Chapter 7 : Sent Out

“Get her out of my sight.” Nathaniel’s voice sliced through the foyer like a blade.

Bella’s fingers tightened around the strap of her small duffel bag. The bag was too light. It held only a few clothes, just what the security allowed her to take. They’d boxed everything else away as if she were a stranger, not a wife who had lived here for years.

Four guards stood around her, forming a wall between her and the life she’d once shared with him. She kept her gaze on his shoes, because looking at his face felt like looking into fire. But she still managed a shaky breath and whispered, “Nathel… I didn’t cheat. I swear on my life.”

He flinched, but he didn’t look at her. “Don’t use my name. You lost that right.”

Bella tried to walk toward him anyway, desperate, stupidly hopeful. One of the guards stepped in front of her and blocked her path.

Nathaniel didn’t bother glancing over.

Funny. He once used to pull her close whenever she looked sad. Now he couldn’t spare her a second.

“Sir,” one of the guards murmured. “Should we escort her to the gate?”

“Just make sure she leaves,” Nathaniel replied, coldly. “She’s not to return unless I say otherwise.”

Unless he says otherwise.

As if she were a servant waiting for his command.

Bella swallowed a scream forming in her chest. Maybe if she screamed, he would finally look at her. Maybe if she broke down, he would remember he once loved her. But she held the pain behind clenched teeth. He would not see her crumble.

She lifted her chin. “Nathaniel,” she said quietly, “one day you’ll regret this.”

His jaw twitched—just barely. She saw it. A crack. A hesitation. But it lasted less than a second, and then he turned away, picking up his phone as though she was already gone.

“Take her.”

The guards moved, and the doors swung open like the gates of a prison releasing a condemned inmate. Bella stepped outside, her eyes burning from the sudden light. The mansion behind her gleamed with marble, beauty, and poison.

Don’t cry in front of them. Not even once.

She forced her feet to move down the staircase. Step by step. If she stopped, she would collapse.

Halfway down, someone else stepped into view, leaning casually against a black car parked at the front.

Marcus.

He always seemed too calm, too observant. But today, his expression shifted when he saw her bag, her pale face, the way she gripped the railing like it was the only thing keeping her alive.

“So it’s true,” he murmured, voice low. “He kicked you out.”

Bella didn’t answer. Speaking would make everything spill out, and she had nothing left to spill.

He pushed off the car and took two slow steps toward her. “Need a ride?”

Her breath caught. He looked genuinely worried. Not pitying, not calculating just concerned. It felt foreign, after everything that had happened. Only hours ago she’d been accused, insulted, almost slapped by Nathaniel’s mother. Now Marcus was offering a kindness she didn’t know how to accept.

Bella straightened. “I can get there myself.”

“Where? You didn’t take money. You don’t have your cards. You don’t even look steady enough to stand.” His gaze lingered on her trembling hands.

She hid them behind her bag. “I’ll manage.”

Marcus lifted one eyebrow, slowly dragging his eyes from her face to her stomach–subtle, but she noticed. Her heart kicked hard once, panic expanding through her veins. She wrapped an arm instinctively around her abdomen, protective.

He looked up. “You need rest. Not a bus ride. Not walking.”

Bella whispered sharply, “No one should know. Not even you.”

Marcus’s expression shifted too fast for her to read. Then he gave her a small, unreadable smile. “Secrets are safe with me. Especially yours.”

She wanted to believe him. But the Hamilton family trained their sons to smile with hidden knives.

“I don’t trust you,” she said.

His smile widened just a fraction. “Then trust that I hate my mother’s schemes as much as you do. That should be enough.”

Her breath caught again. Does he know?

Did he know that Eleanor was the one who pushed Nathaniel to doubt her? The one who showed him false evidence? The one who despised Bella from the start?

Before she could ask, Marcus gently opened the back passenger door. “I won’t touch you. I won’t speak. Just get in, I’ll take you to wherever you choose. And then I’ll disappear.”

Bella stepped back, shaky. The idea of sitting so close to a Hamilton right now made her stomach twist. She didn’t want help from them, not after what they did to her. She wanted to walk away on her own feet, with her dignity.

“Thank you,” she whispered, “but no.”

Marcus studied her a little longer, and something softened in his eyes. Not love. Not desire but respect.

He shut the door slowly. “You’re strong, Bella. That’s the first time I’ve seen someone leave this house with pride instead of tears.”

She forced a brittle smile. “You think I’m strong. I just think I have no choice.”

“That’s exactly what strength is,” he said quietly.

Her chest tightened. She didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t. She walked past him, head high, steps stiff, determined.

The guards didn’t follow, giving her space now that she had officially left the estate.

The moment she reached the outer gate, her body began trembling violently. Her vision blurred. The sunlight suddenly felt like knives scraping across her skin.

Not now.

She had to make it far away from here.

Just a little farther.

Bella took three more steps.

Her legs buckled.

Her bag slipped from her shoulder, hitting the pavement with a dull thud.

In her last conscious moment,

she heard Marcus call her name—not loud, not dramatic. Just sharp. Urgent.

Then everything went black.