Her handbag lay on the passenger seat, and the phone inside suddenly vibrated a few times.
She slowed down the car, steadying the steering wheel with one hand and reaching into the bag with the other to retrieve the phone, answering the call.
“Didn’t you receive the money?” Isabella asked emotionlessly.
“I got it, I got it. If there’s more work like this next time, just remember to think of me,” the voice on the other end said.
“There won’t be a next time.” Isabella stated expressionlessly, then promptly hung up the call.
She never liked dealing with these paparazzi, but many things needed their kind of people. For example, sending photos of her and James dating to Emily.
Her car moved along the smooth, spacious road, with fewer and fewer vehicles.
Finally, the car stopped in a parking lot near the church. Few worshippers were arriving at the church.
She crossed the high threshold, the church echoing with solemn bell tolls, a sound that could purify the heart.
Isabella stepped into the hall and knelt devoutly. The sound of the bells echoed in her ears one after another.
After kneeling, Isabella placed a stack of banknotes into the donation box and wrote a series of dates on a piece of paper, folding her fingers in prayer towards God. Among the dates was the day Emily had a miscarriage.
A priest in the church conducted a ritual for Emily’s child, ensuring the child would find a good family in the next life.
Isabella left the church and unexpectedly saw a tall, straight man standing beneath the statue outside.
She blinked instinctively to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. Andrew was still standing there, tall and upright.
She walked down the steps towards him and stopped in front of him. “Don’t tell me this is a coincidence.”
“I’m here to pick you up.” He looked at her, his tone deep and clear.
He had been keeping an eye on Isabella’s activities. Knowing she had been to the hospital where Emily was and then came to the church, he understood his little girl had a touch of compassion.
Isabella handed the cross in her hand to Andrew.
“I don’t believe in this.” He refused indifferently.
She didn’t insist and said to herself, “I’ve come to pray for my mother, hoping she’s happy in heaven.”
“Is that all?” Andrew’s tone was clearly skeptical. He looked at her with deep, penetrating eyes.
Under his gaze, she felt like there was nowhere to hide. She sighed lightly and said, “An unborn child is also a life. I killed him. It’s my fault.”
After listening, Andrew shook his head with a wry smile. His mate had always been a kind-hearted girl. Actually, she didn’t need to feel guilty. Even if she did nothing, Emily’s child couldn’t have been born. James wouldn’t have caused trouble if he wasn’t foolish.
“You don’t have to blame yourself. Even without you, this child wouldn’t have been born.”
Isabella’s lips forced out a faint smile, and her cold hand slipped into his warm palm. “Let’s go home.”
The two walked out of the church hand in hand, and Isabella’s car was parked in the opposite parking lot.
“Did you drive here?” she asked.
Andrew hesitated briefly before shaking his head faintly.
In reality, a driver had brought him over in a black Maybach today, which was too ostentatious and unsuitable for appearing in front of her.
“Well, then it’s perfect. Let’s ride in my car together back,” she held his hand, standing at the intersection, waiting for the signal.
When the pedestrian signal turned from red to green, the two held hands and crossed the road, entering the parking lot on the opposite side.
Coincidentally, Andrew’s Maybach was parked right next to Isabella’s car, with less than half a meter between them, and the driver was nowhere in sight.
Because the distance between the cars was too close, Isabella couldn’t even open the driver’s door. She stood by the car, feeling quite annoyed. “So what if it’s a luxury car? You can park it however you want. Might as well park it in the middle of the road.”
Listening to Isabella’s complaints, Andrew subconsciously touched his nose. This had nothing to do with him; it was the driver’s fault. When he got back to the company, he would make sure the HR department replaced the driver.
Isabella went around to the front of the black Maybach, took out her phone, and dialed the number left on the car window. The person on the other end was quite polite, hurriedly explaining it was due to an urgent need to urinate that the car wasn’t parked properly.
The driver quickly rushed over from a nearby restroom. When he saw Andrew beside the car, he was visibly stunned.
He went to the bathroom for a moment, and how did he end up bringing back a pretty lady? It couldn’t be that he picked her up on the way.
“Mr. Turner…” the driver approached, about to call someone, but was immediately silenced by a warning look from Andrew.
Having been with Andrew for a considerable time, the driver wasn’t stupid and quickly understood his intention. Keep a low profile with wealth.
“Excuse me, sir, is this your car?” Isabella, seeing the driver approaching, asked aloud.
“No, I’m just the driver.” In the presence of the car owner, the driver didn’t dare to claim the car as his own. That would just be asking for trouble. He left after parking the car.
Isabella lowered the window on one side, leaned out, and looked outside, saying enviously, “Luxury cars are indeed different; they can escape so quickly.”
Andrew remained silent; he felt this topic didn’t seem suitable for further discussion.
“Fasten your seatbelt,” he leaned over with his tall figure, shading Isabella’s head from the light. She instinctively leaned back, almost sinking into the driver’s seat.
His presence was too overpowering; each time he came closer, she felt an oppressive difficulty in breathing. Fortunately, he simply helped her fasten her seatbelt without any further action.