Married To The Mad Vampire Lord novel Chapter 295

Chapter 295: Another life

The young woman, who looked no more than eighteen, sat at the far end of the chamber on a rocker, her legs pulled up on the chair and her bent knees drawn to her chest. Her off-white nightdress was covering her pulled-up knees, her head buried between them as she rocked the chair back and forth, a creaking sound resounding in the silent room. Her blonde hair poured down her back in waves and around her shoulders.

She was hurting, but no one wanted to hear her out. She was in pain, but no one cared about her own pain. She was treated unfairly because she was a woman. Nobody blamed the person who had hurt her, nobody pointed a finger at this person, but her. Everybody shamed her for something she hadn’t initiated. How dare them all?

How could they all turn on her like that?

The chair continued to rock as the feeling of injustice swelled in her chest like an unbearable weight. She wanted to yell and burn down everything around her, burn down the world and everybody to ash until they could see how unfair everything was.

She wished to set fire to it all, kill them all, and then end herself. She wanted it all to end. Those were the thoughts in her mind—exactly what she wanted to happen.

She stopped rocking the chair back and forth at the creaking sound of the door. Then, almost slowly, she lifted her head from her knees and looked towards the door, and then she froze, eyes staring unblinkingly.

As hurt and in pain as she was, her hazel eyes were set with no trace of tears, but they held bitterness and resentment as they landed on the person who had entered through the door of the room that had been locked for days now to keep her in here. Her fingers fisted around her nightdress, and hate consumed her at the sight of the person.

"Good evening, Isabelle. How have you been doing?" came the mock-concerned voice of the person that only made the hate and anger swell all the more in her chest. His blue eyes looked into hers, and his blonde hair fell messily around his handsome face—a face she had thought she would never get enough of and would love to wake up to every morning, a face that she had fallen in love with at first sight. But now that same face was what she hated the most and wished to destroy.

How dare he come into her chamber after what he had done to her life?!

"Your mother told me you are not eating and you grumble at night again?" the man said as he closed the door behind him and walked forward, hands tucked casually in his pockets. "You will get yourself sent to the madhouse if you continue like this, my love. Accept the fact that you’re at fault, and we can resume our life and look forward to our marriage like nothing has happened." A smile pulled at his face as he held out his hand to her, and that smile was the last straw of her restraint.

"I will kill you!" she gritted as she lunged at him like an arrow shot from a bow. It was with so much speed that even the man standing there didn’t see it coming.

Everything happened so quickly, too quickly for her to realize what had happened to lead to it. All she knew was that she couldn’t breathe.

Her husband wasn’t there, but her son was, and Belle reached out and pulled him into her arms, hugging his little body to her chest, desperately seeking any comfort. She breathed in his baby scent, and she was delighted when Angel held her back, and soon everything began to clear away—the fear and anger she had felt in her sleep, everything evaporating like sand in the wind.

Belle hugged her son for a while longer before she moved back and looked down at the baby, who was now staring at her with what looked like a question in his dark, round eyes. His baby hand was still holding on to the front of her dress, and he was standing on her lap so his face was on the same level as hers, or at least almost on the same level, as he hadn’t grown any taller yet.

"It’s nothing, son. It was just a nightmare. I am fine." She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his chubby, smooth cheek. "How did you get here? Did papa bring you to me while I was asleep?" she questioned, feeling that holding the boy made her feel much better, and she smiled when he nodded his head at her question.

"Popo..." he said—it was his way of trying to say papa.

"Where is Papa?" she asked, playfully nuzzling his soft tummy with her nose to assure him she was all right so that the frown could drop from his baby face that made him look older. He laughed and giggled, pushing at her head frantically with small hands, his face turning boyish again.

"Popo..." he said when she stopped nuzzling him, and then he pointed out as if to tell her his papa was not around and was out.