Chapter 5
The yacht docked at sunset.
Dorian stepped off the deck, Miranda at his side, Lydia and the others close behind. They were laughing, still riding high on the thrill of the past three days–booze, music, luxury, and secrets shared under the stars.
Someone in the crowd piped up casually, “Hey, did you guys see that post? Some pregnant woman got into a car crash today–she was carrying quadruplets.”
The moment those words dropped, Dorian’s brows knotted sharply. He shot the guy a cold glare.
Lydia let out a light laugh. “Oh, come on, Dorian. Don’t tell me you’re worried it’s Isabella?”
Just then, a courier walked over, dragging a small dolly cart behind him.
R
“Miss Miranda, Miss Lydia, Miss Cecilia- deliveries for each of you. And one for Mr. Dorian Sinclair. Sign here, please.
He handed out four packages, each one sealed and reeking of something metallic and foul.
The women exchanged uneasy glances.
Lydia wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, what the hell is that smell?”
Miranda flinched. “A prank maybe?”
Lydia shoved her package into
her hands. “You
open it. I’m not touching th
Miranda and Cecilia, though hesitant, followed suit.
Dorian stared at his own box, unease curling in his gut like smoke.
Behind him, Ethan’s voice trembled.
Dorian… I think that pregnant woman… I think it was Isabella.”
Lydia’s eyes widened. “Wait—what?! What about the babies? Are they okay?!”
The courier, still lingering nearby, shrugged. “I saw the crash too. Lady was huge–like about to pop. Said she was carrying four. One
crash, five lives gone. Tragic stuff.”
Dorian’s hands shook. The package slipped from his grip, crashing to the pavement.
The lid cracked open.
And what lay inside made the air still.
Across from him, the other three packages were being opened.
The women screamed; around them, people gasped and turned away, faces draining of color.
The contents weren’t gory–but they were unmistakable.
Burned. Ashen. Cold.
It didn’t take much to realize what they were.
Dorian stared down, frozen. Then–like something inside him snapped he lunged for the courier, grabbing him by the shirt.
“This can’t be real! It’s not real!”
“Where is she?! Where the hell is Isabella?!”
The courier blinked, confused and alarmed. “Who? I don’t know any Isabella! I just deliver what I’m given, man!”
Dorian let go of him, chest heaving, rage and panic tearing through him in equal measure.
She knew.
Chapter 5
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Isabella knew everything.
And this was how she chose to tell them.
“These aren’t my children,” he muttered, fists clenched. “And Isabella isn’t dead.”
He pulled out his phone, dialing frantically.
Behind him, Lydia smacked the box from her boyfriend’s hands and shrieked, “I don’t care if she’s dead–what about my child?! How
could she be so selfish?! Couldn’t she wait three more months?!”
Miranda stood pale, shaken, too stunned to speak.
Cecilia hissed, “Seven months along–just three more months and the babies would’ve been born. And now it’s all wasted.”
Someone muttered something about Vivian–noting bitterly that unlike the others, she was already gone. She’d never get another
chance.
At the edge of the crowd, a voice added, “Guess the betting pool’s off, huh?”
“Yeah. What a damn shame.”
Another voice chimed in, “You think she found the
“Of course she did. Why else would she do this?” Sweren’t hers?”
Their whispers scraped against Dorian’s skull like nails on stone.
He tightened his grip on the phone.
Still no answer.
The silence made his skin crawl.
“Shut the fuck up!” he roared.
Everyone fell silent.
He turned on Ethan, grabbed him by the collar. “Where did you see it? The accident. Where?!”
Dorian lost it. He tore through the city like a storm, calling every hospital, every clinic, every police contact he had.
But in the end, he found nothing.
Nothing… except a box of ashes.
“The patient suffered massive blood loss,” the nurse explained. “Before we could notify her family, she said she didn’t have any. Left behind a written request said she wanted immediate cremation. No funeral.”
A letter was handed to him.
His fingers trembled as he unfolded the paper.
There was only one sentence: [Dorian, we’re even now.]
