𝗨𝗻𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲

Chapter twenty nine

Noah's POV:

The sting of Isabella's slap still lingers on my cheek, a sharp contrast to the warmth of her touch moments before. I turn my head slowly, trying to process the raw, unexpected force of her response. My pride aches, but beneath that, confusion and hurt swirl in my chest. Why did she react this way? I can't fathom it.

I chase after her, grabbing her wrist gently but firmly. "Rose, wait," I say, my voice a mixture of frustration and desperation. "Tell me why. Please."

She avoids my gaze, looking everywhere but at me. Her silence is maddening.

"Why did you kiss me?" Her question hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions. It hits me like a punch to the gut. Did I make a mistake? Was it too soon?

I try to make sense of it. "Because you're my girlfriend," I say, more question than answer. The words feel hollow, failing to bridge the chasm between us.

She crosses her arms, her posture defiant, her eyes still refusing to meet mine. "That was my first kiss, Noah."

The revelation hits me with the force of a freight train. How could I have missed that? My anger and confusion are momentarily eclipsed by the realization that I might have been thoughtless. I wanted to protect her, not hurt her.

"Don't ever touch me again," she says, her voice trembling. It's like a knife twisting in my heart. I'm paralyzed, unable to respond.

She starts to walk away, and I follow, a silent shadow behind her. I'm utterly lost, my mind racing as I struggle to comprehend her hurt and my own mistakes.

--

Back at the mansion, I find myself in Sebastian's office, staring at the iPad in shock. The video reveals a scene I'd never anticipated—my mother, tied to a chair, her head lowered in despair. My father appears, wielding a belt with a cruel smirk. His actions are brutal and merciless.

The sight of him beating her, raping her, the sound of her screams—it ignites a rage within me like nothing I've ever known. My father's cruel taunts, the violence, the finality of her death—it all feels like a suffocating weight on my chest.

I slam the iPad down, unable to bear the horror any longer. My fist clenches, my knuckles white with fury as I storm towards the cells. I find my father, still tied to his chair, and my rage takes over. My fists find his face, and I pound him mercilessly, fueled by a desire for vengeance and justice.

Sebastian's voice cuts through my fury. "Noah, instead of killing him, make him suffer. Torture him, make him regret his actions." His words resonate, bringing a fleeting calm amidst my rage.

I take a deep breath, looking down at my father's battered form. "I will make you suffer," I growl, the promise of retribution echoing in the empty cell.

I leave the cell, rolling my sleeves as I prepare for what's to come. My mind drifts back to Isabella, the calm amidst my storm. I need to see her, to find solace in her presence.

Arriving at the mansion, I rush inside, desperate to escape the darkness of my thoughts. I find Isabella in the kitchen, wearing one of my shirts, her concern evident as she tends to my injuries.

"What happened to you?" she asks, her voice laced with worry.

Her touch, though clinical, is soothing. I watch as she treats my wounds, her eyes focused and determined. Despite the pain, her care feels like a balm to my shattered emotions.

"I'm fine," I say, though I'm far from it. I turn to leave, my heart heavy.

"Don't you dare touch me again," she commands, her voice firm. I feel a pang of regret as she tends to my injuries, her touch both gentle and distant.

--

Isabella's POV:

Noah's retreating figure is a stark contrast to the chaos inside him. I hear the doorbell ring and find Sebastian waiting outside. His presence is a comfort, though his words are less so.

"What's wrong with Noah?" I demand, gripping his shirt as I search for answers.

He raises his hands in a gesture of defeat. "I can't tell you everything, but it's about his mother's death," he says softly.

My heart aches for Noah. I need to be there for him.

I find Noah in his room, lying on his bed, a storm of emotions brewing within him. I slip beside him, offering comfort despite the tension between us. His head rests on my chest, and I run my fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him.

"Sorry about your mother," I whisper, my voice tender. His grip tightens around me, his body trembling with unspoken pain.

"How did you know?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Sebastian told me," I reply, my fingers continuing their soothing rhythm.

Noah's body relaxes as he listens, his breaths evening out. He's vulnerable in a way I've never seen before, and despite the turmoil within him, he finds solace in my embrace.

"Would you like to talk about it?" I ask, my voice soft and reassuring.

He shakes his head, pressing closer. "That's fine, beautiful," he murmurs.

I continue to comfort him, my heart breaking for the pain he's endured. As he drifts off to sleep, I hold him close, hoping that my presence will bring him some semblance of peace.

In his sleep, Noah's breathing becomes steady, and I remain by his side, offering the comfort and support he needs. As he settles into the embrace of sleep, I promise myself to be his anchor, whatever storms may come.