Isabella practically stormed down the hallway, her footsteps sharp and echoing against the marble floor. Her chest felt tight, her heartbeat too loud. She didn't knock when she reached her father's room — she pushed the door open.
Christian looked up from the desk, startled."Isabella—"
"How could you?" Her voice cracked. She didn't shout — but the hurt in her tone was sharper than any scream. "How could you bring me here without telling me anything? A wedding? My wedding?"
Her father closed his eyes, his posture sinking with the weight of something old and heavy.
"Bella, I—"
"No," she cut him off, shaking her head. "Don't call me that. Not now."She took a breath. "Why didn't you tell me the truth?"
Christian looked years older than he had that morning. He gestured for her to sit, but she remained standing — rigid, distant.
"It was arranged," he said finally, quietly. "Years ago. Before you could understand. Before any of this mattered."
"And you never thought it might matter to me now?" Isabella whispered, voice trembling.
His voice cracked. "I didn't want this for you. But I owed Lucien Ashwell a debt I could never repay. This marriage was the only agreement that allowed our family to stay safe… to stay alive."
Her heart dropped.Alive.The word hit like ice.
"There's more," she whispered, afraid to ask. "Isn't there?"
Christian hesitated — and that hesitation told her everything.
"Tell me."This time her voice was firmer. Sharp. Demanding.
He exhaled slowly, hands trembling slightly.
"In the contract… it states that once you're married…"His eyes met hers."…you are expected to provide an heir."
Silence.A silence heavy enough to crush bones.
Isabella felt the room tilt.Her stomach twisted.It felt like the ground had been pulled from under her feet.
"So I'm not just supposed to marry him," she breathed. "I'm supposed to have his children. For a promise you made."
Christian's eyes filled with regret. "I never wanted this life for you. But if I break the agreement… Isabella, our family loses everything. And more than that — Lucien is not a man who forgives broken oaths."
She stepped back.Once. Twice.As if distance could protect her from the truth.
"I can't do this," she whispered. "I won't be traded. I won't be… used."
"Isabella—"
She didn't wait.She left.
Her room felt colder than before.The walls felt too close.The air too thin.
She opened her closet and pulled out her suitcase.Her hands were steady now — frighteningly steady.
She folded clothes blindly, without thinking—just moving.Pack.Pack.Pack.
Her mind raced.
I'm not staying here. I'm not marrying him. I'm not having his children. I can leave. I can go home. I can go anywhere.
Her heart hammered — but there, underneath the panic — determination.
She zipped the suitcase closed, breath shaking.
Tomorrow, before anyone wakes up…She leaves.
She doesn't need a plan.Just distance.Just freedom.
Run, her mind whispered.
And for the first time since arriving at Ashwell Mansion — she felt like she could breathe.