Chapter 19
“Alpha Rhett, this is what you asked me to investigate.” The Beta stepped forward and laid a thick envelope on the table.
Rhett opened it, eyes darkening as he skimmed the documents. It was a hospital billing record–dated back to when Arabella was three.
Her illness had come on fast, sudden and life–threatening.
And the treatment? It required umbilical cord blood from a matching sibling.
Isla had been brought into this world not out of love, not out of choice–she was born to save Arabella.
Rhett’s grip on the papers tightened, knuckles white. That sick, uneasy suspicion he’d had for so long about Regis and Viviana’s blatant favoritism… it had finally snapped into place.
Beneath the hospital bill was a scratched–up old phone.
He recognized it immediately.
Isla’s.
One of her last phones before she disappeared.
The Beta had tracked down its location through a trace left on her final call, and a
Now, all of it was in Rhett’s hands.
He stared at the lock screen. Four numbers.
He hesitated–then tapped in 0616.
Click.
It unlocked.
His throat tightened.
June 16th–his birthday.
”
ww
nd a tech had managed to recover its data,
གི་ཚད་ད་དང་ས་བ་་་་ང་་བདར་ ད་པ་ད་ད་དང་ང་་་»©eww©?
་དག་་ང་ད་པར་དད་ཏོང་ན་དད་དད་དང་དུ་་དེ་ཚད་ཀོར་དང་གོང་གི་ད་ད་ཆ་ལབ་ན་ལ
क
The homepage was quiet. Most apps were logged out, wiped clean. But a few photos and messages had been left behind, like little breadcrumbs she hadn’t had time to erase.
He opened the photo album.
There were wildflowers on the side of the road. Skies full of clouds, each more uniquely shaped than the last.
And then… him.
Photo after photo of Rhett, from their school days to the months after his accident–when his sight was gone, and the world had abandoned him
But she hadn’t.
She’d been there.
Documenting every version of him, storing every memory he had forgotten.
Even old group pictures from their classroom days–she had kept them all.
His chest ached with a deep, hollow pull.
She had loved him for so long. Quietly. Without fanfare. Without expectation.
”
Not loud or dramatic like Arabella. But steady, unwavering–like the calm surface of a lake, so still you’d think it was empty, but beneath it was depth, devotion, and clarity.
Chapter 19
GoodShort
Bom entretenimento não precisa ser longo fader. cada história
20.00%
He tapped open the message thread.
The person who’d texted Isla the most?
Arabella.
And the things she sent…
Selfies in her wedding gown.
Snaps of her hugging Rhett, lips nearly brushing his cheek.
Every image had a line of biting text beneath it.
[I heard you tried to talk to Rhett again today. Don’t you have any shame? He’s my fiancé now. What exactly are you trying to prove?]
[You don’t get it, do you? It’ll always be me by Rhett’s side–me, not you. Mom and Dad have already made it clear they’re helping me. Just give it up.]
[You were never supposed to exist in the first place. You were born to save me, and that’s it. Everything I want–you’re supposed to hand over. Including Rhett. Unless you’d rather stop being a part of this pack.]
Rhett’s hands were shaking now.
His fury boiled over, filling every inch of him like wildfire.
So this was it.
This was the truth.
Arabella had stolen Isla’s life, piece by piece, while her parents stood by and helped.
It wasn’t just a lie—it was a calculated, premeditated deception that had wrecked years of his and Isla’s lives.
And now, finally, he saw it all.
And he knew exactly what to do.
He ordered the Beta to bring Arabella in–now.
Back at the Grayscale estate, Arabella had locked herself in her room all day. But the moment she heard Rhett wanted to see her, she lit up.
She assumed her parents had worked their magic. Maybe they’d explained things. Maybe Rhett was ready to forgive her.
She changed clothes, did her makeup twice, then finally stepped out, slow and smug
“Drive carefully,” she told the Beta with a flip of her compact mirror. “No sudden stops. I don’t want to smudge my lipstick.”
She had no idea what was coming.
The Beta didn’t argue. He didn’t even respond.
He just glanced at her through the rearview mirror an unreadable look in his eyes.
Not pity.
Not judgment.
More like… indifference. Or maybe anticipation.
Because he knew Rhett. Better than most.
And Arabella? She had no idea what kind of fire she was walking into.
