His Spoiled Reborn Bride

17 My Husband

Isabel woke in the weak pink light of early morning with a warm arm wrapped around her waist. She blinked and looked around at the large gray room—the pale sun slanted through a gap in the curtains and a burgundy duvet was pulled up to her chin. She was in Howard’s room, but how had she gotten there? The last thing she remembered was falling asleep on the sofa in her room.

She wiggled her body, trying to escape from Howard’s tight embrace, but his arm only pulled her closer. He buried his face in her hair and murmured something against the back of her neck.

“Hmm?” she asked.

“Don’t get up,” he murmured, his voice thick from sleep.

“It’s morning,” she said.

“Then let’s sleep in,” he said.

His arm pulled her even closer, pressing her back into the warmth of his broad chest. His hot breath tickled the nape of her neck and she shivered and squirmed. It felt way too intimate being in bed with him—he was more or less a stranger. His hand snaked around her front and he traced soft circles on her stomach.

“How do you feel?” he asked. “Are you in pain?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “But I’m confused. I must have slept like fifteen hours.”

“You did sleep a long time,” he said.

His hand slid up from her stomach toward the bottom of her chest. The backs of his fingers brushed the bottom of her breasts and she shivered and clamped her hand on top of his.

“Really,” she said. “It’s time to get up.”  

“Okay,” Howard murmured, releasing his grip on her. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t you have to go to work?” she asked, turning to look at him.

His eyes were closed and he shrugged, “I’m not in any rush.”

“Okay,” she said. She slithered away from him and sat at the edge of the bed. “By the way, did anything happen yesterday?”

“What do you mean?” Howard asked, his voice suddenly alert with suspicion.

“I mean did anyone come here,” she said.

“No,” Howard said. “No visitors.”

She put her bare feet onto the soft, carpeted floor, “I see.”

“Why do you ask?” he asked.

“Oh, no reason,” she said.

She crossed the room and headed towards the door. All of her clothing was in her own room and she wanted to get dressed. As she walked down the long hall she thought about Howard’s words. She had doubted Noah when he said the police were coming, but a part of her had wondered if they’d really show up. She should have known that the police would never dare to intrude on the Denmark family estate like that.

She dressed in slim-fitting black pants, cropped stylishly at the ankle, and a white shirt. Then she sat at the vanity and scrubbed at the chipped black polish on her fingernails. The smell of acetone filled the room and she coughed as she scrubbed at the stubborn polish.

“Be ready to go in two hours,” Howard said from the door.

“Go where?” she asked.

“Your family’s house,” he answered.

She dropped the cotton she was using and turned to stare at him, “You’re coming with me?”

“I am,” he nodded.

“But—” she objected.

“I’m coming,” he said, his voice flat and final. “The car will be ready for us in two hours.”

He walked away, leaving her in shock. Why did he want to come to see her family? It would be much better for everyone involved if he just stayed away. She bit her lip and scrubbed her fingernails even harder. Visiting her family together would be fine if they were a normal, happily married couple, but they weren’t. As far as she knew, his family objected to the marriage too and they refused to stay under the same roof as her.

After painting her nails with a clear polish she applied mascara and a light tint to her lips and brushed her hair back. Then she paced the room checking the time on her phone. A sudden idea struck her and she unlocked the phone and scrolled through the contacts—she smiled when she saw the name of an old high school friend and began to type a message.

She reread the message and felt herself blush: “Hey, it’s Isabel. I know we haven’t talked in a while but I was wondering if you had Sophia’s number. Thanks!” The last time she’d spoken to this girl, she’d insulted her. She hit send and stared at the screen, willing the girl to respond.

Moments later the phone pinged and she read the message, “Hope you want it to apologize.”

“I do,” she wrote back.

The girl responded with Sophia’s number and Isabel’s hands shook as she typed the message: “Hey, Sophia. It’s Isabel. I know I have so much to apologize for and I don’t expect you to forgive me any time soon, but if you could tell me where Maria and Samuel are living I’d be really grateful.”   

Ten agonizing minutes later Sophia replied, “Why do you want to know?”

“I want to visit them,” she wrote. “I need to apologize and try to make things right.”

“Fine, here’s the address,” Sophia wrote. “But I swear if you do anything else to upset them, I’ll find a way to make you pay. I don’t care whose wife you are now.”

“I won’t,” she wrote back.

She looked at the address and winced. It was in a terrible neighborhood. She thought of her kind-hearted stepmother living in that horrible, blighted place and tears filled her eyes. It was her fault, after all.

Each minute felt like an hour and each hour felt like a day as she waited for the car. When she finally slipped into the backseat, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Howard, can we please make a stop on the way?” she asked.

“What?” he asked.

“I want to check in on Maria and Samuel,” she said. “Maria is my stepmother and Samuel is my brother, well, half-brother. You haven’t met them.”

“Give Levi the address,” he said.

“Really you’re okay with it?” she asked.

He nodded and unfolded a newspaper, disappearing behind the black and white sheets of paper. She watched him for a moment and showed Levi the address on her phone. Then she settled back into the plush seat and stared out the window. Though the ride lasted an hour, Howard only looked away from his newspaper once.

She ignored him and stared anxiously out the window, watching as the verdant countryside gave way to suburban brick houses. Slowly, the large houses became smaller and dingier and then they gave way to shabby apartment blocks. Weeds pushed their way through the cracked pavement and sagging chainlink fences surrounded ruined, condemned buildings. The car stopped outside of a shabby apartment building covered in peeling paint and rust stains.

“We’re here,” Levi said.

Isabel wiped her palms on her legs and turned to Howard, “You prepared gifts for my uncle, right? I saw Levi carrying something to the car.”

Howard nodded.

“They don’t need presents,” she said. “I’d prefer to give them to my stepmother.”

Howard shrugged and reached for the door handle.

“No,” she said. “Wait in the car for me. I’ll only be ten minutes.”

Howard looked at the obscene graffiti scrawled across the front of the building and the broken glass on the sidewalk and shook his head. “No, I’m coming with you,” he said.

The gate of the apartment building was rusted and sharp and the stairs were narrow, dark and damp. Graffiti covered the walls and the smell of stale cigarette smoke hung thick in the air. A broken fluorescent light buzzed and flickered and Isabel ran up the stairs as fast as she could. On the sixth floor, she walked down a dark hallway and stopped in front of a door marked 611. Her hand trembled as she knocked.

“Who is it?” called a male voice inside.

She dropped her hand wondering if she’d gotten the wrong door. From the other side she heard the scraping of a lock and then the clinking of a chain and the door cracked open. A tall, skinny teenage boy looked out at her.

“Isabel?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“Samuel, is that you?” she asked.

The last time she’d seen him he was ten years old, but now he was a full blown teenager. He towered over her, looking awkward and confused.

“Um, do you want to come in?” he asked.

She nodded and swallowed against the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat.

“Who is it?” Maria’s voice called.

“You’re going to want to see this for yourself, Mum,” Samuel shouted back.

Maria appeared from behind a door and froze when she saw Isabel.

“I can’t believe my eyes,” she murmured.

Isabel looked down at her feet, ashamed and embarrassed. She was sure Maria would start yelling at her, blaming her for everything she’d done. She knew she deserved it, but she was embarrassed to have Howard there to see it.  

“Well,” Maria finally said. “Come in and take a seat. Sorry, it’s not very big, but we can fit. ”

For the first time, Isabel took a look at the room. The carpet was shabby and worn down to nothing in some places and the curtains were limp and dingy gray from over-washing. Paint bubbled on the wall and water stains splotched the ceiling. The furniture was old and collapsed and a small TV rested in a corner.

“Go make some tea, Samuel,” Maria said.   

Isabel sank onto the sofa and felt a spring jab her thigh. Her stomach twisted and her eyes filled with tears. Their poverty was her fault. Howard sat down next to her and Levi hovered by the door.

Samuel reappeared with a chipped plastic tray and several mugs filled with bargain brand black tea. Isabel took a mug and sipped the tea.

“Sorry about the tea,” Maria said. “It’s all we have.”

“No it’s perfect,” Isabel said. “But please sit down, Maria. And you too Samuel.”

Maria looked between Howard and Isabel and then sat on the very edge of a wooden chair.

“I’m sorry,” Isabel said. “I didn’t introduce you. This is Howard Denmark, my husband. We got married a few days ago. And the man by the door is Levi, Howard’s assistant.”