Her Affair Killed His Mom,Now He’ll Never Take Her Back

"Isabella! Are you just going to stand there and watch him bully me?!" "Isabella!" I raised my hand, ready to slap him again. But my wrist was suddenly seized from behind. Isabella's voice drifted over my shoulder, carrying that infuriating hint of amusement. "Mr. James, isn't this a bit... undignified?" Her tone stayed light, almost playful. I heard the warning beneath it. "Boys his age care about their looks," Isabella continued. "If you actually damage his face, you'll be the one dealing with the consequences. Why put yourself through that?" Her voice remained mild, indifferent even—but her grip on my wrist tightened steadily, forcing me to release the boy. Only then did she speak again. "Let's chalk today up to youthful impulsiveness. He overstepped." "But if there's a next time—" Her gaze turned cold as it settled on me. "Mr. James, my patience has limits." I watched as she gathered the boy into her arms, cooing softly. "It doesn't hurt anymore." "There you go. Good boy." He buried himself against her, sobbing so hard he could barely breathe. She murmured comfort as she turned to leave—but I called out before she could. "Isabella." She didn't stop. I chased after her anyway, blocking her path. "If you really love him—" My eyes fixed on the boy's face. "—give him a proper title." I leaned close to his ear, letting out a soft laugh. "It's not that I won't step aside." "Your beloved sister here just won't let me vacate my position so you can take my place. If you're really that capable—" I let the words drop, casual as a stone. "—make her agree. Make her fight for you the way she once fought for me. Make her open the Fox family's doors for you." The boy went rigid. His expression shifted. He looked at Isabella, unsteady, on the verge of collapse. Isabella sighed. She walked up to me. "Dana." Her voice was ice. "Don't regret this." She signed her name on the designated line—then turned back to comfort the boy. "Happy now?" He burst into tears of joy, throwing his arms around her. But his gaze found mine over her shoulder, a silent challenge. I understood perfectly. He was gloating. Savoring his victory. Telling me, without words: He'd won. I didn't spare Isabella another glance. Didn't acknowledge the boy's triumphant stare. The boulder that had been crushing my chest finally lifted. I couldn't name what I felt. I just sat in the empty villa, watching the movers methodically erase every trace of my existence, when my phone buzzed. A video. From Isabella's little boy toy. On screen: Isabella pressed her lips to the back of his hand—reverent, as though he were the most precious thing in the world—and whispered: "Tyler." "My feelings for you aren't just words." "The ceremony you want, the commitment you crave—I'll give you all of it. So—" She produced a ring, the diamond obscenely large, and slipped it onto Tyler's finger. "Are you happy now?" Tyler laughed and cried at once, nodding frantically. Then he sent me a message: [Dana, everyone says Isabella loved you so much back then that she defied her entire family just to marry you. That she knelt in the Fox family memorial hall for seven straight days—no food, no water—and endured their family punishment before they finally agreed.] [Including your half-dead mother. The only reason she's still clinging to life is because Isabella brought in the best medical team money could buy.] [But you don't know the truth, do you?] Tyler sent another video. [It was never what you thought.] The lighting was dim. Isabella's private club. Every face in that room was familiar to me. I heard someone ask her: "Izzy, you and Dana are such a mess. What's the point of any of this?" Isabella sat in the center, toying with our wedding ring. The voice continued: "Dana's been stepping out on you—what, five girls by now? Aren't you worried he'll bring home a disease? Doesn't it disgust you?"

"So he's out there running wild, and you're just going to turn a blind eye?" Isabella remained silent. Tyler, however, slammed his glass down in frustration. "At the end of the day, you still have feelings for Dana." "For that old man!" "If you're so hung up on him, what are you even doing with me?!" He turned to storm off. Isabella finally rose, pulling him into her lap with an easy smile. "Why would I have feelings for him?" Her voice was languid, unhurried. "Dana hasn't actually done anything. Those girls he's been seeing? They're just props—tools to get a rise out of me." "I know him better than he knows himself. He has lines he won't cross." "The day he actually went through with something like that, he'd stop being Dana." Laughter rippled through the private room. Tyler still wasn't convinced. "Just because you say so doesn't make it true." "Do you have surveillance footage or something? How can you be so sure?!" His voice pitched into a petulant whine, which only made Isabella chuckle. She set her phone on the table. "See for yourself." On her phone— Every chat log between me and all ten of those women. Every single date we'd ever had, recorded on video, filed away down to the last second in her phone's folders. Isabella's voice was light. Casual. And it froze me to the bone. "Men." "All that jealousy drama gets tedious. Dana wanted to play games, so I found him some playmates." "Sure." "At first, he genuinely wanted someone who understood him—someone who'd see how hard things were for him. But the moment any of them actually tried anything—" She tapped one of the videos. It was my third girlfriend, leaning in to kiss me. I pushed her away, guilt written all over my face. "I'm sorry. I just... can't." Then I told her: "Let's break up." Isabella pointed at the screen. "Dana." "Traditional to his core. Morality above all else." "He's incapable of crossing that line. This whole thing was just to provoke me." She opened WeChat, scrolling to a conversation. My seventh girlfriend—reporting back to her. "Ms. Fox, just as you predicted. The moment I suggested getting a room, he looked at me like I disgusted him. Said I only wanted him for his body. He broke up with me on the spot." "Ms. Fox." "Should I keep pursuing him?" I remembered that girl. We'd shared so much—a love for painting, for art, even for cheesy anime. After six weeks together, she suddenly asked if we should get a room. Her hand landed on my shoulder, fingers creeping toward my collar, and my body rejected it before my mind caught up. I doubled over and vomited right there. Ended things immediately. That night. I stumbled back to the villa in a wrecked state—only to find Isabella waiting in the living room. That half-amused expression of hers settled over me like a net, cataloguing every shred of my humiliation. Shame burned through me, but what I hated more was that I still couldn't take that step. I broke down sobbing. Then Isabella pulled me into her arms. "Dana." "Still want to keep playing?" A perfume that wasn't mine curled into my nostrils. I looked up—and saw the red marks on her neck. The lipstick smeared on her collar. My stomach heaved. I vomited directly onto her. Disgust twisted her features. She stripped off her jacket and threw it at my feet. "Dana." "How long are you going to keep this up?" "Yes, I cheated." "But haven't I given you everything you wanted? You went from being a nobody—some nameless village kid—to Mr. James. Everyone envies you. Everyone says you hit the jackpot. What more could you possibly want?!" I stared up at Isabella, towering above me. I had never seen her look so foreign. So unrecognizable. And something inside me finally shattered enough to speak.

"Isabella." "Let's get a divorce." I sobbed until I shattered, screaming her name. "Isabella, please. Just let me go." She didn't agree. She just watched me fall apart—cold, unmoved—as I spiraled into hysteria. Then she dropped a single line. "Dana." "You're not thinking about yourself." "But what about your mother?" Right. My mother was still in the ICU. The entire medical team—every specialist, every nurse—Isabella had personally arranged them all. For my mother's sake, I had to endure. I could only endure. So I'd swallowed it all, day after day, until today. Until I stared at the messages flooding my phone from Tyler, and opened the latest video. Isabella was clearly drunk, draped over Tyler, slurring: "Dana won't divorce me." "Even if he doesn't stay for me—" "He'll stay for his mother. That's exactly why. No matter how far I push him, he can only take it." A dull ache spread through my chest. I'd known for a long time that Isabella and I could never go back to what we were. But hearing her say it—hearing her use my weakness as a leash—still cut deep. I listened as Tyler asked her why. She let out a soft laugh. "There's a secret." "Something Dana never knew." "Dana, you see—" Isabella beckoned with a finger, and Tyler leaned closer. "His mother always had a chance. Overseas treatment. Eighty percent cure rate. But I said no." "And I buried every trace of it." Ice shot up my spine. My hands shook so violently I nearly dropped the phone. Isabella's voice—flat, clinical—kept pouring into my ears. "I buried it all. Made sure Dana never found out." "Because I needed him." "Bound to me." "For the rest of his life." "Dana, you see—" The rest of it. I couldn't hear anymore. Tears blurred my vision completely. I clamped a hand over my mouth, choking on silent sobs, remembering— My mother. Climbing that mountain with the village herbalists to scrape together my college tuition. The fall. The coma that had swallowed her whole. Years. So many years. She'd always been the wound I couldn't heal. I still remembered how I'd nearly destroyed myself back then. How I'd wanted to die. Then Isabella appeared. The untouchable heiress, standing before me, pulling me into her arms so tight it hurt. "Don't be afraid, Dana." "You have me. You don't have to be afraid of anything." Isabella had held my shattered pieces together. My breakdown. My entire life. She'd brought in the best doctors for my mother. Paid my tuition. Isabella. Isabella. She'd made me who I became. And Isabella— My phone wouldn't stop ringing. The hospital. My heart seized. Before I could answer, a new message from Tyler cut through—mocking, venomous: "What a shame." "Looks like your mom lost the will to live once she learned the truth." The video showed my mother's face. Tears sliding from the corners of her eyes. I stabbed at the screen to answer. The doctor's voice came through. "Mr. James." "Your mother—" Silence stretched on the other end. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The world went quiet—so quiet I could only hear my own heartbeat. And my own voice, cracking: "My mom..." "What happened to my—" "Your mother passed away at 6:35 this evening." "We're deeply sorry." "Please accept our condolences." Isabella's nights of drinking herself unconscious were nothing new. Everyone knew the Fox heiress wore warmth like a mask—underneath, she was colder than anyone. But she had one weakness. One soft place she couldn't armor. Dana. Dana. "Dana..." Isabella's eyes snapped open. She grabbed the phone that wouldn't stop buzzing, glanced at the caller ID, and snarled into the receiver. "This better be important!" "Ms. Fox..." The voice on the other end stumbled, unable to form a complete sentence. Isabella's eyelid twitched. Her heart seized. She didn't even have time to react. Through the phone, Vincent Fox finally managed to speak, his voice trembling. "Mr. James, he..." "Mr. James's mother passed away last night."