Chapter 5 Chapter 5 The Truth About Her Past Life as Isabella

"Cough..." She tried to pry his fingers away, but Ethan's grip was way too strong. "Let... let go..."

Ethan's words squeezed through his teeth, each one sharp and heavy. "Who told you you had the guts?"

What the hell?

"What are you even talking about? I seriously... I don't get it..."

"Heh... tried and failed to seduce me, and now you're switching to Liam because you're scared of losing the title of Mrs. Shaw?"

Her brain froze for a second, then her heart sank like a rock.

'No way. Celeste, what kind of wild stuff did you do before? You tried to seduce Ethan?!'

Even if you were lonely, you wouldn't seriously go after a man in a wheelchair, would you? Or... were you actually into the guy?

"Let me go - I can't breathe..." Her voice shook, and her eyes welled up. She smacked his arm over and over, genuinely panicking.

It wasn't until she looked like she might actually pass out that Ethan let go.

Celeste collapsed to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, gasping and touching the marks he left on her neck.

"Cough..." Seriously? Was he trying to choke the life out of her?

Are all men this damn aggressive?

"Get lost!" Ethan barked, shoving his wheelchair back a little. Fury simmered in his voice and eyes as he glared at her.

So he's not gonna press charges?

But when she reached up and felt how close she'd come to having her neck snapped, Celeste zipped her mouth. She gave a quick "okay," climbed to her feet, and slipped out of the bedroom, carefully closing the door behind her.

The second that door clicked shut, it hit her.

With Ethan's cold and aloof nature, no way he'd let the world know if his wife had cheated on him with his own brother. That'd ruin his pride, plain and simple.

But then another reality smacked her - he kicked her out of the bedroom, so... where the hell was she supposed to sleep?

This was getting ridiculous.

She looked around and noticed a small guest room right next to Ethan's.

Celeste pushed open the door. It was modest - a small bed, a wardrobe, and a bathroom.

Whatever. Better here than risk getting strangled by a pissed-off rich guy in a wheelchair.

Night fell. The breeze was cool, and she lay under a thin blanket, but sleep didn't come easy. Her mind kept flashing with scenes that had been buried deep.

A black Rolls-Royce crushed by a massive truck at an intersection, flames roaring as if the whole world was burning. Two charred bodies were pulled from the wreckage by medics.

That was her mom and dad.

The headline on a black-and-white newspaper read: [Major Crash in Yannburgh Outskirts at 5 AM-Business Tycoon Jonathan Goodwin and Wife Killed]. [Heiress Isabella Goodwin Missing... Fiancé Oliver Larson Currently in Custody and Offering a $5 Million Reward for Her Whereabouts.]

Ha... Oliver. Larson.

His name still hit sharp, like a dagger straight to the heart.

She used to be Isabella. And Oliver? The man she once loved with everything she had.

But in the end, all she got in return was betrayal. He actually wished death on her entire family.

She remembered that day clearly. She'd been running for her life, chased by a group of thugs, and only when she jumped into the sea did she finally realize - it had all been Oliver's scheme from the beginning.

He wanted her dead more than anyone.

So, Oliver, are you happy now?

You got the Goodwin fortune. You're living it up with the woman you really love.

But don't get too comfortable - I'm coming for what you owe me.