Divorced: I Married My Enemy

Chapter 4

Isabella's POV

“Isabella, you don't have to cry because of this; trust me, I'm going to fight for you,” Casey assured me, but I didn't want that, but I also didn't know how I was going to tell her Daniel wasn't responding for the baby.

“Isabella, I,” she was saying when her phone started ringing.

She immediately took up her phone and placed it on her ears. “No, no, he can't do that,” I heard her say, with a pale face as she shook her head.

"Casey, what's wrong? What happened?” I asked her, seeing tears flowing down her cheeks now.

She finally dropped her phone after a while and turned to me as more tears flowed down her cheeks.

“Casey Please say something,” I said, grabbing hold of her both hands, hoping she would just tell me what was wrong.

“Grandma, just called me,” she managed to say as more tears flowed down her cheeks.

“Did anything happen to Grandpa? Please say something." I spoke, tightening my hands around hers.

"Grandpa has a panic attack because Daniel threw them out of the house,” she explained, making me gasp.

“Oh no, this can't be happening,” I blurted out, letting go of her hands as hot tears clouded my eyes as she continued.

“Grandpa was taken to the hospital, but the doctor asked that we make half payment before he will be treated; please do something, Isabella,” she said.

“Please call Daniel and tell him about your baby; maybe he would reconsider us,” she pleaded, and that made my tears increase.

How was I ever going to tell her this baby doesn't belong to Daniel? This question rang in my head as more tears flowed down my cheeks.

I got up on my feet, with my swollen eyes. “Isabella,” Casey called to me, but I didn't bother to respond to her.

“Did you hear all that I just said?” She asked me while I took a few steps.

“Yes, I heard you; I need time to figure out what to do,” I responded to her as I made my way to the door of the ward.

“I will be in here waiting for you, Isabella, but please don't take too long; I can't bear to lose Grandpa," Casey said, while I nodded, as I made my way out of the door.

I was in the hallway when tears clouded my eyes again as I stared at the pregnancy test results the doctor had given to me earlier.

Just then, I hit someone, and the test results flew from my hand.

“I'm sorry, miss, here,” I heard a familiar voice, and looked up only to see my worst nightmare.

Alexander Sterling, and his eyes were fixed on the test results, which were in his hands and stretched to me now.

I stood frozen in the hallway, my heart hammering against my ribs like a caged bird.

“It's you,” he said softly, as a smile curved at the corner of his lips almost immediately.

"No," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what you are saying; I don't think we have met before.” I said, blinking my lashes rapidly.

Alexander's eyes narrowed, with a cold, calculating gaze. He took a step closer, and I instinctively backed away until my shoulders hit the wall.

"Don't play games with me; you are Isabella, the girl from the club, and you are also pregnant," he spoke with a calm but firm voice.

"No, you're mistaken; I have never met you before," I tried to deny it.

He placed his hands on the wall behind me as he spoke further. “You are carrying my baby from that night,” he said, but I immediately shook my head.

“Like I said before, you got the wrong girl,” I said, and moved away from him and tried to walk away, but he grabbed hold of my hand.

"Then he explained this." He showed off my locket, making me widen my eyes in disbelief.

I had been searching for it all this while, unaware that I had left it in the club that night.

“Please give it back,” I told him, stretching my hands to him.

That locket was the last gift my father gave to me before he died, and I have never taken it off since until that night three weeks ago that I lost it in that club.

“If you want it, you have to answer all my questions first," he said.

“Okay, fine, I will; just give it back to me,” I said, while he just smiled.

“Come with me,” he said, and with that he started walking away, while I followed behind him.

I stopped walking seeing that we were already on the second floor in the hospital. “Where are we going?” This question rang out of my mouth while I fixed my gaze at him.

"Somewhere we can talk privately," he responded to me.

“And what if I don't want to go?” I asked him; he didn't bother to respond to me. Rather, he reached out and took my arm, his grip firm but not painful.

We finally stopped at the hospital cafeteria. Alexander released my arm and had his seat and also gestured to the chair opposite his. "Sit." He said, more like a command.

But I remained standing and crossed my arms over my chest. "I will rather stand," I told him, while he chuckled.

“Whatever,” he sighed.

“So what did you bring me here for?” I asked him while he cleared his throat before responding.

“I brought you here for us to talk about our baby,” he stated, with a soft and low voice.

“There is nothing for us to talk about, baby; I will make this clear to you." I paused to catch my breath before I continued.

“I don't want to have anything to do with you, and I'm going to raise my baby alone. You have no claim on me or this child.” I blurted out, while his smile deepened.

He stood up from where he was seat, and walked towards me. He was so close that I could smell his cologne, the same scent that had haunted me for weeks.

"Anyway, why were you crying earlier?” He asked me. I, part of me, wanted to ask for his help, but I recalled who he was, and I hesitated.

“It's none of your business,” I managed to say.

“You really are a stubborn one, but I have to care about you since you are carrying my baby." He paused for a while before he continued.

“Tell me what's wrong; I promise to help you,” he stated, making me swallow hard, hearing him say that.

“You will help me?” I asked him to be sure I had heard him correctly.

“Yes, I will,” he responded to me.

“Okay, but why?” This question rang out of my mouth before I could stop it.

“Firstly because you are carrying my baby, and second because there is also a condition attached,” he responded to me.

“A condition?” I asked him, and he nodded in response. “What condition?” I asked further, with my gaze fixed on him.

“You are going to be my contract wife for two years,” he said with a soft and low voice, making me widen my eyes in disbelief.

How was I supposed to be a wife to a man whose family ruined my father and get him killed, but again I need his help to save the family I had left? What do I do now? This question rang in my head as I stared at him.