration that I was nothing.

I sit on the edge of the bed, my hands fisting the fabric of my dress, now wrinkled and cold. The humiliation cuts deeper than any wound.

The whispers of the guests replay in my mind, like ghostly echoes that won't let me breathe.

"Did she know her husband was cheating?"

"Poor Isabelle. She went through all this trouble for him, and look how he repays her."

I press my hands to my ears, but the memories won't stop. I spent weeks planning tonight, hoping it would bring us closer, remind Damion of the life we once dreamed of. Instead, it became a nightmare that refuses to end.

I glance at the suitcase and force myself to move. Each item I pack feels like a piece of my heart being stripped away.

The sweater he gave me on our first anniversary. The framed photo of us on the beach, his arm around me as we laughed at something only we would find funny. I pause, staring at the photo. His eyes are softer there, full of a warmth I can barely remember. Where did that version of him go? Of us? The one that believed love was enough to conquer any storm?

The silence in the room is deafening, broken only by the sound of my shaky breaths. The walls seem to close in, pressing down with the weight of betrayal.

I grab my phone and type a message, my fingers trembling.

Where are you?

I stare at the screen, willing it to light up with a reply. Nothing. I drop it aggressively, the sound echoing in the empty room. He's not coming after me. I know where he is. He's with Kaia, the woman who used to be my confidante, who knew every hope and fear I shared. How long had she been smiling to my face while slipping a knife into my back?

The way she looked at me tonight, triumphant and smug, told me all I needed to know. This wasn't new. Damion's coldness, the late nights at the office, the way he turned away whenever I tried to talk about our struggles-every moment slots into place like pieces of a puzzle I refused to see.

I blink back tears, refusing to let them fall, but one escapes. If I start crying now, I won't stop. I need to leave before I break down completely.

I fold the last of my clothes, the ache in my chest growing heavier with every movement. My fingers brush against the necklace he bought me for our third anniversary. It was supposed to symbolize eternity. How foolish I was to believe in such things. I throw it into the suitcase and zip it up with a finality that makes my hands shake.

Memories flood back-the cold dinners eaten in silence, the way he brushed off my attempts at affection, his clipped responses whenever I suggested we visit the doctor again.

"I love you, there's no need to see the doctor."

I remember the first time I told him about Cedric's comments, how his father's voice grated on me with its constant reminders:

"An heir is essential, Damion. What is your legacy without one?"

Damion had looked at me then, blue eyes dark with frustration. "Enough, Isabelle. I don't need you telling me what he thinks. I hear it every day."

I wanted to tell him it wasn't just his father's voice-it was the voice of society, the whispers at every event, the looks that burned into my back when people thought I couldn't see. I was the barren wife, the woman who failed to fulfill her purpose. But I swallowed the words, choosing silence over another fight.

A sound from the hallway pulls me back to the present. I wait, holding my breath, half-expecting to hear his footsteps, to see Damion standing in the doorway with regret in his eyes. But there's nothing. The emptiness stretches on, cold and unforgiving.

With a shaky sigh, I grab my suitcase and walk to the living room. It feels strange, leaving the house I once called home, with its memories of laughter and quiet mornings. I pause by the table, picking up a pen and paper. The words come slowly, but they are my final tether to him.

Damion,

You took everything from me tonight-the life we built, the dreams we shared. But I'm walking away because clinging to what's left would destroy me more than this moment ever could. I hope you find whatever it is you're searching for.

Goodbye.

I place the letter on the table and glance around one last time. The silence wraps around me like a shroud, and I know that when he reads those words, it will be too late.

Just as I reach for the doorknob, my phone buzzes in my pocket. The sound jars me, breaking through the haze. I pull it out, blinking at the screen. A text from the hospital. My heart skips a beat as I read the words:

Your mother's condition is worsening. We need you here as soon as possible.