Wrong Room, Wrong Groom: Now He Won't Let Me Go

Curled up alone on the bed, Isabella wrapped her arms around her knees, a subtle shiver rippling through her body. Under her breath, she scolded herself for ruining something so important and offending the Evans family, with no idea how they would deal with her or Nathalie now. Anxious thoughts kept circling through her mind. She wondered whether Nathaniel had already slept with Nathalie the night before, and she was terrified that if the Evans family took offense, both of them would be sent straight back home. Worry pinched her brows tightly. Huddled there in a shaken little heap, she looked frightened and helpless, while the red marks scattered across her body stood as cruel traces of the night before, enough to make anyone's chest ache. A moment later, Alexander finished his call and stepped back into the bedroom. This whole absurd mess had never been part of his plan either. When his eyes shifted toward the bed, he found Isabella sitting there in a daze, trembling so badly she looked almost sick. Memories of his unchecked intensity from the night before resurfaced. At that thought, he crossed the room in measured strides. "Are you alright? Anywhere hurt?" he asked. At the sound of him so close, Isabella's breath hitched sharply. She gave a quick, instinctive shake of her head, yet her throat felt parched to the point where no words would come. After a brief pause, Alexander studied her pale face before speaking again, his tone settling into a steady calm. "What's done is done. We'll need to deal with what happened properly. I'll speak to my parents about it first and then we'll decide what to do next. Your sister still has to marry into the Evans family. But as for you… If you're unwilling, I can arrange some compensation and have you sent back to your family." Forcing a woman had never been something he would do. Originally, Natalie had been the one meant to marry into the family to comfort his ailing grandmother, and given his age, the arrangement had made practical sense. As for Isabella, she had only accompanied Natalie into the household, an unintended shadow in this marriage arrangement. Had he realized the mix-up from the night before, he would never have crossed that line with her. Before he could finish speaking, however, Isabella's reaction came sharp and immediate. "No… I don't want to go back!" She understood all too well what going back meant—being forced into marriage with an older man she couldn't stand. Desperation crept into her voice as she clutched at this fleeting chance. "Please… I don't want to go back. I'll listen to everything you say. I'll do whatever you need… I… I'll even try to get pregnant as soon as possible… Just... please..." Perched on the edge of the bed, she kept her head bowed, tangled hair falling over her face in messy strands, her thin fingers gripping the blanket. Nothing about her posture resembled a bride facing her future husband. Silence stretched as Alexander lingered on her for a moment. What unsettled him most was the memory of his own lapse—how he had lost control the previous night and kept her awake far too long. Though their bodies had fit together with unsettling ease, the thought only sharpened his concern; she was far too young, far too fragile for the role he required. What he needed was a composed, capable woman who could navigate the complexities of his family, not someone who would crumble under pressure and create more complications. "If you're going to stand beside me as my wife, you'll need the kind of social grace that protects a family's reputation. Your sister manages that well—can you?" Caught off guard, Isabella stiffened. Her timid nature made her voice drop to a barely audible whisper whenever she spoke to others. Deep down, she had longed to be bold and composed like Nathalie, yet childhood memories of harsh punishments for the slightest misstep had carved fear into her bones, leaving her hesitant to utter a word most of the time... Understanding that Nathalie's protection would not last forever, Isabella pushed herself to lift her gaze as she spoke. "Mr. Evans… I can learn. I'll work hard. I'll do whatever it takes..." "And what makes you think I would take the time to teach you?" At Alexander's words, the fragile light in her eyes dimmed, her expression paling as if she had been startled in the glare of sudden headlights. Watching her reaction, he felt an unexpected tug at his chest. He had no intention of being cruel; he was merely stating an undeniable truth. Had Isabella been destined to marry Nathaniel, their mother might have overlooked her shortcomings without much fuss, but becoming his wife was an entirely different matter. The Evans family operated with layered expectations that weren't easy to navigate. Patience wasn't something Alexander was willing to spend on teaching a timid woman how to survive it. "Everything will have to be discussed with my parents at the Evans Estate. I've already arranged for proper clothes to be sent over. If you present yourself like this in front of them, there's no chance you'll be accepted into the family." Despite his firm tone, he hadn't completely shut her out. After all, the night before had crossed a line neither of them had planned, and no one welcomed a situation that messy or unexpected. With that, he turned and walked out. Left alone, Isabella remained seated on the bed, her thoughts drifting in a haze as she tried to grasp whether she still had a chance—if, perhaps, his parents agreed. Clinging to that hope, she pushed herself upright and slipped out of bed. Just as her feet touched the carpet, the door swung open from the outside. A middle-aged woman stepped in. Startled, Isabella instinctively shrank back, heat flooding her face as she became keenly aware of the faint marks scattered across her skin. Then Alexander's earlier words echoed in her mind. Forcing herself to steady, she drew in a shaky breath and pulled the blanket tighter around her body, shielding what she could. "Put..." A broken rasp slipped from her throat as she struggled to raise her voice. "Put it there. I'll get it myself." As soon as the woman withdrew and the door clicked shut, Isabella scrambled for the clothes, only for her shaky legs to buckle and send her crumpling to the floor. Tears burned at her nose, but she bit them back, forced herself up, and dressed as fast as she could. To her surprise, the clothes fit her almost perfectly. Once she had washed her face, she stopped in front of the full-length mirror. Her complexion was still wan and fragile, yet the neatly tailored white dress softened her into a picture of quiet innocence, making her look, at least on the surface, not entirely out of place as Alexander's wife. She tried on a smile at her reflection, but it came out tight and awkward, like something that didn't belong on her face. Just then, a knock landed on the bedroom door, followed by Alexander's flat, unreadable voice from outside. "Are you ready?" Her heart gave a sudden jump. After one last glance at herself in the mirror, Isabella steadied her breathing, pushed down her nerves, and went to open the door. Standing just outside, Alexander was already dressed in a crisp, dark suit, his presence carrying a quiet, chilling authority. His eyes moved over her in a brief, assessing sweep. While the lingering fear in her gaze hadn't disappeared, he noted that she at least looked presentable now, her posture no longer entirely collapsed. "Let's go." Isabella's steps wavered, her legs still weak, yet she gathered her strength to keep pace, quietly following behind him. ... At the Evans Estate, Isabella trailed after Alexander. The moment she stepped inside, she saw that her sister had already arrived. Natalie sat beside a young man who looked so much like Alexander they could only be brothers. As Isabella turned toward her, Natalie met her gaze at once, her eyes brimming with worry. Nathaniel's eyes dropped immediately to the faint love marks peeking out beneath Isabella's collar. A sharp laugh broke from him without warning, cutting through the stillness in the room, yet he looked perfectly at ease. "So, Alex, did you bring her back for me?" he drawled. Crossing the room, Nathaniel gave Isabella a slow, appraising look before leaning in closer to Alexander. Handsome as he was, Isabella instinctively felt there was something mean and rotten in him, a vicious streak that made her skin crawl. "Hey, if you don't want the younger one, then why not hand both sisters over to me?" With a sharp, frosty look sweeping across the room, Alexander silenced Nathaniel for a brief moment. Then the younger brother let out a careless scoff. "Forget it. Keep her. I don't want a woman you've already had sex with anyway." From where he sat, Jude Evans watched his wayward son, Nathaniel, with piercing eyes, and then struck his cane against the floor with a heavy crack. "Keep talking, and I'll snap your leg." Once everyone had taken their seats, Pamela Evans—Alexander and Nathaniel's mother—finally spoke in a measured voice. "Tell me exactly what happened yesterday." Her cool, penetrating gaze moved over Natalie and then settled on Isabella. Natalie parted her lips, ready to respond, but one warning look from Pamela stopped her cold. "Isabella, you tell us," Pamela said calmly. At once, Isabella rose to her feet, swallowing against the tightness in her throat as she tried to keep her voice from shaking. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Evans. Yesterday, I read the license plate wrong, so I got into the wrong car." The moment the words fell from her mouth, the room went utterly still. Pamela's sharp, measuring eyes lingered on Isabella's pale features. Timid as Isabella looked, she had at least told the truth without trying to push the blame onto anyone else. "You read it wrong?" Pamela's voice stayed even, yet the quiet weight behind it pressed down on the entire room. "Something this important happened, and you expect to dismiss it as a simple mistake?"