Doubts - Regretful ex-Fiancé

Chapter 9 | ✓

-Jonathan's POV-

Some words should never be spoken. I realized it was wrong to call Isabella that name. I knew it. That's why I chose it. I was in a mood to hurt someone that day. I wanted to say something even worse, but I decided to go straight for the heart. I used the one thing I knew would make her feel ashamed. I am a complete jerk. I am ashamed of myself. 

The way she looked at me when I said that...She shared part of her story with me. At first, she didn't want to date me because she thought it wouldn't work due to her past. And what did I do in the end? I tried to belittle her, breaking every promise I made. I am truly a terrible person.

I grew up to be an arrogant son of a bitch. With lawyer parents and a trust fund, I was a typical Harvard kid. I had it all: looks, wealth, and smarts. My brothers and I started our first restaurant, and it quickly became a hit. We offered great food and had a classy vibe.

I met my love when she was delivering supplies for my restaurant. Her smile and warmth caught my attention right away. She turned down my invites five times, and I thought she didn't realize I was in charge. But she knew exactly who I was and simply wasn't interested. That made me even more intrigued.

Eventually, I persuaded her to go out with me, and our dinner was amazing. I wanted to be intimate that night, but she made me wait eight months... damn... what a hell of a time was it. It was worth it, though; our first time together is a memory I'll never forget. For the next two years, I was lucky to have her by my side.

Until I messed up royally.

My father taught me that you can't be gentle in business. As the owner of twenty-three restaurants, I've learned to make people uncomfortable and keep them on edge. I know everyone's weak points. If someone tried to steal from me, it would be the end for them. I would take them down without hesitation, no emotions involved. 

But for Isabella, I chose to act differently. I won't destroy her or make her lose her job. I won't kick her out or treat her badly. Since I'm not one to shout, I picked a name that would get the message across. And it worked, didn't it? Now, I'm a messed-up guy without a fiancée. She avoids me and doesn't want to talk. She hardly even looks my way now.

I feel like using all the damn profanities I know. Goddamn it! My situation is just too much to handle. Damn it! What have I done to my Isabella? How can I fix this? I treated her like she was nothing. She was the one I shared my life with! She took care of everything for me. I wanted a housekeeper a couple of times a week, but Isabella loved doing things around the house herself.

I can't believe I reacted that way. When I saw the photos, a little voice in my head took over, and I lost it. I went home to end our two years together, thinking she didn't matter to me anymore. I left feeling sick and empty because of her betrayal. But even worse was the memory of her hurt face, like I had slapped her. She started crying, and I just wanted to get out of there.

Now, I wish I had thought more about those pictures. I wish I had set my pride aside for a moment. I humiliated my fiancée and ruined our relationship. I really messed up this time... what the hell! My usual business sense didn't help me when I needed it most. My fiancée hates me now.

I moved next to her four months ago, and since then, she's been ignoring me and using Mr. Ruth to keep me away. I'm in deep trouble. She won't accept anything the lawyer offered. How can she forgive me if she won't even consider it?

My two brothers are here with me at the restaurant, watching over me. Like that will change anything. The staff is replacing another door because I punched it again, leaving it full of holes. My assistant nearly fainted from shock, and the employees avoided me like I was contagious. I have bloody hands, but I don't care. My brothers are looking at me like I've lost my mind. They probably want to stage an intervention.

I was ready for a fight anyway. They can try to stop me if they want. I would take them down too. I almost killed Samuel when I found out what he did to Isabella. I trusted him to look after her, and I was furious to learn he touched her and denied her the things I promised. That jerk lied and suggested I was with someone in my office when I was just drinking whiskey, stuffing my face with the thing. If Aiden hadn't stepped in that day, who knows what would have happened? Samuel might be dead by now.

I haven't spoken to him since that day at Isabella's. That jerk doesn't deserve anything from me. He's been trying to reach out to see Isabella, but I told him to stay away. It seems like no one in this family can be trusted. Maybe we should just call ourselves the Coleman's fools.

Aiden is determined to treat my hands with a first aid kit, so I agree and then head home. My new 40 m2 apartment is waiting for me. Maybe today will be the day my lady finally notices me.I didn't speak to anyone as I left the restaurant and got into my car. I reach the building at 5 p.m. and look for Isabella's car, but it seems she isn't home. As I step onto our floor, I see a tall, bald figure banging on her door. He's covered in tattoos and piercings. I walk slowly, sizing up the situation, feeling my anger rising.

"Hey," I call out to him, "do you need help?"

He turns around and sizes me up, his gaze fixed on my suit. A crooked grin appears on his face as he keeps banging and kicking the door. I hear some doors opening behind me, and I can guess the neighbors are curious about the commotion.

"I'm talking to you. This is my fiancée's place. Step back," I say, moving closer to him, unfazed by his tough-guy attitude. He turns to me with an even wider smirk, clearly amused by what I said. His expression shows he isn't worried at all about my warning.

"Lost, are you, little boy? Need a hug from Daddy?" He chuckles at his own joke and folds his arms. "A little blonde kid like you shouldn't mess with me. Get lost. I have business with the woman who lives here."

He tries to shove me, but I grab his hand and twist it hard. He looks shocked by my reaction and attempts to punch me, but I catch his other hand too, and slam my head into his face, making him stagger. I then hit him repeatedly in the face and stomach until blood started to cover his features.

"What do you want here?" I yell at him while I keep hitting him.

"Her... S-sister... M-money." He spits and makes a mess, but I get what he means.

"Listen to me," I slap him to get his attention. "Spread the word. Isabella is off-limits from now on. She has nothing to do with her sister. The next person who comes here will leave in a box. Do you understand?" I lift him off the ground and stare into his eyes fiercely. "If you try to contact her again, you'll wake up upside down, bleeding like a pig. Now, get out." I kick him to push him away.

He stumbles twice as he rushes to escape, shouting something that sounds like a "blonde demon." What a louse bastard. I have backup close by, and a simple click on my watch would call them. But I didn't need help this time. I hear movement and glance to the side. There's a little old lady peeking at me from her door. She has white hair, glasses, a cane, and is so short she barely reaches my waist. She's waving her hand, signaling me to come closer.

I'm unsure what to think, but I follow her instructions anyway. "You are such a good boy," she says, pinching my cheeks and making me lean in closer. "He was a bad man, causing all that noise. Now, come in, and let me treat you to some biscuits and tea. Your hands don't look good, dear. Come inside," she urges, and I can't resist her request.

She has me sit on a soft yellow couch, and a cat immediately starts to rub against my legs, purring.

"I know all about this building, young man. Start telling me about your fiancée while I make the tea." She seems so delicate that I want to get up and help her, but she scolds me, saying, "Stay seated and don't touch my porcelain. No one enters my kitchen but me. I'll tell you about my husband and the chaos he caused in my kitchen once. I met him in 1959 and..."

I spent nearly two hours with Mrs. Barbara Newman, or Barbie as her friends call her until Isabella arrived. She shared many stories about herself, and it was enjoyable. She talked about her friends, her crochet projects, and the best places to buy cat food. When I finally tried to leave to speak with Isabella, we both peered through the peephole to watch for her arrival. Mrs. Barbie remarked, "You've wronged your fiancée, mister. But I might have a book here that could help you with your issue..."