Chapter 3: Into the Lion’s Den
Isabella didn't walk down the aisle. She didn't finish the vows. She ripped the veil from her hair, threw the bouquet at the altar, and scooped the sobbing Sophie into her arms. She ignored the gasps of the guests and the shouts of the ushers. She ran.
She drove to the address she had memorized from the back of the note—a small, nondescript farmhouse on the edge of the county, far from the polished marble of the Thorne estate. Her hands were shaking so violently she could barely turn the key in the ignition.
As she pulled up to the house, the porch light flickered. A woman stepped out. It was her. Elena. She looked thin, worn, and terrified, but she was alive.
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The reunion wasn't cinematic. There was no slow-motion embrace. There was only the raw, ugly sound of ten years of grief pouring out of Isabella. "They told me you were dead," Isabella sobbed, holding her mother’s face. "They had a funeral. I buried an empty casket!"
Elena wept, clinging to her daughter. "Arthur threatened to kill you, Isabella. He discovered I was planning to pull the company out of the merger. He staged the accident. He made me disappear, but he couldn't kill me. I had Sophie... his secret daughter. He didn't know I was pregnant when he forced me to leave. He’s been hunting us ever since."
