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

Chapter 119 Sarah's pov.

The next day, Zoe and I spoke at length, she filledwith so many details and I really yearned to visit Mexico to see things for myself.

My business was booming and everything was going fine. Well, the figures were high, I've always looked at the stats here but hearing Zoe givethe live news was comforting.

It providedwith the sanity I needed. We sat in the living room watching a documentary but noone of us were really watching.

Martins and Richard were in the study discussing men's issues. Zara was sprawled on the couch, scrolling through her phone with a casualness that only she could manage in a moment like this. Meanwhile, Isabelle sat in the armchair by the window, her fingers tracing the edge of her mug as if lost in thought.

I had the photograph in my hand, the edges worn from how often I'd held it today. My chest tightened as I stared at it one last tbefore speaking.

"Isabelle," I started, my voice steady. "We need to talk." She looked up, her expression calm but guarded. "What about?" Zara straightened up, sensing the shift in the air. She shota quick glance, a silent you've got this.

I held up the photograph. "This." Isabelle froze, her eyes darting to the picture. She swallowed, but her calm facade didn't crack. "Where did you find that?" "Does it matter?" I shot back, my tone sharper than I intended. "I know you've been holding onto this. I know why you're here." Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she set her mug down. "You don't understand-" "Oh, I understand perfectly," I interrupted, my anger bubbling to the surface. "You're obsessed with Richard. And don't deny it because I've seen how you look at him." Zara whistled low under her breath. "How wish I was the one this is happening to," she muttered, leaning back like she was about to pounce on Isabelle.

I had begged her throughout the previous day to not confront her at all, otherwise, Zoe would have taught her a lesson.

Isabelle's eyes darted betweenand Zara before settling on me. "It's not what you think, Sarah," she said softly. "Richard... he's not just sman to me." I crossed my arms, waiting. "Then what is he?" She hesitated, her fingers clutching the armrest of the chair. "He was my fiance," she finally said, her voice trembling.

My heart didn't skip a beat, not this time. I had already pieced it together, already braced myself for her delusion.

"No, Isabelle," I said firmly. "Richard wasn't your fiance. Your fiance was David. And he's dead." Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with shock. "Don't you dare?" I stepped closer, my voice gaining strength. "David was your fiance, wasn't he? You were engaged to him, not Richard. You're just projecting your grief onto him because they look alike." Isabelle's face twisted, her lips trembling as if she were about to cry. "You don't know what you're talking about," she whispered.

"Oh, I know exactly what I'm talking about," I snapped. "Richard is my fiance. He always has been. You need to stop this delusion before it destroys what little shred of kindness I have left for you." Zara let out a low, impressed laugh. "Damn, Sarah. Way to go." Isabelle shot her a glare. "This has nothing to do with you," she hissed.

Zara stood up, crossing her arms. "Oh, it has everything to do with me. You're messing with my baby's life, and I don't take kindly to that." Richard's POV The muffled sounds of shouting reachedfrom the living room, and my stomach sank. Martins looked up from his drink, raising an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound good," he said.

I sighed, setting down my glass. "I should check on them." Martins stood. "It is your fault. I already said you should send her away." I shot him a look before heading to the door. As I approached the living room, the voices grew louder, and more heated.

"You need to leave," I heard Sarah say, her tone firm. "You're not welchere anymore." I stepped into the room just as Isabelle turned on Sarah, her face twisted with rage. "You can't makeleave! Richard wantshere. He needs me!" "What the hell is going on here?" I asked.

Everyone turned to look at me. Sarah's face was flushed with anger, while Isabelle looked like a cornered animal, her eyes darting betweenand Sarah.

"She's losing it," Sarah said, her voice trembling with frustration. "She's claiming you're her fiance." I stared at Isabelle, my heart sinking. "Isabelle, is this true?" Her lips quivered, but she straightened her back, meeting my gaze with defiance. "You don't remember, do you?" she said, her voice trembling. "You don't remember what we had." I shook my head, confusion and disbelief swirling in my mind. "We never had anything, Isabelle. You know that." Tears welled up in her eyes, but her expression remained defiant. "You've forgotten, but I haven't. You're David. You're my David." "No, Isabelle," Sarah said sharply. "David is dead. And Richard is not him." Isabelle turned to Sarah, her eyes blazing. "Shut up! You don't understand. You'll never understand!" "I understand plenty," Sarah snapped. "You're projecting your grief onto Richard, and it's not healthy. You need help, Isabelle." I stepped forward, my voice firm but gentle. "Isabelle, listen to me. I'm not David. I'm Richard. And I'm married to Sarah." She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "No. No, you're lying. You're my David." Martins appeared in the doorway, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. "Wow, an obsessed stalker," he muttered.

Zara snorted. "Can you imagine?"

I took a deep breath, my heart aching at the sight of Isabelle's pain. "I'm sorry, Isabelle," said softly. "But you can't stay here anymore. This isn't good for you or for us."

Richard she She let out a choked sob, collapsing onto the couch. "Please, whispered "Don't sendaway. I'll do better. I'll stay out of the way. Just don't makeleave." I exchanged a glance with Sarah, who nodded slightly.

"I'll find you a place to stay," I said gently. "Somewhere safe, where you can get the help you need. But you can't stay here." Isabelle's sobs grew louder, and she buried her face in her hands.

I placed a hand on Isabelle's shoulder, my voice firm, "Youth leave tomorrow morning, Isabelle. I'll make Enr sure everything is arranged." She didn't respond, instead she ran into her room.