Wrong Room, Wrong Groom: Now He Won't Let Me Go

For nearly three days, Isabella Brown had been locked inside the warehouse. Curled tightly in the corner, she shivered without pause, her frail body shaking from hunger, thirst, and the bitter chill that seemed to rise from the floor itself. A heavy haze clouded her thoughts, leaving her weak and half-dazed.

Throughout all that time, her stepfather never once appeared, and not even her own mother had brought her so much as a bite of food.

What tormented Isabella the most was wondering how Natalie Brown, her older sister, was doing...

She still could not understand how their mother could be so cruel, so utterly coldhearted, that for the sake of her half-brother's future, she would force her and Natalie to marry a pair of old men.

Earlier, Natalie had warned her sister not to agree no matter what happened, and she had even made plans to run away from home with Isabella in secret. But that very night, their stepfather found out.

All Isabella could do was watch in horror as Natalie was hurled hard against the wall by his brutal hands, while she herself was dragged away and locked inside this airless, lightless warehouse.

A biting chill rose from the damp concrete, creeping deep into her bones, yet Isabella could only think of Natalie-where she was, whether she was safe, and if their stepfather had already dragged her into a forced marriage.

Just as her heavy eyelids began to slip shut again, the warehouse door groaned open with a harsh scrape.

Summoning the last of her strength, Isabella forced her eyes wide, squinting into the harsh spill of light as a slender, achingly familiar silhouette appeared in the doorway.

"Bella!"

That voice-soft, urgent, unmistakable. It was Natalie.

Through her haze, Isabella watched Natalie rush forward without hesitation, dropping to her knees and wrapping her arms tightly around her frail, trembling body.

"Nat..." Isabella parted her cracked lips, but her throat was so parched that no real words came out. Tears spilled down her face before she could force a sound.

"Don't be scared. I'm okay." With reddened eyes, Natalie hurriedly brushed the tears from Isabella's cheeks, even though her own were glistening.

Before Isabella could even ask what had happened over the past few days, Natalie drew a breath and said, "Would you marry into the Evans family with me? The Evans family is incredibly rich. One of the sons is thirty-two, and the other is twenty-four. Even if there's no love in it, that still has to be better than being handed over to a couple of old men..."

Everyone in Ariotin knew that the Evans family stood at the very top, powerful and untouchable. No matter how hard Isabella tried to make sense of it, she still couldn't understand why a family like that would ever agree to let her and Natalie marry into their household.

Compared to the Evans family, Isabella's stepfather's little business barely even counted.

Natalie's words left Isabella reeling, her thoughts drifting in a haze. She had no idea what choice to make, but one thing felt certain-Natalie would never lie to her.

Besides, no matter how uncertain this marriage was, joining the Evans family had to be better than being handed off to some disgusting old man.

"Natalie, I'll do it. Wherever you go, I'm going with you."

...

Three days later, the Evans family sent someone to take Isabella and Natalie and bring them to the hospital for a full physical examination.

Natalie's instructions echoed clearly in Isabella's mind. She was to marry Nathaniel Evans, the younger son, while Natalie would be paired with Alexander Evans, the eldest son.

No ceremony had been arranged by the Evans family-no flowers, no vows, no celebration. Instead, a cold condition had been set: a three-month trial. Within that narrow window, both she and Natalie were expected to conceive. Only then would the family acknowledge them as legitimate wives.

A chill of dread crept through Isabella's chest, tightening her breath. She had never even dated anyone before, yet now she was being pushed into marriage-and motherhood-without so much as a moment to prepare herself.

Rumors whispered in her ears like shadows she couldn't shake. Alexander was said to be distant and unfeeling, a man wrapped in ice. Nathaniel, on the other hand, carried a far worse reputation-a reckless flirt, notorious for his endless string of affairs.

Even so, there was no path left for them to choose.

As she lingered there, Isabella watched Natalie disappear toward the restroom, leaving her standing alone in the quiet hallway.

The person who had escorted them earlier suddenly hurried over. "Miss Brown, the hospital will forward your examination results directly to the Evans family. If there are no issues, two cars will arrive tonight to take you and your sister to the residences of Mr. Nathaniel Evans and Mr. Alexander Evans. As for the marriage registration, that will be completed tomorrow." After that, he gave two nearly identical license plate numbers-one for Alexander's car and one for Nathaniel's-and made her commit them to memory.

Never particularly skilled at handling things on her own, Isabella had always relied on Natalie to guide her.

She gave a small, uneasy nod as her heartbeat thudded loudly in her chest.

By evening, the Evans family's cars were already waiting at the entrance of their house.

Keeping her head lowered, Isabella-slender and fragile-followed closely behind the bodyguard, her entire body tense as though every step required effort.

She strained to remember which plate belonged to the right car, hesitated, and then convinced herself she had it straight before slipping inside-only for the cold truth to be that she'd chosen the wrong one.

Lingering a step behind, Natalie paused, her gaze flicking between the two cars with a hint of confusion before she quickly slipped into the other one.

Under the cover of night, the two sleek black cars pulled away, heading in completely opposite directions.

By the time the car finally rolled to a gentle stop, Isabella had lost all sense of how long they'd been driving. She pushed the door open in a hurry, nerves prickling under her skin, afraid that even a small misstep would make her seem inadequate.

"Miss Brown, Mr. Evans' bedroom is the first door on the third floor."

Nothing about Nathaniel's villa matched what she'd imagined-it was far larger, far emptier. At such a late hour, the silence felt unsettling, as if the entire house had gone dark, with only the soft, golden glow along the staircase barely lighting the way.

Keeping her steps light, she crept upstairs, her heartbeat echoing in her ears until she finally reached the bedroom door.

Without pausing to look around, she pushed it open, her mind fixed on every word of Natalie's instructions.

All she'd been told was simple: shower carefully, and then lie on the bed and wait-no matter what, she couldn't let Nathaniel see any fault in her.

Nervous breaths caught in her throat as Isabella slipped into the bathroom. Panic buzzed under her skin, and without thinking it through, she turned the water cold and stood beneath it, letting the chill wash over her trembling body.

Only after stepping out did it hit her-there were no clothes for her to change into. Flustered, she hurried back to the bed, bare feet silent against the floor as she dove under the sheets, pulling them up in a rush.

In her mind, she tried to justify it. Since she would have to undress eventually anyway, skipping that step now hardly made a difference.

Darkness swallowed the room completely, leaving her staring upward with wide, restless eyes. The sheets carried a faint cedar scent, clean yet unfamiliar, and it only made the cold seep deeper into her bones.

A subtle sound finally broke the silence at the bedroom door.

Her chest tightened in an instant, breath hitching as her fingers clenched the fabric, dragging the sheets tightly around herself. Only her wide, fearful eyes remained visible as they fixed on the door.

From the dim spill of hallway light, a tall, straight-backed silhouette stepped inside, bringing with it the crisp scent of cedar laced with a faint trace of alcohol that drifted toward her.

Without bothering to flip on the light, he lingered comfortably in the shadows, as though the darkness belonged to him. He pushed the door closed behind him, sealing away the last thin strip of hallway light.

Instantly, the room sank into thick, suffocating blackness, and Isabella found herself holding her breath without realizing it.

After a brief stillness-like he'd picked up on something-he stepped closer, the faint shift of air warning her before the mattress dipped under his weight.

Hidden in the dark, she felt his attention settle on her, sharp and deliberate, as if he were studying every inch of her without needing to see.

Without warning, his cool, slightly rough fingertips brushed along her cheek, sweeping aside the damp strands of hair clinging to her skin.

A tremor ran through Isabella, her body reacting before she could stop it.

Then his hand slid beneath the sheets.

"Not wearing anything?" His voice came out low and even, lacking the careless charm she'd expected from someone with his reputation; instead, it carried a quiet, controlled weight.

Isabella was too scared to speak. She took a couple of deep breaths. "I... I couldn't find anything to wear..."

A faint crease formed between Alexander's brows.

Memory flickered-his mother's calm assurance that this girl was composed, sensible, the kind who could run a household without trouble-but the trembling figure before him didn't match that description at all.

Without a word, he reached for the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one with unhurried precision.

A cold shiver ran through Isabella as his presence closed in, heavy and undeniable, pressing down on her senses until her thoughts scattered, slipping further and further beyond her control.

Exhaustion weighed on Isabella's slender body after the relentless night.

From one moment to the next, the man had shifted her position-turning her onto her stomach, and then onto her back-treating her fragile frame as if it belonged entirely to him. Despite the tremor in her legs and the dull ache that left her nearly limp, she swallowed every protest, not daring to push back against the man she was meant to marry-a stranger who still felt unfamiliar in every way.

Morning light seeped quietly into the room. When her eyes fluttered open, Isabella found the man still asleep beside her. Freed from the cover of darkness, she gathered her courage and carefully studied the man she had believed to be Nathaniel.

The instant her gaze settled on his face, Alexander's eyes snapped open.

Caught off guard, Isabella jerked back in alarm, her bare leg brushing against his. Heat rushed to her cheeks as fragments of the night returned in a dizzying flood, leaving her flustered and unable to meet his eyes.

Only then did Alexander truly take her in.

Her small, delicate face looked almost too pale beneath the soft morning light, the faint flush coloring her cheeks betraying both fear and lingering embarrassment. Her damp eyes stared at him, startled and unguarded.

A flicker of doubt crossed his mind-Natalie Brown was supposed to be twenty-five, yet the woman in front of him looked far too young, almost fragile in comparison.

Intending to lay out the terms clearly, he composed himself, lowered his voice, and said, "You should already understand why this marriage was arranged."

Before he could continue, Isabella rushed to cut him off, her voice trembling. "I know, Nathaniel. I... I'll try my best to get pregnant."

Something darkened in his gaze. "Nathaniel?" he repeated, his tone sharpening.

"Y-yes..."

At once, the atmosphere around Alexander dropped several degrees, an icy tension settling over the room.

Back in the pitch-black haze of the night before, he had already felt that something wasn't right. She had been far too timid-nothing like the sweet, composed Natalie his mother had described.

Alcohol had dulled his senses before, and the yielding warmth of her body had pulled his attention away from the inconsistencies he ought to have noticed.

"Who exactly are you?" Authority weighed heavily in his tone, cold and unmistakable.

Startled by the sudden shift, Isabella's body trembled as she stammered, "I... I'm Isabella Brown..."

"You're not Natalie Brown?" he asked, his voice dropping to an even colder register. "So you're the Brown family's second daughter..."

Moisture gathered in Isabella's eyes as panic tightened her chest, and she nodded weakly, fear written all over her pale face.

A sudden realization struck her-this man wasn't Nathaniel at all, but her would-be brother-in-law, Alexander.

Everything had gone horribly wrong.

An icy pressure radiated off Alexander, suffocating in its intensity.

Curled tightly beneath the rumpled sheets, Isabella trembled as tears spilled freely down her cheeks. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

Fragments from the night before flickered through Alexander's mind-her clumsy, inexperienced responses, the faint, broken sounds she'd made, and the way her eyes had brimmed with tears at dawn.

Of course... no wonder something had felt off. She'd been far too timid, too fragile. The truth settled in with brutal clarity-the sisters had been switched, placed with the wrong men... And he had taken the wrong woman.

And Nathaniel and Natalie...

Pressing two fingers to his aching temples, Alexander fixed a dark, unreadable look on the girl curled up on the bed, her narrow shoulders still trembling with helpless sobs.

"Stay here. Don't leave this room unless I say so."

His words scared Isabella so badly her crying cut off at once. With her eyes wet and red and the tip of her nose flushed pink, she looked heartbreakingly small.

Without another word, Alexander turned and strode out of the bedroom, phone already in hand as he called Nathaniel.

...

Elsewhere, Nathaniel was jolted awake by the shrill ring of his phone in the early morning. He cast a lazy glance at the woman beside him, still turned away with her back to him, before answering the call. "Who is this?" His voice was rough with sleep and obvious irritation.

A faint disturbance pulled Natalie out of sleep.

Rolling onto her side, she winced slightly, the lingering ache in her muscles making itself known with every small movement.

Never had she imagined a man in his thirties could still possess such relentless stamina.

Almost unconsciously, her hand drifted to rest over her lower abdomen, her fingers pressing lightly as quiet certainty settled in her mind-within three months, she would be pregnant... assuming there was nothing wrong with him.

Everything hinged on that child. Once she carried Alexander's child, love or no love would no longer matter; her place as his wife in the Evans family would be secured, giving her the power she needed to shield Isabella.

With that foundation in place, even if Isabella failed and was sent back to the Brown family, Natalie believed she could still speak to Alexander-soften him, persuade him-until he agreed to bring Isabella back under his protection.

Nathaniel's voice cut cleanly through her spiraling thoughts, low and almost amused. "Come again? I ended up sleeping with my sister-in-law?"

The sentence hit Natalie like a sudden bolt of thunder.

A soft laugh slipped from Nathaniel's lips, casual and unconcerned. "Not exactly my sister-in-law though-you guys haven't registered the marriage yet. We can just switch back." With an easy tone, he added, "You don't have a problem with that, do you, Alex?"

Once the call ended, Natalie pushed herself upright, fingers tightening around the blanket.

Reclining against the headboard, Nathaniel remained bare-chested and utterly at ease, his sharp gaze lingering on the woman beside him as he quietly took her in.

The whole situation felt surreal, almost laughably absurd. He hadn't been particularly interested in the woman his mother had chosen for him, but this kind of mix-up crossed into something ridiculous.

That explained why Natalie had seemed so fearless the night before-her unexpected boldness had even caught him off guard.

Memories of that night surfaced in both Nathaniel's and Natalie's minds, sharp and unmistakable.

When Nathaniel had pushed open the bedroom door, his mother's warning still lingered in his ears-"Don't be too rough, and don't scare the girl... She's only twenty."

Despite that gentle reminder, a rebellious streak had stirred in him, a quiet impulse to do exactly the opposite.

She was only twenty-young, likely sheltered, and utterly inexperienced, he thought.

Across the dimly lit room, Natalie sat composed and unflinching, her quiet confidence stirring a flicker of playful curiosity in him.

A crooked hint of a smile tugged at his lips as he asked, almost lazily, "Do you even understand why you're here?"

For a brief beat, Natalie stilled. Then, weighing Alexander's age and experience, she assumed he'd long grown used to women putting on sweet and innocent acts-there was no point in pretending to be coy now.

Meeting his gaze head-on, she answered without hesitation, "I'm here to have sex with you."

Nathaniel's brow lifted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face when he realized she was already aware of it.

A low chuckle slipped from his throat as he leaned back, unable to make out her features in the darkness, though her slim silhouette was unmistakable.

"So, if we're doing this, at least try to make it worth my while first."

Before the last word had fully left his lips, she shifted forward, settling onto his lap with a sudden decisiveness that caught Nathaniel off guard, her fingers already moving to his belt. Shock flashed through his eyes for a split second before it melted into a slow, intrigued smile, clearly entertained by her unexpected boldness.

He cleared his throat softly, steadying his tone as he added, "Why don't you start by taking yours off?"

For a brief moment, Nathaniel stilled himself, deliberately holding back any visible reaction so he wouldn't appear too eager.

Inwardly, a satisfied thought flickered across his mind-his mother, it seemed, had made a surprisingly fitting choice this time.

As his body lowered over hers, pressing her into the mattress, her voice suddenly cut through the tension. "Hold on, Mr. Evans."

Before he could react, she reached beside her, grabbed a pillow, and slid it beneath her hips-a trick she'd heard that could help with getting pregnant.

In Natalie's mind, there was no room for hesitation-only a single, unwavering goal: she had to get pregnant as soon as possible. "Let's... continue for about half an hour. Would that be alright?"

A faint crease formed between Nathaniel's brows, irritation stirring as he felt reduced to nothing more than a means to her end.

With deliberate ease, he slipped open the buttons of her shirt, and then lowered his head to claim her lips in a slow, lingering kiss.

...

Afterward, Natalie tilted her head against his chest and murmured softly, "Would you... hold me like this for a bit?"

A faint, amused curve touched Nathaniel's lips, his gaze lowering as he assumed she was-after all-just another inexperienced girl, craving warmth after the act.

Just as he considered making her plead for it, her next words slipped out-calm, almost matter-of-fact. "It increases the chances of getting pregnant."

Irritation flickered across his face, sharp and unmistakable.

Instead, he brushed off her request entirely, letting the night drag on in a way that left her no chance for rest.

...

Shock flickered through Nathaniel as the realization settled in-he had slept with the woman intended for his older brother, Alexander.

From the corner of his eye, he studied Natalie, only to find her far steadier than he was.

Pulling the blanket higher over her chest, she smoothed the fabric with composed fingers before breaking the heavy silence. "So... what happened last night... was a mix-up?"

Watching her maintain that calm, almost detached composure, Nathaniel found his mind drifting back to the night before-how she had climbed onto him without hesitation, how she had even slipped a pillow beneath herself with quiet calculation-and the irritation he thought he'd shaken off began to creep in again, tightening subtly in his chest.

A low scoff escaped him. "Yeah. Some mix-up."

Displeasure creased Natalie's brow, though she swallowed whatever retort rose to her lips, clearly unwilling to waste time arguing.

"Then what about your brother... what's he planning to do?" Concern laced Natalie's voice now, her thoughts clearly drifting toward Isabella-and the mess they were all tangled in.

Natalie refused to let either herself or Isabella get sent back.

Nathaniel remembered the icy edge in Alexander's voice on the phone and knew this mess would have to be dealt with back at the Evans Estate.

Still, he said on purpose, "What else is there to do? We'll leave it as it is."

At that, Natalie went still. In her mind, timid little Isabella had already been thrown into Alexander's hands, and a man like him was far too unreadable, far too dangerous.

"No. Absolutely not." Panic sharpened her voice as she shot back. "Bella's too young and too innocent. She can't stay with your brother."

With a faint, mocking look in his eyes, Nathaniel replied, "Natalie, do you really think the Evans family would tolerate a mess like this? Or do you honestly think my brother would agree to hand over a woman he'd already slept with and send her to my bed?"

Nathaniel's words hit too close to the mark, draining the color from Natalie's face as her fingers curled tightly into her palms, nails pressing hard enough to sting.

Deep down, she couldn't deny it-everything he said was true. There was no way the Evans family would ever allow something this outrageous to come to light.

A hollow dimness crept into her eyes, and Nathaniel caught it instantly; the irritation in his chest eased a little, replaced by a faint, almost lazy amusement.

In that fleeting shift, he recognized it-the one weak point beneath her composed exterior, the crack she couldn't quite hide.

Leaning closer, he casually hooked a strand of her long hair around his finger, his voice slipping back into that easy, careless tone. "What's done is done. You might as well accept it. You'd be better off with me than my frigid brother. Isn't having a child what you want?" Leaning in until his breath ghosted over the shell of her ear, he dropped his voice to a low, coaxing whisper. "At least with me, getting pregnant won't be such a hassle-no tricks, no pillows."

His words hit her like a sudden weight, and her chest tightened as her gaze dimmed.

Concern for Isabella weighed heavily on her. It made little difference to Natalie herself which brother she ended up marrying, but as the eldest boy in the Evans family, Alexander came with far more than just himself-Isabella, as his future wife, would have to face not only him but his formidable parents as well.

Curled up alone on the bed, Isabella wrapped her arms around her knees, a subtle shiver rippling through her body.

Under her breath, she scolded herself for ruining something so important and offending the Evans family, with no idea how they would deal with her or Nathalie now.

Anxious thoughts kept circling through her mind. She wondered whether Nathaniel had already slept with Nathalie the night before, and she was terrified that if the Evans family took offense, both of them would be sent straight back home.

Worry pinched her brows tightly. Huddled there in a shaken little heap, she looked frightened and helpless, while the red marks scattered across her body stood as cruel traces of the night before, enough to make anyone's chest ache.

A moment later, Alexander finished his call and stepped back into the bedroom. This whole absurd mess had never been part of his plan either.

When his eyes shifted toward the bed, he found Isabella sitting there in a daze, trembling so badly she looked almost sick.

Memories of his unchecked intensity from the night before resurfaced. At that thought, he crossed the room in measured strides.

"Are you alright? Anywhere hurt?" he asked.

At the sound of him so close, Isabella's breath hitched sharply. She gave a quick, instinctive shake of her head, yet her throat felt parched to the point where no words would come.

After a brief pause, Alexander studied her pale face before speaking again, his tone settling into a steady calm. "What's done is done. We'll need to deal with what happened properly. I'll speak to my parents about it first and then we'll decide what to do next. Your sister still has to marry into the Evans family. But as for you... If you're unwilling, I can arrange some compensation and have you sent back to your family."

Forcing a woman had never been something he would do. Originally, Natalie had been the one meant to marry into the family to comfort his ailing grandmother, and given his age, the arrangement had made practical sense.

As for Isabella, she had only accompanied Natalie into the household, an unintended shadow in this marriage arrangement. Had he realized the mix-up from the night before, he would never have crossed that line with her.

Before he could finish speaking, however, Isabella's reaction came sharp and immediate. "No... I don't want to go back!"

She understood all too well what going back meant-being forced into marriage with an older man she couldn't stand.

Desperation crept into her voice as she clutched at this fleeting chance. "Please... I don't want to go back. I'll listen to everything you say. I'll do whatever you need... I... I'll even try to get pregnant as soon as possible... Just... please..."

Perched on the edge of the bed, she kept her head bowed, tangled hair falling over her face in messy strands, her thin fingers gripping the blanket. Nothing about her posture resembled a bride facing her future husband.

Silence stretched as Alexander lingered on her for a moment.

What unsettled him most was the memory of his own lapse-how he had lost control the previous night and kept her awake far too long.

Though their bodies had fit together with unsettling ease, the thought only sharpened his concern; she was far too young, far too fragile for the role he required.

What he needed was a composed, capable woman who could navigate the complexities of his family, not someone who would crumble under pressure and create more complications.

"If you're going to stand beside me as my wife, you'll need the kind of social grace that protects a family's reputation. Your sister manages that well-can you?"

Caught off guard, Isabella stiffened. Her timid nature made her voice drop to a barely audible whisper whenever she spoke to others.

Deep down, she had longed to be bold and composed like Nathalie, yet childhood memories of harsh punishments for the slightest misstep had carved fear into her bones, leaving her hesitant to utter a word most of the time...

Understanding that Nathalie's protection would not last forever, Isabella pushed herself to lift her gaze as she spoke. "Mr. Evans... I can learn. I'll work hard. I'll do whatever it takes..."

"And what makes you think I would take the time to teach you?"

At Alexander's words, the fragile light in her eyes dimmed, her expression paling as if she had been startled in the glare of sudden headlights. Watching her reaction, he felt an unexpected tug at his chest.

He had no intention of being cruel; he was merely stating an undeniable truth.

Had Isabella been destined to marry Nathaniel, their mother might have overlooked her shortcomings without much fuss, but becoming his wife was an entirely different matter.

The Evans family operated with layered expectations that weren't easy to navigate. Patience wasn't something Alexander was willing to spend on teaching a timid woman how to survive it.

"Everything will have to be discussed with my parents at the Evans Estate. I've already arranged for proper clothes to be sent over. If you present yourself like this in front of them, there's no chance you'll be accepted into the family."

Despite his firm tone, he hadn't completely shut her out. After all, the night before had crossed a line neither of them had planned, and no one welcomed a situation that messy or unexpected.

With that, he turned and walked out.

Left alone, Isabella remained seated on the bed, her thoughts drifting in a haze as she tried to grasp whether she still had a chance-if, perhaps, his parents agreed.

Clinging to that hope, she pushed herself upright and slipped out of bed.

Just as her feet touched the carpet, the door swung open from the outside. A middle-aged woman stepped in. Startled, Isabella instinctively shrank back, heat flooding her face as she became keenly aware of the faint marks scattered across her skin.

Then Alexander's earlier words echoed in her mind.

Forcing herself to steady, she drew in a shaky breath and pulled the blanket tighter around her body, shielding what she could. "Put..." A broken rasp slipped from her throat as she struggled to raise her voice. "Put it there. I'll get it myself."

As soon as the woman withdrew and the door clicked shut, Isabella scrambled for the clothes, only for her shaky legs to buckle and send her crumpling to the floor.

Tears burned at her nose, but she bit them back, forced herself up, and dressed as fast as she could. To her surprise, the clothes fit her almost perfectly.

Once she had washed her face, she stopped in front of the full-length mirror. Her complexion was still wan and fragile, yet the neatly tailored white dress softened her into a picture of quiet innocence, making her look, at least on the surface, not entirely out of place as Alexander's wife.

She tried on a smile at her reflection, but it came out tight and awkward, like something that didn't belong on her face.

Just then, a knock landed on the bedroom door, followed by Alexander's flat, unreadable voice from outside. "Are you ready?"

Her heart gave a sudden jump. After one last glance at herself in the mirror, Isabella steadied her breathing, pushed down her nerves, and went to open the door.

Standing just outside, Alexander was already dressed in a crisp, dark suit, his presence carrying a quiet, chilling authority.

His eyes moved over her in a brief, assessing sweep. While the lingering fear in her gaze hadn't disappeared, he noted that she at least looked presentable now, her posture no longer entirely collapsed. "Let's go."

Isabella's steps wavered, her legs still weak, yet she gathered her strength to keep pace, quietly following behind him.

...

At the Evans Estate, Isabella trailed after Alexander. The moment she stepped inside, she saw that her sister had already arrived.

Natalie sat beside a young man who looked so much like Alexander they could only be brothers.

As Isabella turned toward her, Natalie met her gaze at once, her eyes brimming with worry.

Nathaniel's eyes dropped immediately to the faint love marks peeking out beneath Isabella's collar.

A sharp laugh broke from him without warning, cutting through the stillness in the room, yet he looked perfectly at ease.

"So, Alex, did you bring her back for me?" he drawled.

Crossing the room, Nathaniel gave Isabella a slow, appraising look before leaning in closer to Alexander.

Handsome as he was, Isabella instinctively felt there was something mean and rotten in him, a vicious streak that made her skin crawl.

"Hey, if you don't want the younger one, then why not hand both sisters over to me?"

With a sharp, frosty look sweeping across the room, Alexander silenced Nathaniel for a brief moment. Then the younger brother let out a careless scoff. "Forget it. Keep her. I don't want a woman you've already had sex with anyway."

From where he sat, Jude Evans watched his wayward son, Nathaniel, with piercing eyes, and then struck his cane against the floor with a heavy crack. "Keep talking, and I'll snap your leg."

Once everyone had taken their seats, Pamela Evans-Alexander and Nathaniel's mother-finally spoke in a measured voice. "Tell me exactly what happened yesterday."

Her cool, penetrating gaze moved over Natalie and then settled on Isabella.

Natalie parted her lips, ready to respond, but one warning look from Pamela stopped her cold. "Isabella, you tell us," Pamela said calmly.

At once, Isabella rose to her feet, swallowing against the tightness in her throat as she tried to keep her voice from shaking. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Evans. Yesterday, I read the license plate wrong, so I got into the wrong car."

The moment the words fell from her mouth, the room went utterly still.

Pamela's sharp, measuring eyes lingered on Isabella's pale features.

Timid as Isabella looked, she had at least told the truth without trying to push the blame onto anyone else.

"You read it wrong?" Pamela's voice stayed even, yet the quiet weight behind it pressed down on the entire room. "Something this important happened, and you expect to dismiss it as a simple mistake?"