Chapter 17 Isabel #2
I thought about Kick tracking me to Whitmore when I’d lied about going to Italy. Refusing to leave even when I begged him to. Holding my hand in the hospital when I thought I was losing the baby, his demeanor steady even though I could see the fear in his eyes.
I thought about his mother calling me mija. About Alex and his sisters-in-law making room for me at their table. About a whole family opening their arms to a woman who’d given them no reason to even like her.
“He stayed,” I said. “And he never once made me feel like I had to earn his love.”
I wiped my eyes again.
“You wouldn’t recognize love because you’ve never given it. Not to me anyway. Maybe you did to my mother. But you made sure she held herself away from me too. You took control and manipulated her.”
I felt sick to my stomach and relieved at the same time when he didn’t deny it.
I looked up at the person I no longer thought of as my father.
He was just a man. As if it happened in an instant, he looked pale, almost frail, to me now.
I’d never spoken to him the way I was. I’d never yelled, never pushed back, never said the things that had been building inside me since I was old enough to feel the pain of his wrath.
But I wasn’t finished.
“My mother died, and you disappeared.” Years of grief and anger rose to the surface. “I was twenty-two years old and an orphan. She wasn’t the only one who died; you might as well have too.”
Baron’s hand shook, and he set his glass on a table beside him.
“I needed a father. I needed someone to tell me it was going to be okay, that we would get through it together. And you gave me a checkbook. You gave me a credit card and a pat on the head, and you sent me away because you couldn’t stand to look at me.”
“That’s not true—”
“I look just like her.” My voice broke. “I know that. Every time you looked at me, you saw her. And you couldn’t stand it. You wished she were still alive. If you could have, you would’ve traded my life for hers in a heartbeat.”
“I was grieving—”
“So was I!” I shouted. “And you let me know in no uncertain terms that I would vanish into thin air. No longer be a weight of responsibility around your neck. No longer be a reminder of the one person you actually loved.”
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. I hadn’t meant to cry. Hadn’t wanted to give him that. But the tears came anyway.
“I spent my whole life waiting for something you’re incapable of giving. The sadder part is, neither of you was capable of it,” I said. “But I’m done. I found someone who fills all the empty spaces inside of me, and to him, it comes naturally because he loves me.”
“Isabel—”
“I’m keeping my baby.” My hand moved to my stomach. “I’m staying with Kick. I’m building a life that has nothing to do with you. You’re as dead to me as my mother is.”
Baron’s face was closed off as if he felt nothing. As if what I’d said meant nothing.
“You’re overly emotional,” he said. “You’re not thinking clearly. It’s the pregnancy—hormones, stress. Once you’ve had time to calm down, you’ll see that I’m right.”
“I’ve never been more clear on anything in my life.”
“We’re leaving.” He moved toward the door, gesturing for me to follow. “The plane is waiting. We’ll go to Italy, to the villa. You can rest there, away from all this chaos. Away from him. And when the baby comes, we’ll discuss options.”
“Options?” I didn’t move. “What options?”
“Adoption. A good family. People who can give the child what it deserves.” He spoke as if he were discussing a business arrangement rather than my baby’s future. “You’re not ready to be a mother, Isabel. You know that. Deep down, you know.”
I stared at him and shook my head. The only thing I felt for this man was pity. “I used to think that,” I said quietly. “I used to believe every terrible thing you said about me. That I was spoiled. Selfish. Incapable of doing anything worthwhile. But you know what? I was wrong. And so were you.”
I walked toward him, and for the first time in my life, I saw him take a step back.
“I’m going to be a good mother. Not because of anything you taught me about parenting—but because I know exactly what not to do.
I know how it feels to be invisible to your own father.
I know how it feels to beg for scraps of affection and get nothing.
My child will never feel that way. She will know, every single day of her life, that she is loved. Unconditionally. Without strings.”
I reached the doorway and turned back to face him.
“You have a choice. This is the only time I’m going to make this offer. You can let me walk out of here. Tell your goons to take me back to Whitmore. You can apologize to me for all of it. If you do that, I’ll let you be a part of my life. Our life.”
Baron’s jaw tightened. For a moment—just a moment—I thought I saw something crack behind his eyes. Something human. Something hurt.
Then it was gone.
“We’ll discuss this on the plane, when you’ve had time to—”
“I’m not getting on a plane with you.”
“Isabel.” His voice hardened. “I’m not asking.”
He stepped forward, gripped my arm, and steered me toward the front door. His fingers dug into my flesh—not enough to bruise, but enough to remind me that he was still stronger than me. Still in control.
I didn’t fight him. There was no point. The men who’d brought me here were probably still outside, waiting to make sure I did what I was told.
But as Baron opened the front door and pushed me onto the porch, I realized something had changed.
I wasn’t afraid anymore.
Not of him. Not of what he might do. Not of the future I couldn’t predict.
I’d said everything I needed to say. I’d finally told the truth—to him and to myself. Whatever happened next, I would face it as the woman I’d become. Not the scared little girl who’d spent her life begging for her parents’ love.
That girl was gone.
And then I looked up.
The circular drive that had been empty when I arrived was now full of people—men. They were standing in a loose semicircle around the house.
And in the center of them, his eyes locked on mine, was Kick.
He looked wrecked. Pale. Furious. His hands were clenched at his sides, and even from twenty feet away, I could see the tension vibrating through his body—the barely restrained violence of a man who’d been ready to tear the world apart to find me.
Beside him stood Snapper. And Bas, of all people, his face tight with worry.
There were more. All of Kick’s brothers and friends.
And the hardest part for my father was that his friends were here too.
Men I knew he respected. Them witnessing what he was doing to me would bring him far more shame than I ever had.
His grip on my arm went slack.
His eyes scrunched. “What is this?”
Tryst stepped forward. His expression was calm, but his eyes were hard as flint.
“Baron,” he said. “We need to have a conversation. About the code you swore to uphold and the woman you just tried to take from one of our own.”
I jerked my arm free from my father’s grip and ran toward Kick.