Chapter 222
Henry Jackson stood frozen in the middle of Isabella Voss’s guest bedroom, his world still reeling from the bombshell she’d just dropped. The air was thick with the scent of lavender, meant to calm, but it did nothing to soothe the storm raging inside him. His hands trembled as he reached for his phone on the nightstand—the device that had been his lifeline, now silent and powered off for nearly five days. He’d shut it down in a haze of fever and heartbreak, desperate to escape the notifications, the calls, the reminders of Eliana Bennett slipping further from his grasp. But now, with Isabella’s words echoing in his ears—”She’s already married”—he couldn’t hide anymore.
With a deep, unsteady breath, Henry pressed the power button. The phone’s cracked screen sputtered awake, its fractured light cutting across his face. Then the notifications poured in—missed calls, unread messages—each one hitting him like a blow. His warm eyes, the ones that were always calm even in chaos, slowly widened as he scrolled through the avalanche.
Dozens from his father. A few from friends at school. And Eliana… Eliana, whose name appeared over and over again, like a heartbeat trying to reach him.
His thumb froze above her contact. The air felt heavier, as if the room itself was holding its breath with him. His chest tightened, a hard, rhythmic pounding echoing in his ears—fear, hope, guilt, all tangled together.
He swallowed, thumb trembling just slightly before he pressed the call button. The dial tone rang out, sharp and merciless. Henry lifted the phone to his ear and shut his eyes, silently begging—for her voice, for a chance to make everything right again, for anything that wasn’t this awful silence stretching between them.
It rang once, twice… then straight to voicemail. “This is Eliana. Leave a message, and I’ll get back to you soon!” Her cheerful tone, so full of that hopeful smile he adored, twisted the knife deeper.
“No,” Henry muttered under his breath, his sharp features contorting in frustration. He zipped his bag shut with a forceful tug, slinging it over his shoulder. Turning to Isabella, who stood there with her elegant poise cracking just a fraction, he leaned in and pressed a quick, grateful kiss to her cheek. Her skin was soft, warm, carrying a faint hint of her floral perfume—a reminder of the kindness she’d shown him during his lowest point.
“Isabella, I… I have to go,” he said, his voice raw and urgent, laced with the ambition that had always driven him forward but now fueled by desperation. “I need to see Eliana. Confirm this myself. It can’t be true. She wouldn’t… not without telling me p>
Isabella nodded slowly, her fair skin flushed with concern under the golden evening light filtering through the windows. She didn’t argue; she could see the fire in his eyes, the unyielding love that had kept him pining for Eliana through college and beyond. “Henry, be careful,” she whispered, but he was already moving.
He bolted from the guest room, his tall frame navigating the hallway with the precision of an aspiring doctor used to high-stakes decisions. His footsteps echoed on the polished hardwood floors, a frantic rhythm that matched his racing heart. He reached the main door, yanking it open, the cool London air hitting him like a slap—crisp, carrying the distant hum of city traffic and the faint rustle of leaves from the park below.
Isabella didn’t hesitate. She grabbed her car keys from the marble console table by the entrance, the jingle cutting through the tension. Her silk blouse whispered against her skin as she hurried after him, her tailored trousers swishing with each determined step. “Henry, wait!” she called, her voice steady but infused with the empathy of someone who’d rebuilt her life from the ashes of betrayal. “You’re not driving in this state. Let me take you. Wherever you need to go—your house, Eliana’s, anywhere. I’m worried about you. Once I know you’re okay, I’ll leave. Promise p>
Henry paused on the threshold, his handsome face etched with gratitude amid the panic. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, his warm eyes meeting hers. “Thank you, Isabella. Really. I don’t know what I’d do without you right now.” He didn’t stop her; in truth, he was glad for the company, the anchor in his storm.
They descended the stairs of her upscale apartment building together, the elevator ride silent but charged. Outside, Isabella’s sleek black sedan waited in the underground parking, its engine purring to life with a soft roar as she unlocked it. Henry slid into the passenger seat, his bag clutched tightly in his lap like a shield. Isabella gripped the wheel, her fingers elegant and manicured, and pulled out onto the northern outskirts of London, the city lights beginning to twinkle as dusk settled.
The drive to Henry’s house was a blur of winding roads and Henry’s fragmented thoughts. He stared out the window, watching the serene park give way to bustling streets, his mind replaying every moment with Eliana—the quiet glances, the hidden love he’d buried because she wasn’t ready to be in a new relationship after her breakup with Rafael, the joy of those five months living together with her and her father in their beautiful three-story home. It had been a haven, filled with laughter, shared meals, and the promise of a future he dared not voice.
“Isabella,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence, his voice thick with emotion. “Do you think… do you think she really went through with it? Married that recluse? Rafael Vexley—he’s got secrets, I can feel it. She’s too kind, too trusting. What if he’s using her p>
Isabella glanced at him, her expression a mix of sympathy and resolve, born from her own nightmarish discovery of Logan’s cheating and murder plot. “That’s what it says on the news, but, I don’t know, Henry. But love makes us blind sometimes. I learned that the hard way. Just… don’t lose yourself trying to save her p>
They arrived at his house sooner than he wanted—their stunning three-story Victorian in a quiet, affluent neighborhood, its facade painted in soft creams with ivy climbing the walls, windows glowing warmly like beacons of the happiness they’d once shared. Henry bolted from the car before Isabella could fully park, his keys already in hand. “Wait here,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll be right back p>
Isabella nodded, turning off the engine and leaning back in her seat, her heart aching for him. She watched as he fumbled with the lock, the door swinging open to reveal the familiar entryway.
To be continued p>