"I don't believe this." The suited man turned in his stance to further bore his grim sight at the tearing woman seated in front of him. "I have been calling the wrong man my father for thirty-one years."

"Christopher is still your father regardless. He accepted you, loved you as his own," she said, her voice trembling, her expensive silk scarf doing a good job of wiping her tears off before they could damage her makeup.

"He knew?" Charles scoffed as his mother confirmed it. Taking a seat on the leather sofa which strangely was the only furniture he ever sat on, he ran his hair backward, the dryness annoying him a bit. "I still don't believe that you kept this from me."

"Charles," the richly dressed woman whose age wasn't telling on her spoke softly, "truthfully, if I had my way, I would have preferred you not to know. Rodrigo is sort of a bastard, Charles."

"I was a bastard unknowingly for years, mother."

The gentle look on his mother's face turned to a frown for a second. "Don't speak such things about yourself, Charles. You were raised by a wonderful father, the best you could ever have."

He sighed.

He did love the man he called Father. Charles appreciated him for everything he had done. But it hurt. It hurt to know that he had spent years calling the wrong man his father.

"So, if this letter hadn't come, I wouldn't have known about this."

"I really wish it didn't come," Mrs. Oxford whispered into the office that wore a cold look similar to the one on the face of its main occupant.

Silence took over. The mother avoided her son's piercing glares. It was as though she knew that he was trying to mask the anger within him behind his roughly chiseled face. Charles took another look at his mother, his eyes all set. "I have to meet Rodrigo Ordinaz."

The silly hat on his mother's head bobbed as her whole body reacted to his statement. Shaking her head, tears forming on the surface of her eyes, she begged, "Please my son, don't do this. Don't give in to his demands."

"I deserve to meet my real father before he dies." He rarely saw his mother cry, so he could tell how serious she was with her pleading. But his mind was made up.

"But if you want to meet him, you will have to give in to his demands."

Charles gave a short shrug. "I have to get married, how hard can that be?"

"You can't just pick any girl to marry, that's like the worst thing that can happen to a man."

"Who says I am marrying any girl? Mother," his hands tucked beneath his chin. "I am a man that deals with precise selections of things, I will not make an exception when it comes to choosing a wife."

"Is this about his wealth? Rodrigo's wealth? You don't have to do this son. Your father's empire is more than enough."

"I don't care about his money. I just want to meet my real father, dammit!" He hated to see his mother flinch, but she was too blinded by her emotions to see how important it was to him. Heck! He would marry a thousand times to get to meet his real father and… siblings.

"I even have siblings. Don't I deserve to meet them?"

"What I am saying is that you don't have to give in to his demands, there are other ways…" 

"Mother, you said it yourself, Rodrigo Ordinaz is a strange yet calculating and highly manipulative man. I am sure he must have broken off any alternative routes that I could use to get to him. Please mother don't make this any harder, I have made my decision."

"So, you are getting married." Contrary to the usual excessive grins mothers wore whenever their children tell them they are tying the knot, the formal-looking middle-aged woman had her face falling.

"It seems so."

"Just be careful Charles." And she got up, leaving him with his thoughts and his lonely-looking office.

His recent decision meant a change in his plans. Apart from looking for a woman who would want to be his wife- (which would be a bit tasking), he needed to move to America where his real father has lived for many years. Charles needed to be closer to his recently discovered family.

His intent on meeting Rodrigo Ordinaz may seem unnecessary to some people, like his mother. But, he grew up wondering why he had the features of a Brazilian when both his parents were British. He certainly wasn't going to miss an opportunity to find a complete answer to his question.

But the conditions attached... Where was he going to find a woman that he could trust enough to get married to?

If only she had gotten married to him back then, he wouldn't be having this problem. He still had not forgotten her. It was difficult to forget a woman with a face like hers. Voice so seducing, it made you react instantly. Her body was so curved in the right places, Charles could almost see him running his hands through her soft skin.

It bothered him though, that he was yet to forget her.

For crying out loud, she left him waiting at the altar, left without a note, and vanished without a trace. She made him suffer heartbreak and it sure was a heartbreak, because he loved her and he had every reason to believe that she did too.

"Mr. Charles?" The voice of his secretary brought him out of his thoughts.

"Miss Kane, what is it?"

"The files are on your table sir," he noticed that her shirt had a few buttons loose and they definitely weren't like that when she came in to announce the arrival of his mother. 

"What about the contract…?" he cleared his throat, and she offered to pour him water. "What about the contract with Jubili Limited?"

Charles could see the swell of her breasts as she angled her body to achieve a seductive pose. He had to give it to her, she knew her game. Miss Kane was attractive no doubt, with her blonde silky hair that she never failed to flaunt. And her office wears which she always wore fitly to bring out her body shape. But he had a strict no-sex-with-employee policy and he sure wasn't going to break it.

"Here, sir." Her fingertips brushed his knuckles as she handed him the glass of water. "They have sent the copy of their signed contract."

"I need you to have the private jet ready. By next week Monday, we will be leaving for New York."

"Okay, sir." She was importantly competent, he wouldn't want to taint that by having a night pleasure with her.

"So, send me the rest of the documents yet to be signed. And try to see if you can squeeze meetings into the rest of this week. If at all any meeting will fall in the following weeks, make sure it is meetings that will be held in the States."

"Alright, sir. Is that all?" He gave a curt nod which was to his secretary's disappointment, but he did not notice that. He had gone back to relishing the beauty of the woman in his earlier thoughts.

Charles hated that he was doing it, yet a part of him seemed joyous as though Isabella was still in his life and was going to walk into the room any second soon, her eyes beaming with a hunger for him.

Tired.

There was no other word to use to describe her feeling at that moment. Slumping onto the brown leather couch, Isabella recalled with bitterness, the meeting she just had with the bank's representative.

The company was running more and more into debt and she was not seeing a way out soon. Grabbing her phone to check the time, Isabella realized it was almost time to go home.

Home.

That was another problem on its own. A problem she would deal with once she gets there but at that moment, she needed to work out a way to get her company out of the extraordinary debt it was in. Getting up, she walked towards her desk and dialed her secretary to come inside.

"Hey, Isa."

"Caleb." She sat slightly against the edge of the glass desk.

The blonde man walked towards her, his stride different because of some accident on his father's farm. Something that had to do with chickens or something. On seeing the look on her face, he sat back and made a whoosh-like sound, "I take it the meeting didn't go well."

"Things are actually worse. We can't get more loans anymore, we risk being closed down anytime soon." She faced him and asked, "What do I do Caleb? I have no idea. No one around wants to help. Nobody wants to form a meagre, they keep saying the business is old news."

"I know you can't bear losing this company, so we just have to try harder when it comes to saving the company. But Isabella, apart from some issues we have right here, you know where the main problem is."

Suddenly reminded of the burden waiting for her at home, heaviness befell her chest. "I am trying, Caleb. I am trying to get him to stop being so wasteful but he will not even listen to me."

"Leave him, Isabella. Why don't you just get rid of that man?"

The misery within her flashed through her face for some seconds, Isabella got up to hide it. "It is not that simple Caleb. I wish it were, but it is not. Forget that for now, what new ideas do you have to get us out of this mess? Cause the way we are going, by next week, more than ninety percent of the staff would be laid off."

Sighing, he uncrossed his leg, his hand went to his rough chin to scratch out some ideas, "There is this charity event happening next week Thursday."

"Okay?"

"It is going to be held in Hotel Achilles and you and I know the kind of people that hold events there."

"The rich part of this world. Go on." Isabella took her seat.

"I can get us an invite and we can maybe mingle with the crowd and who knows, someone might be willing to merge or buy us out of this situation."

A quick frown lighted Isabella's tired face. "Buy out? No. No, Caleb, I am not selling my company, I worked hard to convince my father to not sell this place to some stranger but to let me head it. So, no buying out."

"Oh." Caleb smiled apologetically. "I am sorry, I didn't mean it that way. Well, that is probably the only chance we have to get anything done about the debt."

"It is our only option, we just have to do it. Work on getting those invites and I will work on portraying the company in a good light."

"Okay. I guess that is settled. How much time do we have till the bank takes an action on closing us down?"

"A month," replied Isabella.

"Okay. Things are going to work in our favour at that event, I can feel it." Isabella just had to appreciate his optimism. Contrary to his bright declaration, Isabella was a bit unenthusiastic. She really was glad that she had Caleb, she was happy she had befriended someone like him.

"I guess it is time to go home," Isabella said and Caleb nodded, the chair making creaking sounds as he got up. "My regards to your father and get something done about your walk, you are starting to have a stride similar to that of the chicken that attacked you."

"Yeah, yeah. Goodnight Isa. Stay safe."

Safe.

She needed to hear​​​​​ that word. An image flashed in her head that caused her to grimace. She did need to hear that word.

~

The whole room smelt like alcohol and that was a bad thing already.

"Gabriel," Isabella gently called as she laid her bag and jacket on the nearest chair. The scent getting stronger as she walked, Isabella just had to wonder how many bottles he had.

The night before, she had counted close to fifteen bottles.

"Gabriel."

"What the hell are you shouting my name for?" The door that shielded their room from prying eyes slammed shut as Gabriel walked out, making a big deal out of the gentle manner she had called him.

Closing her eyes to prepare herself for the drama ahead, Isabella turned to face her husband of more than five years. Her husband that always got people asking; why are you with him?- anytime they were seen together. "Gabriel, why is the house reeking of alcohol?"

"Who are you to question me?" The tall man walked towards her, a scowl on his face. Grabbing her elbow forcefully, he continued, "This is my house and I can do whatever I want to in this place. Is that clear?" Isabella nodded quietly as the monstrous flare of his nostrils caught her attention. "I fucking asked if that is clear!" he roared.

Almost shuddering to shake away the growing fear within her, Isabella replied quietly, "Yes, Gabriel."

His hand pressed further into her skin to her discomfort, but she stood there anyway, not a complaint on her face. "You are my wife not my boss and it should stay that way."

Forcefully, he retracted his hold and that caused the woman's petite figure to stagger, her curvy buttocks almost kissing the brown tiles if not for the remaining stamina she had within her.

Her tired eyes trailing Gabriel as he walked to wherever he was going in only boxers and a white singlet, Isabella wondered whether to ask him if he had eaten.

"Oh, by the way, the money you hid in your clothes, I have spent it. So don't bother looking for what is not lost."

She was not asking him any shit about eating.

The feeling of anger which she wished to keep at bay, couldn't help but wrap her soul and she sternly questioned the man, saying, "What on earth are you talking about, Gabriel? That money was supposed to last us for the next six months. I was just about to take it to the bank. How could you just..." A deep breath followed. Trying not to visibly grit her teeth, Isabella continued, "What on earth did you spend it on?"

Gabriel shrugged, his hand going on to scratch the region just above his thigh. "Things. Listen, don't beat yourself up too much, you will get more money. That's why you are working."

Her hands were fisted and the fury inside her was almost leading to tears. "You were not supposed to touch it, Gabriel."

"Listen," the man's anger re-surfaced and Isabella took a step back even though he wasn't that close to avoid him getting physical, "this is what you get since you refused to give me a son."

"Gabriel..."

"Give me a son and I will stop wasting your stuff." Isabella had heard that phrase so many times, her ears were almost bleeding at that point. Now feeling empty, Isabella allowed her weakness to get to her. She fell onto the chilly ground and Gabriel wore an amused smile in response before he said, "Don't wait up tonight, I will be out having fun."

"You are going to gamble again, aren't you?"

If he heard her, he did not show. As the door of the bedroom slammed from within, Isabella felt her shoulders slump. The heaviness in her chest was so much, that it seemed it had found somewhere else in her soul to extend to.

If only a miracle could happen, she thought as she got up to find something to eat. Because at that stage a miracle was just what she needed to get out of her mess.

Charles pinched the bridge of his nose. The past few days had been a mental hell for him. Apart from his norm of attending meeting after meetings, the fact that he was so close yet far from his real family members tortured him.

And there was the fact that he had not found a suitable time to devote to searching for a wife.

He needed a break, he needed some sort of entertainment. At that moment, in order to find his plans working out perfectly, he needed a clear mind.

Charles picked up his phone and called his secretary.

"Sir, you called me," Miss Kane said as she walked in with careful steps, her dress quite provocative as always.

"Yes," he poured himself some whiskey, his one and loyal company, "are there any events in town that I can attend? I need a break."

As he swirled the quarter-filled glass in his majestic hold, he locked eyes with his secretary.

"I don't know..." The woman's eyes darted with uncertainty.

"Miss Kane, I like to think that you are good at what you do. I would be quite disappointed if my thoughts are proven to be wrong. So, instead of telling me you don't know anything, I should be hearing you say you will be finding out if there is any."

The slight cruelty in his voice did not appear to move her, and that was one of the reasons he had her promoted to the status of being his secretary. Unlike some of his employees, she never looked startled whenever he was being the angry, thorough boss.

As expected, Christina Kane nodded her head slightly and said, "I will make sure to find out if there is any."

"Just call me to tell me what you have confirmed. I don't want to be disturbed either, take the rest of the day off." Charles felt his tiredness seep in further. The past few days were indeed tasking and it would be risky for the man to refuse himself a minute of rest.

"Alright, sir."

A few minutes later, she called to inform him about a charity event holding the next day. 

Slipping off the chair onto the rug, Charles resumed his drinking.

He had found his entertainment and he hoped it would be fun. He hoped something reasonable would come out of it and that he wouldn't waste his special time.

If anything, his time was highly precious to him and those who have wasted his time in the past felt a burn they were yet to recover from.

~

Charles Oxford was starting to feel absolute regret as the murmurs in the ballroom reached his ears.

Peeling his eyes off the sight of a group of people who cheered loudly with their champagne glasses, he questioned himself.

Why did he decide to find something to do? Now, the very thing he wished not to happen was occurring. His eyes darted sharply across the room once again and watched the crowd whose bright smiles became unbearable to watch.

Then, the man sighed. His barely existent time was being wasted.

The whole room reeked of boredom. Nothing fun was being done. The music being played was doing more of weighing his soul down. Neither was the exact reason for the gathering being discussed. Nobody was talking about the purpose of the charity.

Their excited chatters were definitely all about business talks. Charles wished to guess that the cluster of expensively dressed men and women would result in a million-dollar deal for some and losses for others.

Either way, it was quite unfortunate that they masked the event with a tag that most of them didn't care about.

Rubbing his huge recently moisturized hands, Charles reasoned that it would have been preferable to spend the whole day locked up in his room with his thoughts and his indulging work than to be at that event.

"Christina." He faced his secretary who he had decided to take along with the intention of relieving her of her work.

It was bad enough that she was going to be stuck with him for a while.

As usual, she was dressed to kill. If not for his morals and principles, Charles knew he would be taking her right into the bathroom as a means of surviving the boredom in the huge space. But, if he did that, Charles knew that he would not like what follows.

He might decide to fire her or she might take his move as an invitation to be with him romantically.

"Yes, Charles," the lady responded, her eyes set on him. Charles had given her the liberty to call him by his first name.

"When is this event supposed to end?"

"In two hours, sir."

"How long have we been here?"

"Ten minutes, sir."

"Um," he hummed and he gave Christina a side glance. The way she had her eyes glued on him made him suddenly feel uneasy.

Charles could read her spoken words loud and clear, Christina wanted him. At any cost.

He was used to seeing such looks.

Shifting his stance slightly to the left, his hand clutching his almost empty wine glass a bit harder, Charles's eyes travelled to the entrance and at that moment, the most unexpected sight greeted him.

Realizing his heart was thumping, Charles shifted again, cleared his throat, and pocketed his hands into the silkiness of his suit trouser.

Within a swift second, Charles gathered his ego, pride, and masculinity into one big attitude, he could not afford to appear weak as he just felt.

His surprised sight traveled back to Isabella who was walking hand in hand with a tall guy toward one of the small gatherings in the room.

With his sharp gaze, he observed her movements. He tried to determine what was different about her, he wished to see how much she had changed.

She had not changed a lot.

She was dressed in a red, long-sleeved pencil gown that held her body in the right places. Isabella always looked good in red. Always.

It made her eyes appear fiery like the character she was. Or rather, the woman he knew.

Her hair, brunette and long was curled into layers and they kept dancing as she talked and laughed with the people she was with.

Charles closed his eyes as the image of her closing her eyes in satisfaction whenever he ran his hands through her hair, came to his mind.

Opening his eyes, with locked jaws, Charles noticed further that something was missing in her eyes. They still looked fiery but they lacked the happiness that always made him smile whenever he saw her.

Wondering who the man she was with was, Charles chastised himself for bothering himself by recalling the past. Instead, he could be dealing with the present the way he wanted.

He smirked to himself as he imagined what reactions would be on the face of the woman that was meant to be his wife.

"Christina?"

"Yes?" He extended his arm for Christina to hook hers onto.

"It is time for us to mingle with the crowd." Charles returned the smile Christina gave him as her slender arm went around his. He could still feel Christina's eyes on him from time to time.

That was her problem.

What was on his mind at that moment was the woman in red and how he was going to make a re-entry into her life.

After six years.