Chapter 2

Isabella drew in a long breath before speaking again. "What about Charlotte then? You'd rather let people believe she's Jasper's mom by posting those amusement‑park photos than admit I exist."

"Charlotte is a better fit to be Jasper's mother than you." James sounded almost bored, as if stating a simple fact. "She has the right education, the right background. She can give Jasper things you can't."

His words cut straight through her, sharp and unhesitating. Her voice trembled. "But I'm the one who gave birth to him…"

"Enough." James lifted his head, meeting her eyes with a coldness that chilled her skin. "If Jasper stays with you, you'll only ruin him. Charlotte's a lady. She's not like you, using those cheap tactics."

Isabella froze. Her fingers twisted into the hem of her shirt, nails digging into her palm until the sting turned numb.

So that was what she was to him. A low, shameless woman.

James glanced her way once more before walking off. His footsteps faded down the hallway.

She drifted back to her room like a shadow, crawled under the covers, and finally let her tears spill over. Once they began, they wouldn't stop.

In their first year of marriage, James had moved into the guest room across the hall. They had slept separately for five years.

She could endure that. She could endure all of it. Except this—James deliberately pushing Jasper away from her.

He was her son. Her child was carried for nine long months. The thought alone made her chest tighten until tears blurred her vision again.

The next morning, when Isabella woke, the house was empty.

There was a note on the dining table, written in James's clean, sharp handwriting: [Jasper will stay with Charlotte for a few days. He'll be back this weekend.]

She held the note in her palm for a long moment. Then she set it down, changed her clothes, and walked out the door.

She drove to Jasper's school, the most expensive private elementary school in Emerald City.

September in Novaria carried a crisp chill. Parents filled the sidewalk, dropping off their children amid the low hum of morning traffic.

Isabella stood at the gate, scanning the crowd. When she finally saw Charlotte, her heart clenched.

Charlotte pulled up in a white Chevy. Jasper hopped out with a smile so bright it knocked the air out of Isabella's lungs.

Charlotte crouched down, straightening his crooked bow tie. She pulled a thermos from her bag and said something to him in a gentle voice.

Jasper nodded hard, then rose on his toes to plant a kiss on her cheek.

Charlotte laughed softly, brushing a hand through his hair before taking his hand and walking toward the entrance.

Isabella's fingers curled tight. Her knuckles turned pale.

She walked toward them, forcing her voice out past the tightness in her throat, "Jasper."

Jasper turned. The moment he saw her, his smile disappeared.

"What are you doing here?" He took a step back and ducked behind Charlotte.

The rejection hit so fast she could barely breathe. "Mom just wanted to see you."

"I don't need you to." Jasper gripped Charlotte's coat. "Ms. Johnson is taking me to class."

Isabella lifted her gaze to Charlotte.

Charlotte stood with a poised, polite smile that somehow felt colder than winter air. "Don't blame Jasper, Isabella. He may be young, but he still has a right to choose who he feels close to."

Isabella straightened, meeting her eyes. "Are you saying it's wrong for me to see my own son?"

Charlotte didn't bristle. She simply sighed softly. "You're his biological mother, I know. But Jasper likes me. He's more comfortable with me. Some things you just can't force."

Every word was tender and refined, yet each one cut deeper than the last.

A school security guard approached, greeting Charlotte with warm familiarity. "Ms. Johnson, back to drop Jasper off?"

Then he looked Isabella over, assessing her with blunt curiosity. "And you are…?"

Before Charlotte could speak, Jasper blurted out, "I don't know her!"

Isabella stared at him, feeling a slow, icy numbness spread through her chest.

"She's a distant relative of James's," Charlotte answered smoothly. "She wanted to stop by and see Jasper today."

The guard nodded, shooting Isabella a dismissive look, as if she were just another woman trying to climb her way into a wealthy family.

"Jasper, you'll be late," Charlotte said warmly. She ruffled his hair again.

Jasper clung to her hand. "Ms. Johnson, will you pick me up after school?"

"I will. I'll be right here." She knelt to adjust the strap on his backpack. "Go on."

Jasper kissed her cheek again before running toward the school gates, never once looking back at Isabella.

Isabella stood still, watching her son disappear into the building.

Charlotte stepped closer. "I know this hurts," she said softly. "But Jasper's young. You can't show up like this out of nowhere. It scares him."

Isabella stared at her, something bitter rising in her throat.

Charlotte sounded gentle. Thoughtful. But every word reminded her she didn't belong.

"Charlotte," Isabella said, her voice turning cold. "Don't forget—I'm Mrs. Sinclair."

Charlotte's smile faltered before settling again. "So what? James doesn't love you. Staying with him doesn't make you more than a housekeeper."

Isabella opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Because Charlotte wasn't wrong. Six years of cooking, cleaning, and shrinking herself into the shadows of the Sinclair home had hollowed her out. 

James had never warmed to her. Even Jasper didn't want her near him.

In this house, she was worth less than the help.

By the time she gathered her thoughts, Charlotte was already gone.

Isabella wandered through the streets of Novaria with no sense of direction, moving as if her body knew where to go but her mind didn't. She didn't return home until dusk.

The moment she stepped into the living room, she saw James sitting on the couch, waiting for her. His expression was tight with irritation.

"You went to the school today?" His voice was cold.

She didn't answer. Exhaustion pressed down on her shoulders.

James stood, approaching her with all the warmth of a judge preparing a sentence. "How many times do I have to say it? Don't go near Jasper at school."

"Why?" Isabella's head lifted, eyes burning. "I'm his mother. Do I really have no right to see him?"

"You only gave birth to him." James cut her off. "Isabella, I married you for the child. Otherwise, you wouldn't even have the right to meet him."

A sharp, humorless laugh escaped her before she could stop it. "I don't have the right? After everything I've done for this family? But Charlotte does, I suppose?"

James's patience thinned visibly. "And what exactly do you have to compare with her? You've lived comfortably in the Sinclair Family for six years, while Charlotte struggled overseas. Do you really think you're her equal?"

He grabbed his car keys from the coffee table and turned toward the door.

"James," Isabella called quietly.

He paused. Didn't look back.

"Let's get a divorce."