The Rose He Killed novel Chapter 22

<Chapter 22 Return to Hell

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Chapter 22: Return to Hell

Bella POV

I made it back to the penthouse before I fell apart completely. The elevator doors had barely closed before the first sob broke free, raw and ugly and years overdue. I pressed my back against the wall and slid down until I was sitting on the floor, my expensive suit wrinkling, my carefully styled hair falling loose from its pins.

Seeing him today, I could barely breathe.

I’d prepared for this moment for years. I’d practiced what I’d say, how I’d look at him with cold indifference, how I’d prove that he meant nothing to me anymore. I’d built an empire specifically to show him what he’d thrown away.

But the moment I’d turned around and seen those grey eyes, the ones I saw every morning in my son’s face, my lungs had forgotten how to work.

The elevator doors opened on the penthouse floor, and I stumbled out, my heels catching on the marble. I kicked them off and left them where they fell, not caring about the trail of expensive accessories I was leaving behind.

“Mommy!” Tom’s voice called from the living room, bright and happy. “Mommy’s home!”

I couldn’t let him see me like this. I pressed my hands against my face, trying to wipe away the tears, trying to breathe normally, trying to be the strong mother he deserved instead of this broken woman who couldn’t stop shaking.

“Ms. Hart?” Angela appeared in the hallway, concern immediately flooding her features. “Are you alright? Should I”

“I need five minutes.” My voice came out strangled. “Please. Just five minutes.”

She nodded quickly and disappeared back into the living room, and I heard her tell Tom that Mommy needed to change out of her work clothes first. Sweet, understanding Angela who’d been with us for years and knew when to give me space.

I made it to my bedroom and locked the door, then collapsed on the bed and let the sobs come in earnest. Great, heaving cries that shook my entire body, tears that soaked into my silk pillowcase, sounds that I muffled with my hands because I couldn’t let Tom hear me breaking. “Get rid of it.”

His voice echoed in my head, cruel and dismissive, the way he’d laughed when I’d told him I was pregnant. The way he’d looked at me like I was nothing, like our child was an inconvenience to be disposed of.

And today, few years later, he’d stood in that hallway with tears in his eyes and said he was sorry.

Sorry.

As if sorry could undo what he’d done. As if sorry could give me back the months I’d spent homeless and terrified, scrubbing toilets while pregnant, choosing between food and prenatal vitamins. As if sorry could erase the nights I’d lain awake wondering if my baby would survive, if I would survive, if anyone in the world gave a damn whether we lived or died.

Chapter 22-Return to Hell

+25 Points

Lelutched my chest, trying to ease the physical ache that had settled there the moment I’d seen him. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, and I couldn’t make it stop.

I refuse to feel anything for him, I told myself fiercely, desperately. I refuse to let him matter. I refuse to care that he looked broken, that his hands shook when he reached for me, that his voice cracked when he asked about the baby. But I did care, and I hated myself for it.

years of building walls, of turning myself into ice, of becoming someone who couldn’t be hurt, and five minutes with Caleb Black had reduced me to this sobbing mess on my bed.

A soft knock on my door made me sit up, wiping frantically at my face.

“Mommy?” Tom’s small voice came through the wood. “Are you okay? Àngela said you’re sad.”

I couldn’t let him see me like this. I couldn’t let my son know that his mother, the woman who’d taught him to be strong and brave, was falling apart over a man who’d thrown them both away.

“I’m fine, baby,” I called out, my voice almost steady. “Mommy just had a long day. Give me two minutes, okay?”

“Okay. But Mommy? I love you.”

Those three words broke something in me all over again. I pressed my hand over my mouth to muffle another sob, tears streaming down my face. “I love you too, Tom. So much.”

I heard his footsteps retreat, and I forced myself to stand, to go to the bathroom and wash my face, to look at my reflection and see the Iron Empress instead of the broken girl.

My eyes were swollen and red, my makeup destroyed, my face blotchy from crying. I looked like I’d been through a war.

I suppose I had been.

I washed my face with cold water, reapplied minimal makeup to hide the worst of the damage, and changed into comfortable clothes. By the time I emerged from my room twenty minutes later, I looked almost human again.

Tom was sitting on the couch with Angela, watching cartoons, but he jumped up the moment he saw me and ran over with his arms outstretched.

“Mommy!” He crashed into my legs, hugging me tight. “You were gone so long today. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby.” I scooped him up and held him close, breathing in his familiar scent, letting his solid warmth ground me. “Did you have a good day with Angela?”

“We went to the park and I saw ducks and Angela let me get ice cream even though it’s not the weekend He pulled back to look at my face, his grey eyes studying me with that too-perceptive gaze. “Why are your eyes red? Were you crying?”

“Just tired, sweetheart.” I forced a smile. “Mommy’s speech was very long and there were lots of people.”

“Did they like your speech?” Tom asked, apparently satisfied with my explanation. “Did you tell them about your company and how you’re the boss of everything?”

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