Blackmailing His Runaway Bride by Dance-is-me (carter reed .txt) 📗

It was during the drive that Isabella decided to ask Charles about his company because she felt she didn't know much about his life ever since they met again. 

But to think that a man like him could subtly sound sad and pitiful...

 It made Isabella realize she had to be there for him in times to come just as he was for her.

"Hey..." She reached for his thick arm and ran her hand through it gently. "I know how serious you are when it comes to your business and I can tell your fears are nothing. They won't come to pass because you are an amazing businessman and also, a very good husband."

"Hmm. That's good to know." He spared her another glance before he took a sharp turn. "We are home," his thick voice announced. And he drove towards the side garage.

Looking to her right, Isabella noticed a figure sitting down on the small bench that was placed below the front window of the luxurious bungalow. 

"Who is that?" Isabella asked and Charles leaned in for a better view. 

After Isabella watched him squint his eyes severally, she saw a little frown grow on his face. 

"What?" Isabella asked. "Do you know her?" Her eyes darted to the black-haired woman who instantly backed them as though she sensed the extra eyes. 

"Yes. That's Daphne."

"Who's Daphne?"

 Charles did not hear her question as he was soon out of the car.

Watching as he firmly approached the woman, Isabella also got rid of her seatbelt and got down from the car.

When her stance leveled with Charles's who was staring inquisitively at the woman, Isabella also took a good look.

 Her oval face was quite pale and her hair kept sticking to her face due to her sweating.

 The woman's small, slightly cracked lips wore a small smile.

A little motion happened below the woman's chin and when Isabella's eyes fell in that direction, she almost gasped. 

The woman was heavily pregnant. 

"What are you doing here, Daphne?" Charles finally asked.

"Is that any way to welcome me after all these months? Uh? Charles?" The woman's voice was so tender and soft that it made Isabella a bit jealous. 

Isabella was hardly fond of the way her voice sounded. 

"I am surprised I even remember you. What are you doing here?" Charles asked again, his hands pocketing. 

"Your words hurt me, Charles. But since you ask..." Her hands rubbed her heavy belly. "I am here because I am tired of pretending."

Isabella's eyes confusedly swung at Charles and she did not miss how his jaws kept clenching. 

"Pretending about what?" he asked sternly.

She huffed. "Pretending that you are not the father of the child inside me."