Winning Back His Ex's Wife's Broken Heart by Hayley

Chapter 117 Richard pov.

The house was too quiet. The kind of quiet that made you second-guess your decisions.

Sarah had left again in a whirlwind of anger yesterday, and even though I understood why, I still felt like I'd been blindsided.

She'd accused Isabelle of... what? Stalking? Manipulating? It sounded ridiculous when I thought about it.

Still, I couldn't shake the memory of Sarah's face before she stormed out. She'd looked hurt. Betrayed. And maybe, deep down, I knew I had something to do with that.

Her message about not finding her groundedfrom following her, but of course, I knew where she slept, the hotel, and the room and I paid extra security to look after her. I sighed and pushed my coffee mug aside. The sun streamed through the kitchen window, casting long shadows on the table.

Isabelle walked in, humming softly. She looked like she didn't have a care in the world.

"Good morning," she said with a cheerful smile, heading straight for the kettle.

I forced a nod, trying to act normal. But Sarah's words lingered in the back of my mind.

"You and Sarah okay?" Isabelle asked.

"Yeah," I lied. "Just... a rough night." Isabelle tilted her head, her brows knitting together in concern. "I hate to think I'm the reason for any of that." Her voice was sweet, almost too sweet, and I felt a pang of guilt. Sarah thought Isabelle was up to something, but here she was, acting kind and understanding. Was Sarah overreacting? "It's not your fault," I said quickly. "Sarah just gets worked up sometimes." She gavea small smile, but there was something in her eyes I couldn't quite place.

Later that morning, I was in my office, staring at the pile of work I was supposed to finish. My thoughts kept drifting back to Isabelle.

Sarah's accusations were still fresh, but they didn't line up with the woman I'd gotten to know. Isabelle was kind, and always ready to help.

I thought about the little things. The way she always seemed to know exactly what I needed, even before I said it.

How she'd bringcoffee in the exact way I liked it. How she'd laugh at my jokes a little too easily.

Was I imagining it? "Knock, knock," a familiar voice called out, snappingback to the present.

I looked up to see Martins leaning against the doorframe, a grin on his face. "You look like you've seen a ghost." I laughed, relieved to see him. "No ghosts, just work. What brings you here?" Martins strolled in, plopping down in the chair across from me. "Figured you could use a break. Heard things have been tense at home." I groaned, leaning back in my chair. "That obvious, huh?" "Let's just say Sarah's never been good at hiding her feelings." He smirked. "So, what's going on?" I hesitated. Martins was my best friend, but I wasn't sure how to explain the mess I'd found myself in. "It's Isabelle," I finally admitted.

He raised an eyebrow. "The houseguest? What about her?" "Sarah thinks she's... I don't know, up to something. She's convinced Isabelle's trying to cbetween us." Martins whistled low. "That's heavy. What do you think?" "I think Sarah's overreacting," I said, though my voice lacked conviction. "Isabelle's been nothing but polite. She's had a tough life, and we're just helping her out." Martins leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You sure about that? Sometimes, the polite ones are the most dangerous." I frowned. "Con, you're not seriously buying into this, are you?" He shrugged. "I'm just saying, if Sarah's feeling this strongly, maybe there's something you're not seeing." "Like what?" "Like maybe Isabelle doesn't need to be living in your house," Martins said bluntly. "Look, you want to help her? Fine. But why not get her an apartment somewhere? That way, Sarah feels more comfortable, and Isabelle still gets support." I considered his suggestion, rubbing the back of my neck. "It's not a bad idea." "It's a great idea," he said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. "Trust me, you don't want this thing blowing up any more than it already has." By the tMartins left, I felt like I had a plan. Get Isabelle a place of her own. That would fix everything, wouldn't it? But as I walked back into the house, my confidence wavered. Isabelle was in the living room, curled up on the couch with a book. She looked so at home, like she belonged here. "Richard!" she said brightly when she saw me. "How was work?" "Fine," I said, sitting down across from her.

She closed her book, her expression softening. "You seem stressed. Is there anything I can do?" I hesitated. This was exactly what Sarah had been talking about. Isabelle's constant attention, her way of makingfeel like the center of her world.

"No, I'm good," I said quickly.

She tilted her head, studying me. "Are you sure? I hate seeing you like this." "I'm fine," I repeated, standing up. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something." Her smile faltered. "Oh?" "I think it might be a good idea for you to find a place of your own," I said carefully.

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, I thought she might cry. "A place of my own? Are you... are you askingto leave?" "Not leave," I said quickly. "Just... I think it'd be better for everyone if you had your own space. I can help you find an hotel, then an apartment, cover the rent if you need it-" "I don't understand," she interrupted, her voice shaking. "Did I do something wrong?" "No, it's not that," I said, feeling like I was on thin ice. "It's just... Sarah and I need stto work things out, and having you here makes things more complicated." She stared at me, her eyes filling with tears. "I thought we were friends, Richard. I thought you understood me." "I do," I said, though I wasn't sure I believed it anymore. "This isn't about that. It's about what's best for everyone." I didn't expect her reaction to hitso hard. She had looked so shaken like I had betrayed her in the worst possible way.

I kept telling myself this was for the best-for Sarah, for me, even for Isabelle-but guilt gnawed at my chest.

I stayed seated, rubbing my temples and waiting for the sound of her footsteps on the stairs. I thought she'd slam the door, pack her things, do something. But instead, I heard a thud.

It wasn't loud, but it was enough to send a chill down my spine. I shot up from the couch, my heart pounding. "Isabelle?" I called out, my voice tight.

No response.

I hurried up the stairs, dread coiling in my stomach. When I reached the landing, I saw her crumpled on the floor at the end of the hallway.

"Isabelle!" I rushed to her side, dropping to my knees. Her skin was pale, her breathing shallow. My chest tightened as I patted her cheek gently. "Isabelle, wake up. Can you hear me?" Her eyelids fluttered, and for a second, I thought she was coming to, but then she went limp again.

Panic surged through me. I reached for my phone, fumbling to dial emergency services, but then she stirred, her voice weak. "Richard..." I froze. "I'm here. Are you okay? What happened?" She winced, her hand brushing weakly against my arm. "I... I fainted." "Fainted?" I echoed in disbelief.

She nodded slightly, her eyes barely open. "It happens sometimes... when I'm overwhelmed." Overwhelmed? My mind raced, guilt mixing with frustration. "You should've toldif this was something serious." "I didn't think..." She paused, taking a shaky breath. "I didn't think it would happen here." I helped her sit up, leaning her back against the wall. She looked fragile, her usual confidence stripped away.

"I need to get you checked out," I said firmly. "You need to see a doctor." She shook her head, her hand clutching my sleeve. "No... I'm fine. I just need to rest." "Rest?" I repeated, exasperated. "Isabelle, you fainted! That's not normal." "It is for me," she said softly. "I've always had this... thing. Stress, exhaustion-it hitshard sometimes. That's why I can't..." She hesitated, her voice trembling. "That's why I can't live alone. What if this happens again? What if no one's there to help me?" A hotel. I'd told her to move into a hotel. What kind of person does that to someone who could faint at any moment?

"I don't know if I'll be okay," she continued, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I've been trying to hold Q.V it together, Richard, but it's hard. I thought being here... with you... it would help." I sighed, running a hand through my hair. Every instinct I had toldto get her out of the house, to fix the mess with Sarah, but now? Now I felt like a monster.

"Alright," I said finally, my voice low. "You don't have to leave. Not yet." Her eyes widened slightly, a glimmer of relief breaking through her exhaustion. "Thank you," she whispered.

"But," I added, holding her gaze, "this isn't permanent, Isabelle. We'll figure something out, but for now, you stay here and rest. Got it?" She nodded, her expression grateful.

I helped her to her room, making sure she was comfortable before leaving. As I closed the door behind me, I leaned against the wall, letting out a long, shaky breath. What had I just done?

I made my way downstairs, my head spinning. I knew Sarah wouldn't be happy about this, but what else could I do? Isabelle needed help, and I couldn't just abandon her. When I stepped into the kitchen, I froze. Sarah was there, sitting at the table, her arms crossed and her expression icy. "How long have you been home?" I asked, my voice cautious.

"Long enough," she said flatly.

"What's going on, Richard?" she asked, her tone sharp.

I hesitated, weighing my words carefully. "Isabelle fainted." Sarah raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "And?" "And..." I sighed, running a hand over my face. "She says it happens sometimes. Stress or something. I couldn't just kick her out after that." "You couldn't, huh?" Sarah's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Con, Sarah," I said, trying to keep my frustration in check. "What was I supposed to do? She needs help." "She needs help," Sarah repeated, her eyes narrowing. "And what about us, Richard? What about what we need?" Her words hithard. I wanted to argue, to defend my decision, but deep down, I knew she was right. "Sarah," I said, stepping closer. "I'm trying to handle this the best way I can." "By letting her stay?" she shot back. "Do you even realize what you're doing? You're giving her exactly what she wants." I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"She's manipulating you," Sarah said, her voice rising. "This whole fainting act-it's just another way to keep you wrapped around her finger." "That's not fair," I said, my own temper flaring. "You weren't there. You didn't see her." "I don't need to see her," Sarah snapped. "I know exactly what she's doing. And the worst part? You're letting her."