Chapter 218: She is sick
Maria-Isabel’s voice had thinned to a whisper, barely audible over the low hum of the flickering ceiling light.
"I begged him, Ethan," she said, trembling. "I got on my knees and begged him to let me call for help. I told him—promised him—I’d sign my trust fund over. Every cent. I would disappear, give him everything if he just... let me go."
She paused, breathing like someone who’d been underwater too long.
"But he said no. He said he didn’t need my money—he needed control. He said he was going to take Isabella from me. That I didn’t deserve her. That I was broken. Just like my mother."
Her eyes were wide, rimmed with red. Haunted.
"I tried to stop him. To reason with him. And that’s when he hit me."
Ethan stiffened, fists clenched on the table, his entire body holding back rage.
"I... I gave in," she continued, voice almost childlike. "I agreed to whatever he wanted. Just to keep him calm. Just so he wouldn’t touch her again. He dragged the body, wrapped it in a blanket. Hid it in the fridge. Like it was nothing."
She pressed her hand to her mouth, as if trying to hold back the memory.
"Then he came back. I was giving Isabella her medicine—she was sick that day, burning up—and he thought I was calling the police. He lost it. Threw the phone. Punched a hole in the wall."
Her breath caught, shoulders shaking now.