Page 119 of The Heir

"I'm already married!" I spit out, however, common sense tells me to keep quiet about the baby in my womb.

"No,Isobel Brookesis married. ButCalliope Maniottiis not. Your bitch mother had your name changed and illegal documents drawn up when she went on the run. It was by sheer dumb luck that I found you. Thanks to ties your 'husband's' brother's friend had, we are now back in business, and I'm headed up the rank. And it's about time. You were supposed to be married off about seven years ago."

His eyes flash, showing me just how pissed he is to have been made to wait that long.

"I will never marry this man," I hiss, staring up at him from the floor. "I will kick, scream, fight. Make his life a living hell until he decides I'm more trouble than I'm worth."

Claudio's eyesnarrow. "Then I'll break you down until you're so docile you'll have no choice but to comply."

My own eyes narrow back."Good luck to you then.I guess we're just going to have to find out the hard way who's more stubborn of the two of us." And with that I roll over, presenting my back to him.

Hearing the door slam shut I let out a tear, wanting to be free, missing my husband. And I'm scared, so scared.

But I won't let him break me. I'll die first.

Chapter twenty-nine

Hell On Earth

Two weeks later

Leaving Marianne to see out my family who'd come to my house after Xavier's funeral, I bypass the staircase wearily, hauling myself down the hallway to my study in absoluteagony,my feet feeling like heavy weights dragging me down. I pass a mirror and stop reluctantly, seeing a man who's haggard, lifeless, useless.

Gray circles and bags are under my eyes, my beard has grown out and lost it's shine, my cheekbones stick out further. But that's just the outside. I couldn't give a fuck less about the outside.

My soul is bleeding, and I ask myself for the hundredth time that if Izzy and my baby dies-

My heart tightens at the thought and I grunt, holding my hand to my chest and pausing in the threshold of my study while I wait for thepain to pass. I tap my hand on my chest like the therapist instructed me. My hand trembles as I have to work hard to change the direction of my thoughts, taking myself away from Izzy's potential death to focus on my anger right now, the only thing keeping me sane.

Everyone's trying to rally behind me, but I'm ashamed to say that I can't feel their strength. Only able to feel the despair that threatens to debilitate me until I am but a shell of who I was. Like what's happening with Melody.

I can't stand to look at Mason right now. The fact that he's partly the reason we're in this shit shatters me in ways that I didn't even think was possible. I thought I disliked him before but now?

I hate him.

And I had to sit and listen to him try to explain how his friend, who is in the mafia, ratted Izzy out forfifty-thousand dollars.His friend had broken into his phone, texted with Isobel to see her location the day she was taken, and the rest is history.

Taking a deep breath I close the door to my office and then stand for a second, asking God to give me the strength I need to just sit my ass in my chair. That's all I need, enough strength to walk the twenty feet to my desk and sit.

I can do it.

It takes forever, but eventually I make it. My knees ache as I sit, weary, in the leather chair that my father gifted me when I bought this house just four years ago. The fireplace flickers, however, I can't feel it's warmth. No, this cold has settled so bone deep that I know it's because I'm feeling my connection with Izzy.

At least, I hope that's what it is. And I'm not feeling this cold because she's dea-

Clearing my throat hard, I dismiss the thought again and reach over to my desk drawer, opening it and then pushing the hidden button torelease the hidden compartment that houses the most priceless thing to me on Earth, aside from my wedding ring and our drawing.

I take the folded paper out and place it gently on the desktop in front of me. Just staring at the crisp edges of the paper. Lines so perfect because after I'd written it, I tucked it in my desk and never touched it again. Afraid I'd jinx it. I take a deep breath, reaching forward with trembling fingers and grasp the edge, pulling it open and flattening it. My eyes zero in on the date I'd wrote it.

It was the day she'd come to my office sick after Christopher had given her four year old tums.

Tears flood my eyes as I glance over the name written on top. And as I read, I can only get halfway through before a ragged groan leaves my chest and I put my fist to my mouth, leaning over and sobbing.

Isobel,

I hope you know how much more you're worth than your current situation. I see your value in every step you take, every time you put your eyes to your work, and every time you challenge me with your fiery spirit. I want you to know how much I desire you. Icraveyou. And not just because you're beautiful, and trust me, you have plenty of that, but because you shine so bright that your value is immeasurable, baby.

It's in every beautiful line and curve of who you are.

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