Chapter 1
"Is the show over?" “Tell me, did you drug me last night?” “No... no...” Isabella Barrett felt as if George Mallory was about to snap her neck, the words barely escaping her throat amid the pressure. “Woman, you’re testing my patience.” Edward Stark's grip on her throat tightened incrementally, and Isabella struggled against his hold, clawing at his hand in a desperate attempt to breathe. It was as if he was immune to pain, his cold eyes reflecting nothing but lethal intent. “Beep, beep—” Just when Isabella thought she was about to die at George’s hands, the sound of a key card swiping at the door cut through the tension. Edward Stark’s expression shifted to one of wary calculation as he stepped off the bed and pulled on a bathrobe, striding confidently towards the bedroom door. His movements were fluid, practiced. Finally able to breathe, Isabella collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for air, her mind racing. Last night came back to her—a drink handed over by Thomas Barrett, which had quickly whisked her into unconsciousness. How had she wound up here, tangled with George? Edward emerged from the bedroom to see a group of people holding phones, snapping pictures of the scattered clothing on the floor. George’s lips curled slightly in amusement, observing these fools with regal disdain. “Sorry to intrude, Edward Stark,” Thomas Barrett said, stepping forward with a sheepish grin, clearly enjoying the chaos. Peering over his shoulder into the mess of the bedroom, he was visibly pleased. “Is that you?” George's dark eyes fixed on him, a frigid glint betraying a threatening calm. Thomas chuckled nervously, blind to the danger before him. “Don’t take it the wrong way, Edward. My sister may not be a high-society darling, but she's a good girl—clean and wholesome. And look at you, clearly, you had quite the night.” “…” Edward couldn’t refute that. “Listen, you and my sister—you’re both young and good-looking. If you don’t mind, I’d say she could end up being yours.” If Isabella could just keep this powerful man happy, it wouldn’t just cover their parents' debts; their future would be set for generations. Edward Stark didn’t even bother to acknowledge Thomas’s misguided ambition. Instead, he focused on the task at hand, his voice cold. “Is the woman in there your sister?” “Yes, yes! That’s right! Her name is Isabella Barrett, and I’m Thomas Barrett—siblings, the real deal,” Thomas exclaimed, practically beaming. At the mention of his name, Isabella burst from the bedroom, grabbing Thomas by the shirt. “You switched something in that drink, didn’t you?” “Little trophy, I was just trying to help you out,” he said with an unapologetic smile. “If I hadn’t played wingman, do you really think you’d have a shot with a big shot like Edward Stark?” “How could you...” Isabella’s bright eyes narrowed, filled with disbelief, her complexion pale as humiliation washed over her. Coughing nervously, Thomas shrugged her grip off. “I’m not asking for much. You’ve already slept together—if you can end up married, great! Otherwise, I’d be happy with a little something else on the side.” Isabella couldn’t wrap her head around how her own brother could speak like this. Her shame turned to rage as she shouted, “Get out! Just leave me alone!” She shoved him towards the door, her emotions swirling. “Come on, enough of the innocent act! Do you really think sleeping with someone puts you in the position of the queen? Get real.” He pushed her roughly, sending her stumbling backwards. She lost her footing, crashing to the floor, the edge of a sharp coffee table jabbing into her back. Pain shot through her, tears spilling from her eyes. “Thomas, how is this any different from selling out your sister?” The anguish was evident on Isabella’s face as she looked at the indifferent man before her. “Or what? Letting people take you for free?” Thomas replied, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “Y-you...” “Is the show over?” George’s voice cut through the escalating drama, his ice-cold demeanor finally breaking his silence.
Chapter 2
You’ve got to be kidding me! “Edward Stark, please don’t take this the wrong way. It’s just how women can be; a little vanity never hurt anyone.” Thomas Barrett plastered on a charming smile as he faced Edward Stark. Edward Stark scoffed, pulling out his checkbook with a flourish. He scribbled down an amount before tearing off the check and tossing it at Thomas like it was yesterday's trash. “Get lost!” Thomas scrambled to catch the check, his hands shaking with excitement as he counted the figures. His eyes lit up like fireworks when he reached the millions. “I hit the jackpot, I hit the jackpot…” He kissed the check and waved goodbye while hustling out the door, a triumphant grin plastered across his face. Isabella Barrett sat on the floor, feeling as if her soul had been crushed. Tears streamed down her cheeks, unstoppable. Edward Stark looked down at her, a cold fury simmering in his eyes. He pulled her up from the ground. “You’ve got what you wanted. Why are you still here, playing the victim?” Isabella looked up at him, her heart heavy with despair. “Why did you give him money? Why?!” “What else are you expecting?” Edward’s cold laughter echoed in the air. “Do you think you deserve anything more?” He discarded her like trash once more and strode toward the bedroom. “Find out everything about a guy named Thomas Barrett. Make sure he’s got no footing in Ravensbury.” ... One and a half months later. “You’re pregnant. About six weeks along.” “If you don’t plan to keep it, you need to schedule a procedure soon. The earlier it’s done, the less risk involved.” Isabella Barrett sat on a flower bed outside the hospital, her mind swirling with the doctor’s words. The sun shone brightly, but she felt an abyss of cold wash over her—an icy grip that dug deep into her chest. Two months ago, her life shattered when her father’s company collapsed, dragging the family down with it. With debts piling up, both her parents chose the grave over facing them. A month and a half prior, Thomas had promised to take her to meet a friend of her father’s for help. What she didn’t expect was a trap laid out just for her. Since Thomas left that night with the money, he’d disappeared without a trace. Then, shortly after, she received the call that her grandmother had collapsed. She rushed to the hospital, spending three endless days there, holding vigil until her grandmother pulled through. But now, life decided to throw her yet another curveball. With the debt situation still unresolved and no income to speak of, Isabella felt cornered. Keeping the baby was not an option—not with Thomas knowing he had a claim to this child. That man would not hesitate to use it to bleed her dry. She wouldn't allow her child to be a tool for a man like him or an anchor that would weigh her down for life. That evening, Isabella returned to her shabby apartment, her heart a tangled mess. Walking in, she saw her grandmother bustling around the kitchen, and a flicker of warmth broke through the chill. “Is that you, Jinsong?” her grandmother called out, recognizing her. Margaret Barrett lifted the lid of a pot, revealing bubbling braised pork with chestnuts—Isabella’s favorite dish. But at the sight of the oily meat, her stomach churned. She turned away, clasping a hand over her mouth. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?” Margaret’s voice was full of concern. Isabella fought back the nausea. “I’m fine; just a little under the weather. My stomach’s been acting up.” If it weren’t for the constant queasiness, she might not have thought to visit the doctor. “Do you need to go to the ER?” Margaret pressed. “No, it’s just a slight chill. I’ll grab a jacket.” Isabella headed to her room. At that moment, Thomas Barrett emerged from the bathroom. “Grandma, you just got out of the hospital, why are we talking about going back?” “It’s not me, it’s Jinsong. She’s been feeling nauseous; says it’s from catching a chill,” Margaret explained. “Nauseous?” Thomas paused, his eyes flickering with interest. “I’ll go check on her.”
Chapter 3
“Who the hell are you?” Thomas Barrett stepped into Isabella's bedroom just as she was coming out. Their eyes met, and surprise flashed across Isabella's face. After being gone for over a month, she had never expected to see him again. “What are you doing here? Who let you in? Get out—now!” She shoved him toward the door, every bit of her voice laced with fury. Instead of leaving, Thomas grabbed her arm and yanked her back into the room, slamming the door behind them. “What do you think you’re doing?” Isabella demanded, her posture tightening with suspicion. “Just answer me this: Are you pregnant?” The tension in Thomas’s voice was palpable, his gaze fixed on her with anxious anticipation. Isabella’s expression fell. Panic washed over her. How could he possibly know about her pregnancy? She took a deep breath to regain her composure, her heart racing. “What, did you run out of blackmail money already? Now you're delusional?” His face darkened, but disbelief lingered in his eyes as he studied her. “Then why the hell are you throwing up? When’s the last time you had your period?” “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I had my period just last week. So you can ditch your little fantasy right there.” Isabella was adamant; she couldn’t let Thomas discover her pregnancy. He had betrayed her once before, and there was no way she would allow him to manipulate this child. Thomas stared at her, doubt creeping into his expression. “Is that really true?” “Believe what you want.” She shoved past him, reaching for the door. With her back to him, his mood shifted, darkening like a storm cloud. “I’m here to tell you something important. Mom and Dad left a will, and you’re the heir to the company. The lawyer said that means you’re responsible for any debts.” “What do you mean by that?” Isabella turned to him, confusion mingling with dread. “Simply put: every dime the company owes falls on you, and I’m not taking a dime of it.” With that, he yanked the door open and stepped out, leaving her stunned. Isabella had seen this coming. Thomas had an uncanny knack for screwing things up. The very next day, she made an appointment at the hospital. It was time to take control of her fate. The date was set for three days later. On the day of the procedure, Isabella and her friend Eliza arrived at the hospital early. The two inexperienced young women were lost in a sea of unfamiliarity, but they managed to navigate the necessary paperwork with the nurses’ help. “3rd patient, Isabella Barrett,” a nurse called out. A chill ran through Isabella's body, and her hands began to tremble. “Hey, don’t panic. The doctor said it’s a minor operation; it’ll be over before you know it.” Eliza offered a reassuring smile, though her own anxiety was evident. Isabella’s complexion paled. “Eliza, if something happens to me, promise you’ll take care of Grandma.” “Ugh, don’t say that! I can barely take care of myself, let alone anyone else. If you don’t pull through, who’ll look after Grandma?” Isabella nodded, recognizing the teasing tone in her friend's voice. “3rd patient, 3rd patient, let’s keep it moving!” the nurse urged. With a reluctant breath, Isabella handed her jacket to Eliza and shuffled toward the surgery room. At the door, she paused, the weight of fear pressing down on her chest. Saying she wasn’t scared felt like a lie. She was just a twenty-year-old girl who had been thriving just a couple of months ago, surrounded by love and laughter. Now, she found herself orphaned, betrayed by family, and about to face an uncertain future in this sterile room. Though it seemed like all of this turmoil hadn’t broken her, deep inside, she was barely holding it together. Eliza watched as tears threatened to spill from Isabella's eyes, her own eyes misting over as she lifted her arm in a cheerleader’s gesture. “You got this!” Isabella managed a tearful smile before stepping into the surgery room. Inside, the stark white walls and a small cot waiting for her sent fear spiraling within her. “Lie back and remove your pants, then place your feet on these,” the doctor instructed, utterly indifferent. Shaking, Isabella lay down but fumbled with her pants, her hands betraying her with a loss of coordination. Suddenly, the door burst open with a crash, and a few men in black suits stormed in.
Chapter 4
Goodbye to George “What… who are you people?” The doctor stammered, visibly shaken. The man in black shoved the doctor forward, a threatening glare backing his words. “Where’s Isabella Barrett?” “Sh-she’s right there.” The doctor pointed at the bed where Isabella lay, confused and disoriented. “Has the surgery been done?” The man pushed, his tone sharp. “W-we were just about to start.” “Stop the surgery immediately. Anyone who tries to operate on her is asking for trouble. Get out!” The doctor and nurses scrambled out of the operating room, fear etched on their faces. Isabella Barrett had just sat up, bewildered at what was happening. “What’s going on?” she managed to stammer. “Get her out,” commanded the man. Two more men in black moved in, seizing Isabella before she could react. “Who are you? What do you want?” Panic gnawed at her heart. “You’ll find out soon enough.” The man waved his hand, and the thugs dragged Isabella out. “Let me go! What are you doing?” She fought against their hold, but it was useless. … They brought her to a sleek, black car, where a familiar figure sat in the back—George. Isabella froze, dread pooling in her stomach. Even in the dim light, she recognized his striking features, the coldness in his eyes bringing back memories of past encounters she would rather forget. Why… why was he here? Her hands clenched the hem of her shirt, anxiety spilling through her veins as she wondered about his intentions. “Are you going to just stand there or are you waiting for me to invite you in?” George’s voice cut like ice. “Where are you taking me?” “To the place you’ve always dreamed of.” “…” Isabella’s mind whirled with confusion and fear, but the situation didn’t leave room for a refusal. With reluctance, she got into the car and settled into the seat next to George. As the door slammed shut, the pressure in the car felt suffocating. She cracked the window slightly, seeking a bit of relief from the oppressive air. Silence cloaked them, heavy and thick, until the car came to a halt in front of an extravagant villa nestled in Willowbrook. Nicholas Porter, impeccably dressed and ever polite, opened the door for her. Isabella hesitated momentarily before stepping out. George strode away, his purposeful gait drawing her to follow him through the well-manicured yard into the opulent house. Just when her mind was flooded with questions, another figure stepped forward to shatter her uncertainty. In the grand living room, Thomas Barrett reclined on a lavish couch, sporting a flowery shirt and a gaudy chain that clashed with the elegance around him. Isabella couldn’t help but wonder how he had suddenly shifted from being overly paranoid about her alleged pregnancy to this moment of apparent ease. But the truth became evident—he was watching her closely, waiting for the right moment to act. “What the hell are you doing just standing there? Go on, call someone!” Thomas Barrett urged, pulling her closer. “Let me introduce you to Eleanor Stark and her daughter, Alice Stark.” On the other side of the room, two elderly women sat, one resplendent in jewels and the other appearing similar in age yet starkly different in stature. Isabella's heart sank as she realized she was about to be thrust into the storm that lingered on the horizon. “Come on, sweet girl, don’t just stand there; join your grandmother!” Margaret Barrett, Thomas’s mother, beckoned her with a bright smile, patting the seat beside her. Gingerly, Isabella approached, her instincts screaming at her to flee yet ultimately deciding that she’d better take her seat among them. As soon as she sat, Margaret Barrett scrutinized her, her gaze lingering on Isabella’s flat stomach, and excitement flickered in her eyes at the thought of potential grandchildren. “You’ve got nice features, and those eyes have a lovely sparkle to them, but we need to get some meat on your bones. You’ll need to be fit for the family,” Margaret said, her smile disarming. Isabella’s tense heart gradually eased under the warmth of Margaret’s presence. “Don’t be nervous; we’re all family here,” Margaret reassured, clasping Isabella’s hands. “Your brother filled us in on everything. Don’t worry about the little debt your family has; it’s nothing to Starkwood Holdings. You’ll be just fine.” “From now on, focus on taking care of yourself and your baby. Your grandmother expects a bouncing boy or a sweet girl. Either way, you’ll have a hefty reward waiting when the time comes.” Isabella barely processed Margaret’s moving words, her mind fixating on the phrase “your family’s little debt.” With urgency, she turned to Thomas. “What did you say?” He chuckled nervously. “Oh, it’s not a big deal—” “Oh, it’s not a big deal?” Alice Stark interjected, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Just a lowly request for a cool billion, that’s all.”
Chapter 5
Isabella Barrett’s heart sank. She had anticipated this outcome, but hearing it spoken aloud felt like a punch to the gut. “You think a hundred million means anything? Are my family’s bloodlines worth just that?” Margaret Barrett chided, her brow furrowed with disappointment. “Grandma, you need to open your eyes. Women like her, trying to trap men into marriage—they're a dime a dozen. Who's to say that kid is even my brother’s?” Alice Stark shot a scathing glare at Isabella. To Alice, this woman was nothing but a pretty face. With no real status, no connections, she was unworthy of her perfect brother—who had it all: looks, wealth, and prestige. Isabella was drowning in humiliation, desperate to escape this suffocating room. “I’m sorry, but Thomas Barrett and I are no longer siblings. His words reflect only his personal opinions. Also…” She paused to look directly at Alice. “Miss Stark, you needn't worry about anything, because this child is not meant to come into this world.” Alice was left speechless, her mouth agape. “Now, now, sweetheart, Alice is still young and doesn’t understand,” Margaret hurriedly said, standing up. “You can’t hold it against her. Grandma trusts you.” “Thank you for your trust, Margaret, but my decision stands firm,” Isabella replied, her tone cool and resolute. “Don’t you dare speak like that!” Thomas Barrett exploded, his frustration evident as his hair bristled. “Let me tell you, being able to carry on the family name is a privilege you should be grateful for. Don’t be ungrateful.” “Enough, Thomas Barrett!” Isabella shot back, her fury igniting as she refused to let him manipulate her any longer. The tension in the room crackled like static electricity. “Since when does the life of my child become something for you to decide?” said George Mallory, who had remained silent until now. He rose, his presence immediately casting a heavy gloom over the room. Some people just carried themselves with an innate authority that made others shrink back. Meeting George Mallory’s icy, commanding gaze, Isabella somehow found the bravery to declare, “That child is in my womb, and I alone have the right to decide its fate.” Would he really think he could force her to carry this pregnancy to term? Edward Stark’s expression darkened, his displeasure palpable. Sensing the escalating tension, Thomas quickly dragged Isabella into a side room, lowering his voice to a near hiss, “You’re delusional. Take a good look; this is a court summons. If you don’t pay up in three days, you’re going to jail. The family is willing to help you, and you should be grateful.” “I’d rather face prison,” she retorted, clinging to a shred of dignity. Thomas grit his teeth, his anger barely contained. “You want to go to jail? Fine, but you better drag that old corpse of a grandmother along with you, or I’m not sure how she’d end up.” “Thomas Barrett, you’re heartless!” Isabella trembled with rage. He struck her where it hurt most. “Choose: you either let your grandmother suffer for your foolishness or you accept a comfortable life as a Mrs. Barrett.” That was the crux of it. With their parents constantly away, their grandmother had raised them, and given her fragile health, the idea of losing her was unbearable. Isabella knew she couldn't let that happen. Returning to the living room, she took a breath, steadying herself. “I will have this baby, but I have one condition.” “Speak.” Edward Stark’s smirk dripped with skepticism. He thought this sibling drama would yield some grand climax, but he appeared to underestimate their resolve. “I need you to help me settle our family’s debts and reclaim the house that’s slated for auction.” “That’s doable.” “What’s more, that money has to go straight into my personal account, and…” She nearly blurted out that the sum would be a loan to her but reconsidered. Best not to overpromise on a hefty amount. “For now, that’s it.” “Wait, what do you mean?” Thomas spluttered, stunned. After all his efforts, he was left empty-handed? “Just what it sounds like. Wake up and smell the reality.” Isabella’s eyes were steel cold. Even if she was out of options, she wouldn’t let Thomas have the last word or pull her strings. …… By that afternoon, Isabella received the bank notification: a hundred million had been deposited into her account. With Edward Stark by her side, she went to sort out her family’s debts. Due to the complexity of the issues at hand, they worked well into closing time at the bank. They hadn’t reclaimed the house just yet; legal processes would take time. By six o'clock, Isabella returned to Eldoria Manor, only to find Edward and George in a heated argument as soon as she stepped through the door. “I will not sign anything to that woman!”
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