Chapter 2 The Aftermath & A shocking Discovery

Chapter 2

ISLA'S POV

Going home, there was only one emotion swirling inside me like a torrent. Anger. "No one treats me like that and goes scot free." I smirked at my reflection in the mirror. "How were you treated? And who dared?" Ford, my father's right hand man was standing by my door. "How long have you standing there?" I asked him, cocking my gun. I disliked intrusion. "Calm down, tough sport. I haven't entered. Only at the door post. Besides, you left the door open not me." He raised his hand up. "Right. Come on in. It's weird talking to you from the door." I allowed him in. He walked in and went straight to the bed. "Couldn't risk you shooting me before I told you your mission." He sat down, making himself comfortable. "What's the mission?" "We are hunting down an infiltrators." Ford smiled. For the next three weeks, we carried out the mission. A few bullets of mine were lost on some very foolish men. My anger probably originated from that unforgettable night and unbelievable insult. I didn't know his full name but I could never forget the face of Evans. Pompous bastard. When my father had interrogated me on my disappearance that night, I had no tangible reply. "You keep secrets now, but I'll find out soon enough." He said as a low warning before entering his car to go on his trip. Just before my mission. Now, I was throwing up. No temperature or body weakness. Just nausea and morning sickness. "Are you pregnant, miss?" Clara, the maid that came in once a week, asked me with worried eyes. "Of course not. I'm only stressed out. Why?" I frowned at her. She was scared of me and the job I did. "You have all the signs." She murmured. "If you don't want to be rushed off to the hospital to be amputated, you'll shut up, Clara." I frowned. "I'm not pregnant. Let me not hear another word of it in this house." After another wave of nausea hit me the next morning, I rushed off to the hospital. A different one from what our family used. To run tests. Positive! "There's a mistake with that result." I said to the nurse who gave me a smile of pity. I rushed to the pharmacy for over the counter medication. I bought a pregnancy test strip. When I got home, I ignored Ford. He was saying something... I hurried to my room. Following the instructions, I peed on the strip. Waiting the few minutes for the results, with a shaky hands. "Please be negative, please don't be a baby." I silently prayed. I stare at the test in my trembling hands. Two pink lines. Bold. Unmistakable. My breath hitches. This can't be happening. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the result to change, to disappear. But when I open them, the lines remain, glaring back at me like a sentence I can't escape. "Evans." I whisper his name like a curse, like a prayer. Where is he? How do I even begin to find him? I did not know his last name. Nothing but his face. He had given me that money to prevent this from happening. Treated me like some street rag he could use for his night of pleasure. The room feels smaller, the walls pressing in as I began to imagine what would happen when my father finds out. I press a hand to my stomach. I'm not ready for this. "I'll be buried. Or have the baby removed!" I sighed. Tears falling from my eyes. A strong woman like me was having existential crisis because of a silly one night mistake. The next few days, I began to reject food. Avoiding anything that would make me nauseous. I had successfully hid the news, test strips and hospital results from everyone especially Dad. So why did I feel guilty sitting across from him at the dinning table. All morning, since he sat down for breakfast Dad has been staring at me. So was Ford. Like some information had reached them and I was the last one to know. "Are you alright?" Ford asked as I ate only black berries, one morning. "Any reason why I shouldn't be?" I eyed him. He was a very sharp man. I'm sure he could tell that something was going on. "You look pale and half dead, Isla. Nobody looks like that all the time except they're sick." He replied. Washing down the meat loaf cut he just had with whiskey. "I'm alright." I replied before excusing myself from the table. My father, who had been looking without saying a word, nodded his approval for me to leave the table. It was also a sign for Ford to stop questioning me. "Did he find out?" I asked my reflection. Not getting any answers, I went to rinse my mouth. Prepared to lay down. The door bursts open with a crash, and I jolt upright. My father stands in the doorway, his face dark with fury. "Who?" His voice is sharp, slicing through the air like a blade. I clutch the blanket tighter around me, my heart pounding so hard it hurts. "Dad-" "Don't stall, Isla." He steps closer, his presence suffocating. "Tell me his name." "Whose name?" I am genuinely confused but that increases his anger. "Playing dumb won't cut it, Isla!" He warned. My silence only fuels his rage. His fist slams against my dresser, rattling everything on it. "Who put a baby in you?" His voice is low, dangerous. "I'll kill him." "How?" "I told you that I would find that secret soon enough." He tapped his fingers on the dresser. "Dad, please," I whisper, my throat tight. "Just let me handle this." My father shocks me by bursting into a full blown laughter. His laugh is humorless. Void of joy or happiness. "Handle this? You think I'll let some bastard disappear after doing this to you?" He shakes his head, eyes burning with fury. "Evans. That's his name, isn't it?" I freeze. Of course he already knows. He had only been waiting for me to do something about it by myself. "Answer me!" He says lowly. I nod. Feeling shame wash over me like a tidal wave. "Then Evans will be found," he vows. "As long as I'm the one searching, there's no hole deep enough for him to hide." Terror grips me. Not for myself-but for Evans. I open my mouth to say something, but my father is already storming out, barking orders. Evans doesn't know it yet, but he's a marked man. Amidst the fear, I felt relieved. I would be seeing my handsome stranger again.