Ch. 401..405: The Vampire Prince's Blindfolded Bride Chapter 401-405
Chapter 401: Izaak’s Past 1
"Your Highness, I want to know about your past," Melody said softly, her head resting against Izaak’s bare shoulder. "I’ve held back from asking for a long time, but I feel it’s time I understood that part of your life."
Izaak gently stroked her hair, his gaze meeting hers. He had always longed for someone to listen, someone with whom he could share the weight of his memories. For years, he had hesitated to speak of his past, unsure if Melody would ever need to hear it.
"My first wife," he began, his voice low, "was Arabella. She was the one who fell for me first, relentlessly pursuing me until I finally gave in. Back then, my life revolved around aiding my father in building this kingdom from the ground up. It was a dark time—the kingdom was still reeling from the endless battles we had endured. The burden of restoring it fell heavily on my shoulders."
**Flashback Begins**
"Your Highness, a rogue werewolf has been wreaking havoc in the town," Zerah informed urgently as he handed a parchment to Izaak. "There have been numerous casualties—humans, even vampires. Prince Alaric sent this message."
Izaak unfolded the parchment, his expression hardening as he read.
"This isn’t an ordinary werewolf," Zerah continued gravely. "He’s an alpha, which explains why even the vampires haven’t been able to capture him yet. His power is beyond anything we’ve faced."
"We need to act quickly. I’ll head to the forest at once to track him down," Izaak said firmly, already strategizing.
"But, Your Highness, it’s too dangerous to go unprepared. We haven’t even assembled our forces," Zerah warned, anxiety creeping into his voice.
Izaak looked out into the distance, his mind made up. "If we wait, more innocent lives will be lost. We can’t afford delay. "I can take down the werewolf easily. The sooner we find him, the better," Izaak said with unwavering confidence.
Zerah, knowing the prince’s determination, chose not to argue. He silently followed as they ventured into the forest. The woods were eerily calm, almost too peaceful, and there was no sign of the werewolf’s scent in the cold air around them.
"Your Highness," Zerah hesitated for a moment, glancing at the quiet expanse before them, "perhaps it would be better to search in the morning. We could—"
"Why don’t you stay quiet?" Izaak cut him off, his tone firm but not harsh. Without waiting for a response, he continued southward, the crisp winter air biting at their faces as the dry leaves crunched beneath his boots.
Izaak turned to Zerah, his voice low and commanding. "Stay here. I’ll go ahead."
Before Zerah could protest, Izaak vanished into the shadows, disappearing from sight. The deeper he ventured into the forest, the more the air changed. After a while, he stopped, his senses sharpening. The faint scent of blood hung in the cold air—a human’s blood.
Following the trail, Izaak soon came upon the lifeless body of a man sprawled on the ground. His eyes darkened as he knelt beside the corpse, inspecting the gruesome wound on the neck. It wasn’t a clean bite like that of a vampire—no, this was savage, brutal.
The scent lingering around the wound was unmistakable.
"A bloodthirsty alpha," Izaak murmured uder his breath. The fresh blood still glistened under the moonlight, confirming that the kill had happened not long ago.
He stood up, scanning the area for any signs of the werewolf. It was close—too close—and Izaak knew a deadly confrontation was inevitable.
Hidden behind the dense bushes, the rogue werewolf watched, its blood-red eyes gleaming with malice. Without warning, it launched itself toward Izaak in a powerful leap, its claws outstretched, ready to strike.
Izaak’s eyes narrowed as he swiftly sidestepped the attack. The werewolf was massive, larger than any he had faced before, its fur matted with grime and its teeth still stained with fresh human blood. The stench of death clung to the beast.
Snarling, the werewolf lunged again, slashing the air with its claws. But once more, Izaak dodged the blow with practiced ease, his movements swift and controlled.
"There’s no point in continuing this fight," Izaak warned, his voice cold and commanding. "Shift into your human form if you don’t want to meet your end here."
His gaze was unwavering as he faced the beast, every muscle in his body ready for the next strike, though hoping the werewolf would heed his words.
The werewolf let out a deafening growl, its roar reverberating through the trees, shaking the stillness of the forest. Izaak clenched his fists, his patience waning.
"Seems like you won’t stop until one of us is dead," he muttered under his breath, preparing for the inevitable clash.
But before the battle could resume, a sharp, feminine voice cut through the air.
"Hey! I’m going to kill you!" the voice shouted.
In the blink of an eye, an arrow whizzed through the air, striking the werewolf from behind. The beast snarled in pain, spinning around to face its attacker. A female vampire stood not far away, clutching a small bow. Her eyes gleamed with determination as she prepared for another strike.
"Why is a woman here?" Izaak muttered to himself, surprised by her sudden appearance.
As the werewolf began to charge toward her, Izaak didn’t waste a second. He moved swiftly, rushing to her side. "You shouldn’t be here!" he hissed, grabbing her arm and pulling her back just as the werewolf’s massive form barreled toward them.
As they both crashed to the ground, Izaak winced as pain shot through his back. He barely had time to register the searing agony before his eyes widened in horror—the werewolf’s massive claw was hovering just above them, ready to strike. In a split second, Izaak rolled, pulling the woman with him to dodge the deadly blow.
The werewolf, maddened and bloodthirsty, was relentless, its snarls growing louder as it prepared to end their lives.
Thinking quickly, Izaak shoved the woman aside, sending her tumbling to safety. Without hesitation, he sprang to his feet and scaled a nearby tree in a swift, fluid motion. His hands gripped a thick branch, snapping it free with a loud crack before he leapt down, landing on the forest floor with a resounding thud. The dry leaves scattered beneath him as he bolted toward the werewolf, the jagged branch now clutched tightly in his hand.
With a fierce cry, Izaak thrust the sharpened edge of the branch into the werewolf’s front leg. The creature howled in agony, staggering back, its blood staining the forest floor as it struggled to keep its balance. Izaak stood his ground, watching the werewolf writhe in pain, knowing that this might be his only chance to end the battle.
Izaak swiftly reached into his pocket, pulling out a small flask. Prying off the cork, he wasted no time. With a firm grip, he forced the werewolf’s snarling mouth open and poured the liquid down its throat. The werewolf thrashed violently at first, but Izaak held his ground, his expression cold and focused.
Once the flask was empty, Izaak tossed it aside, watching as the werewolf’s movements began to slow. Its furious growls weakened, and its blood-red eyes gradually fluttered shut. With a final, pained groan, the massive beast collapsed to the ground as he fainted.
Breathing heavily, Izaak stepped back, surveying the scene.
"It’s over for now," Izaak muttered to himself, his eyes still locked on the werewolf, ensuring it wouldn’t rise again.
The female vampire stepped closer, her eyes flashing with determination. "I will kill him now," she declared, her hand reaching for a weapon.
Izaak turned sharply, his glare cold and piercing as he faced her. "This region is forbidden," he said, his voice laced with fury. "Yet, you dare to come here. Do you have any idea how your foolishness nearly got us killed?"
"Who are you to stop me from coming here? My father died because of this beast!" the woman shrieked, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her cheeks.
Izaak’s expression remained impassive, unmoved by her sorrow. "Vampires don’t cry," he remarked coldly, his lack of sympathy cutting deep. The woman’s anger flared in response. Without thinking, she raised her hand to strike him, but Izaak swiftly caught her wrist mid-air.
"Watch where you’re swinging your hand!" Izaak’s voice was low and dangerous, his grip firm. "I am no ordinary man, but Izaak Lukeson, the eldest Vampire Prince."
The woman’s eyes widened in shock, realization dawning on her as his name sank in. She quickly withdrew her hand from his grasp, her defiance replaced by fear.
"I—I apologize, Your Highness," she stammered, bowing her head in guilt. "Please, don’t punish me," she begged, her voice trembling as she realized the gravity of her actions.
"Your Highness! I’ve brought our men!" Zerah shouted from the other side.
~~~~
Chapter 402: Izaak’s Past 2
Arabella, the woman Izaak had been avoiding ever since their first encounter, had become the source of his growing unease. From the moment he arrived in town, she relentlessly sought opportunities to cross his path.
For days, Izaak managed to ignore her persistent efforts, but on the day of his departure, fate played a cruel trick. His carriage broke down unexpectedly, bringing his plans to a sudden halt.
"Your Highness, we will arrange another carriage promptly," Zerah informed Izaak as he stepped out, his expression darkened with frustration.
Just then, Arabella appeared, her presence as timely as ever. "Oh no! The carriage broke down?" she exclaimed, casting a glance toward Izaak, her eyes lingering on him longer than he would have liked. "The inn where His Highness was staying is quite far from here. My house is nearby. Why not come rest while my brother arranges a new carriage for you?" she offered with a bright, eager smile.
Before Zerah could respond, Izaak cut in sharply. "That won’t be necessary. I’ll wait here. Zerah, you can return and see to the arrangements for another carriage," he stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. Izaak had no intention to stay around this woman.
"But, Your Highness, it isn’t right for you to stand out here. As your loyal subject, I can’t bear the thought of you enduring any discomfort," Arabella insisted, her voice laced with concern.
Izaak’s eyes narrowed. "Then why don’t you listen to your Prince?" he retorted coldly. "As a loyal subject, shouldn’t you leave my sight and cease troubling me?"
Zerah shifted his gaze from Izaak to Arabella, sensing the tension in the air. "Your Highness," he began cautiously, "Lady Arabella is not a bother. The sky looks threatening, and it could rain any moment. I believe we should take shelter at the lady’s house."
Just as Zerah finished speaking, a rumble of thunder echoed overhead, and the dark clouds grew heavier. Reluctantly, Izaak sighed. He had no desire to be soaked in a downpour. With an irritated glance at Arabella, he nodded curtly. "Very well. Lead the way."
Arabella smiled triumphantly and led the way to her grand estate. As they arrived, Izaak couldn’t help but notice the opulence of her surroundings. It became immediately clear that Arabella came from an elite family of vampires. The house butler, along with a line of impeccably dressed servants, stood ready to greet him as though they had been expecting his arrival for some time.
The moment they crossed the threshold, the skies opened up, and heavy rain began to pour outside.
"It seems we made the right choice, Your Highness," Zerah whispered with a subtle smile, glancing at the storm outside.
Izaak remained silent, his expression indifferent, and continued walking ahead, his eyes scanning the elaborate decor until they reached a grand living hall. The high ceilings and ornate furnishings added to the sense of aristocratic grandeur, but none of it impressed him.
"Please, Your Highness, make yourself comfortable," Arabella gestured gracefully toward a luxurious velvet sofa. She then turned to Zerah with a polite smile. "You as well, sir, please take a seat."
Zerah nodded, but Izaak remained standing for a moment longer, his gaze lingering on Arabella before finally taking a seat, his demeanor was still cold and unreadable.
After Izaak took his seat, Arabella’s brother hurried into the room, his expression one of eager respect. "It is an honor to have Prince Izaak here," he said, bowing slightly before lifting his head. "I am Frederick Larson."
"I remember you, Frederick," Izaak replied, his gaze unwavering. "You came to express your gratitude a few days ago. I didn’t intend to trouble your family, but the carriage broke unexpectedly." His eyes shifted to Arabella. "Your sister was rather insistent that I come here."
Frederick smiled warmly. "Your Highness, it’s no trouble at all. In fact, we consider ourselves fortunate to have the opportunity to serve you."
As the rain continued to pound against the windows, Frederick added, "With the weather as it is, I believe His Highness should remain here until the rain passes. In the meantime, you are welcome to rest in one of our guest rooms."
Izaak hesitated, his sharp gaze flicking toward the windows where the rain fell heavily. After a brief silence, he nodded, though it was clear he remained guarded. "Very well," he agreed. "I shall wait."
Izaak rose from his seat and followed Frederick through the grand hallways of the mansion. Meanwhile, Arabella busied herself with arranging refreshments, specifically a blood drink for Izaak, and instructed the head maid to prepare it promptly. Zerah was led to another guest room by a servant, leaving Izaak in the company of Frederick.
Once inside the well-furnished guest room, Izaak surveyed his surroundings briefly before making himself comfortable. "Thank you, Frederick," he said, his voice polite but distant.
Frederick bowed slightly. "Your Highness, the pleasure is mine. I’ll leave you to rest for a while. If you need anything, do not hesitate to call for me." With that, he gave a respectful nod and exited the room.
Izaak had just settled into the recliner when the door creaked open. His eyes flickered toward the entrance, unsurprised to find Arabella standing there, a tray balanced in her hands.
"You knock first and then ask if you’re allowed to enter," Izaak remarked, his voice calm yet edged with irritation as he remained reclined.
Arabella gave a small bow, her expression apologetic but unwavering. "My apologies, Your Highness. It nearly slipped my mind," she responded smoothly before setting the tray down on the table.
She lifted the goblet, filled to the brim with fresh human blood, and held it out to him. "Please, Your Highness, have this. It will help you feel better."
Izaak’s eyes narrowed slightly, his fingers tapping the armrest of the recliner as he contemplated her for a moment. Without a word, he accepted the goblet from her hand, though his gaze lingered on Arabella with suspicion.
"You were behind that, weren’t you?" Izaak asked, his tone sharp and accusatory.
Arabella blinked, feigning confusion. "What does His Highness mean?" she asked, her gaze wide and innocent.
In an instant, Izaak was on his feet, the goblet forgotten as he moved faster than human eyes could track. He pinned Arabella against the wall, his cold hand gripping her neck—not harshly enough to hurt, but firm enough to make his point. His icy gaze locked onto hers, unwavering.
"Arabella," he said, his voice low and menacing, "you can’t fool me. For more than a week, you’ve been scheming, trying to catch my attention, to make me look at you." His fingers tightened slightly, his eyes narrowing. "Do you honestly believe the carriage broke down near your house by coincidence?"
Her expression faltered for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure, still playing the innocent.
Izaak’s lips curled in a bitter smile. "It’s clear you haven’t understood my answer yet. Let me make it crystal clear—I’m not interested in you. No amount of scheming will change that."
Arabella’s breath hitched, her eyes widening as the full weight of his words—and his rejection—sank in. She had miscalculated, and now the game was no longer in her favor.
"Why? Am I that hateful?" Arabella’s voice wavered as she looked up at him, her vulnerability beginning to show. "I’ve always been told I’m beautiful. Does His Highness find me ugly?" she asked, her tone filled with desperation.
Izaak chuckled softly, a cold amusement glinting in his eyes. "You really don’t understand, do you?" he said, slowly withdrawing his hand from her neck.
But before he could step away, Arabella grabbed the collar of his overcoat, pulling him close with surprising force. Her eyes burned with intensity as she confessed, "I like Prince Izaak. Is it so wrong to confess love openly? I fell for you the day you fought that werewolf in the forest. Every day since, I get restless, longing for just a single glance of you."
For the first time, her words carried a raw honesty that struck Izaak, but his expression remained as cold and unreadable as ever. He reached for her hands, intending to pull them away from his collar. Before he could, Arabella closed the distance, rising onto her toes and pressing her lips against his.
Her kiss was urgent, filled with all the longing and emotion she had been holding back. Izaak froze for a moment, taken aback by her boldness. Arabella was different, far bolder than the others who had tried to win his favor.
For a split second, he considered pushing her away. But something in the way she kissed him stirred a part of him he hadn’t expected. A warmth spread through his chest, and despite his mind’s resistance, his body responded.
Without thinking, Izaak found himself returning the kiss, allowing the moment to sweep him away as the intensity of her emotions overwhelmed them both. His hand cradled her neck once again as he deepened the kiss this time.
Chapter 403: Izaak’s Past 3
"You got married?" Magnus arched his brows, a mix of surprise and curiosity playing on his face as he met Izaak for the first time in six months since returning to Velaris.
Izaak’s expression turned into an annoying one. "Are you here to rub salt on my wounds? Why didn’t you attend my wedding?"
Magnus crossed his legs as he rested casually on the chair. "I wasn’t in the kingdom, remember? You could’ve waited for your youngest brother to return. But no, you rushed into marriage. Why so soon?" He shook his head, his annoyance barely concealed. "You, of all people, are notoriously hard to please."
Izaak chuckled, a grin spreading across his face. "That’s more like you, Magnus. Me? My heart has always been quick to fall for a woman. Arabella was the one. She went out of her way to win my heart." His grin widened mischievously as he added, "And then, we spent a night together. I felt I should marry her because I don’t sleep with a woman for fun."
Magnus frowned, his gaze hardening. "Don’t tell me that’s the only reason you married her."
Izaak’s smile faltered, his brow furrowing as he met Magnus’s eyes. "What do you mean by that?"
Magnus leaned forward, his tone more serious now. "I mean, tell me what love really is to you, Izaak."
Izaak scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. "Don’t ask me about something you don’t even understand yourself, Magnus. I’m your older brother. I have more experience in matters of the heart than you do."
Magnus’ eyes narrowed, unimpressed with his brother’s response. "Experience or not, Izaak, rushing into marriage isn’t always a sign of wisdom. And marrying someone because of one night? That doesn’t sound like love to me."
Izaak’s frown deepened, his confidence slightly shaken by Magnus’s words. "You think I don’t know my own heart? I’ve been through this enough times to recognize when it’s real."
Magnus, though still unconvinced, softened his tone. "I just hope it’s not something you’ll regret. It’s my time to return to Elmswood." He rose to his feet when Arabella suddenly entered the room.
"Your Highness, I heard Prince Magnus is here, so I’ve come to give him my greetings," Arabella said, her voice soft but confident as her eyes met Magnus’s sharp gaze.
"Greetings to you, Sister-in-law," Magnus replied, his tone formal. "I am Magnus Lukeson." He bowed slightly in respect, maintaining a composed expression as he straightened up. Arabella returned the gesture with equal humility, her lips curling into a polite smile.
Izaak rose from his seat and moved to stand beside her, a subtle but protective gesture. As Magnus met Arabella’s gaze, he involuntarily read her mind—something he wasn’t expecting to know.
"I’ve heard from Brother Izaak how you went to great lengths to win his heart," Magnus said, his words measured, but with an underlying hint of curiosity.
Arabella smiled gracefully and tilted her head slightly toward Izaak, her eyes sparkling with affection. "Indeed, I had no other way to make Prince Izaak notice me," she replied softly, her tone carrying a touch of playful sincerity. "Sometimes, persistence is the only path."
Magnus observed her carefully, his instincts sensing there was more beneath the surface of her words. Still, he offered a small nod. "I can see that your efforts were not in vain," he remarked, his eyes flicking between the two of them. "You’ve certainly captured his attention."
Izaak sensed something off in Magnus’s behavior and narrowed his eyes. "Aren’t you getting late?" he asked, trying to break the tension.
Magnus nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Yes, I am. Will you see me out?"
"Of course," Izaak replied, casting a brief glance at Arabella. "Wait for me here."
"See you soon, Sister-in-law," Magnus said, offering Arabella a gentle bow before turning to leave.
Arabella watched them depart, her calm demeanor wavering slightly as she turned to her personal attendant. "Why didn’t you inform me about Prince Magnus’s arrival?" she asked, a hint of frustration in her voice.
The attendant bowed her head in apology. "Your Highness, no one knew he would come. His visit was unexpected."
Arabella’s expression faltered, and she bit her lip nervously. "I’ve heard rumors... that Prince Magnus can read minds. Is it true?"
The attendant hesitated before answering, her voice low. "Yes, Your Highness. It’s said that he has such an ability."
Arabella’s heart raced as her mind spiraled. ’I hope he didn’t read mine,’ she thought, panic gnawing at her. ’But Izaak loves me. He will always believe me... Why did I even come here? It’s as if I’m throwing an axe at my own feet.’
As they approached the carriage, Magnus halted and turned to face Izaak with a serious expression. "I hope you stop fooling yourself," he began, his voice steady but with an underlying weight. "You really need to understand what love is. And your wife, Arabella—she has some hidden motives as well."
Izaak’s brow furrowed deeply, confusion and a hint of irritation crossing his face. "What do you mean by that?" he demanded.
Magnus didn’t hesitate. "I can read minds, Brother. Arabella wants you to take over the throne."
"That’s absurd!" Izaak retorted, his voice rising defensively. "She’s not that kind of woman. Arabella is free of greed and—"
Magnus cut him off sharply. "Great! Don’t listen to me, then." His tone was biting, eyes narrowing as he read Izaak’s disbelief. "I’ve told you what I know, and I won’t force you to believe it. But don’t say I didn’t warn you."
Izaak opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. The idea that Arabella, the woman he had fallen for so deeply, could harbor such ambitions felt impossible. But Magnus’s words planted a seed of doubt that would be hard to ignore.
As the coachman closed the carriage door, Magnus leaned out of the window, his expression stern yet almost sympathetic toward his elder brother.
"Izaak, I never misread minds," Magnus spoke firmly, his words deliberate. "You should start paying attention, find out what Arabella is truly up to. And another thing—you told me earlier that you never had a vision about her. Are you absolutely sure she’s your destined mate?"
"I am," Izaak replied immediately, his voice steady, though doubt flickered in his mind. He wanted—needed—to believe in his love for Arabella more than anything else. He pushed aside the nagging uncertainty, unwilling to let Magnus’s words shake him further. "Go safely," he added, trying to close the conversation.
Magnus nodded but held Izaak’s gaze for a moment longer, as if silently urging him to reconsider. Then, with a final look, the carriage rolled forward, leaving Izaak standing alone, grappling with the unsettling thoughts in his mind.
Chapter 404: Izaak’s Past 4
More than eight months had passed since Izaak last spoke with Magnus. At the time, Magnus had shared troubling information about Arabella, but Izaak had dismissed it, refusing to let it weigh on him—until two months ago, when his wife began acting strangely.
As the eldest prince, Izaak was destined to inherit the throne. However, he had no desire to ascend through deceit or conflict with his father. He had always envisioned a smooth and honorable transition, not one marred by tricks or tension.
He lifted the wine goblet in his hand, gazing at the red liquid before bringing it closer to his lips for a sip.
"Your Highness, forgive my intrusion," came Zerah’s voice from the doorway, carrying a tone of unease. "But there’s something urgent you must know."
Izaak lowered the goblet and set it on the table. "What is it?" he asked, his gaze shifting to Zerah.
Zerah hesitated for a moment, his expression troubled. "There was... an altercation, Your Highness. Between Her Highness and your mother."
Izaak’s eyes narrowed, irritation creeping into his voice. "Stop stalling and speak plainly."
Zerah swallowed hard, glancing down before continuing. "Princess Arabella... she nearly pushed your mother. It looked as if she meant to, though she stopped herself just in time."
Izaak’s jaw tightened and he left the chair. "Bring me the dagger," he said.
"What?" Zerah exclaimed as a horrific expression surrounded his face.
Izaak’s jaw clenched as he rose from the chair. "Bring me the dagger," he ordered in his sharp voice.
Zerah’s eyes widened in shock. "What?" he stammered, horror creeping into his expression.
"I said, bring me the dagger," Izaak repeated, his tone firmer, leaving no room for disobedience.
Zerah hurried out to fulfill the command, sensing the gravity of the situation. As Izaak stood there, he felt the weight of his decision settle over him. "Magnus was right," he muttered, his voice barely audible, filled with bitter resignation. "I never loved her. I was only infatuated. It’s time to remove this woman from my life."
Moments later, Zerah returned to the private chamber, carefully handing Izaak the dagger. "Here it is, Your Highness," he said, his voice shaking slightly.
Izaak gripped the hilt tightly, his resolve unshaken. He moved toward the door, Zerah trailing behind him, worried about what might unfold. As Izaak pushed aside the heavy curtains, he stepped into the room to find Arabella conversing with her attendant.
"What did you say to my mother?" Izaak demanded as he stopped a few steps from her.
The attendant quickly bowed and scurried away, sensing the growing tension. Arabella, startled, rose from the recliner and, without hesitation, rushed toward Izaak, wrapping her arms around him in a desperate embrace.
"Your mother insulted my late mother," she said, her voice laced with indignation. "How could she say such things? Can’t she even respect the dead?"
Izaak’s eyes darkened as he forcefully pushed her away, her embrace unraveling in an instant. Arabella stumbled back, her face etched with shock.
"Did you ever love me, Arabella?" His voice was cold, laced with accusation.
Arabella blinked, utterly confused by the question. "What kind of question is that?" she asked, staring at him with wide eyes, her confusion quickly giving way to fear.
"Who do you think you are to raise your filthy hand against my mother?" Izaak’s voice trembled with barely contained fury, his grip tightening around the dagger. "Do you think I’m a fool? That I’d fall for your lies? I trust my mother more than anyone in this world. Now, tell me the truth, Arabella. Why did you really marry me?"
His tone was cold, each word seething with rage. Zerah sensing the dangerous edge in Izaak’s voice, quietly slipped out of the room. He knew Izaak’s anger was far more dangerous than his kindness and could not be allowed to escalate. His decision was swift—to fetch the Queen before things went too far.
Left alone with Izaak, Arabella’s heart raced, but she forced herself to remain calm. She couldn’t afford to show fear. Not now. Meeting his gaze with unwavering confidence, she said, "Izaak, I don’t know who has been feeding you such lies, but I never raised my hand to harm your mother. I only confronted her because she insulted my late mother, and I defended my family’s honor."
Her voice softened, a touch of vulnerability creeping in as she took a cautious step closer to him. "As for love... I have always loved you, and I always will. You know this better than anyone."
Arabella’s hand trembled as she placed it on Izaak’s chest, her eyes wide with fear. "Izaak, I—" Her voice cut off abruptly as his grip tightened around her throat, choking off her breath.
"I warned you not to test my patience!" Izaak snarled, his voice a low, dangerous growl. His fangs bared, eyes blazing with anger. "I wanted honesty, but instead, you fed me lies. I was a fool to believe there was ever love between us. All you ever wanted was power!"
He shoved her roughly, sending her crashing into the recliner. As Arabella’s eyes darted to the dagger in his hand, terror took hold of her.
"No!" she cried, turning to flee, but Izaak was faster, grabbing her by the neck and pulling her back toward him.
"It’s time you leave my life forever," he declared coldly, tightening his grip as Arabella gasped for air, her strength failing her. The attendant, too terrified to intervene, bolted from the room to seek help.
"I’ll leave you... Don’t—don’t kill me, Izaak," Arabella begged as she fought to speak through the crushing hold on her throat.
"So, you admit it. You never loved me," Izaak said, his voice icy. "Say it. Tell me the truth!"
Arabella’s eyes filled with desperation as she rasped, "Forgive me."
Izaak’s expression turned dark, his voice dripping with finality. "Too bad, Bella. I don’t forgive. I kill."
Without hesitation, he plunged the dagger deep into her chest, piercing her heart. Arabella gasped, blood spilling from her mouth and staining Izaak’s clothes. Her body convulsed as she clung to life for mere seconds before going still, her skin paling as death claimed her.
"Izaak!" The Queen’s horrified voice echoed through the room as she entered just in time to witness the killing. But it was too late—Arabella’s body hit the ground with a lifeless thud, her heart pierced completely.
"That’s for making a mockery of my feelings... and disrespecting my mother," Izaak muttered coldly before turning to leave the room.
"Dispose of her," he ordered Zerah, his voice filled with disdain, before walking out, fury still burning in his veins.
Chapter 405: Izaak’s Past 5
Izaak’s first marriage ended in failure, but it wasn’t his last. Under his parents’ pressure, he married again, hoping for a different outcome. Yet, the same cycle repeated. Each time, he poured his heart into the relationship, only to be betrayed in the end. After Arabella’s betrayal, Izaak’s despair turned deadly. He murdered both his second wife, Rienna, and his third wife, Zaria.
For so many years, Izaak swore off marriage, avoiding any chance of further heartache. But then he met Roseline, his fourth wife, who, like the former two, was chosen by his parents. However, Roseline was different—she comforted him in ways his previous wives never had. For the first time in years, Izaak believed he might finally find the happiness and family he had longed for.
Roseline gave him everything he had been denied by the others: warmth, affection, and a sense of stability. But little did Izaak know that Roseline would shatter his heart in a way more brutal than any of her predecessors.
"Izaak, it’s been so many years since your marriage. Have you thought about starting a family?" Queen Margaret asked, her voice carrying both curiosity and subtle pressure.
"Mother," Izaak sighed, "I was hesitant at first, unsure if this marriage would be any different from the others. But now... it feels like Roseline truly is the one for me."
Queen Margaret smiled softly. "Indeed, Roseline is unlike the others. She has never demanded anything from you, never shown even a hint of selfishness. You complement each other well. Your father was even considering passing you the crown once your wife is with child."
Izaak shifted uncomfortably at the mention of the throne. "Father is still a capable ruler. There’s no need for him to step down so soon."
"It’s your father’s decision," Queen Margaret insisted. "He’s ruled for many years and I believe he longs for rest, for a quieter life."
Izaak offered a polite smile. "I still have much to learn before I can take on such a responsibility." He stood up, his demeanor respectful but ready to end the conversation. "I should take my leave now. Roseline should be back by now."
Queen Margaret’s brow lifted slightly. "She went to her family home?"
"Yes," Izaak replied.
"Hmm," Queen Margaret murmured. "You should go then."
With a respectful nod, Izaak took his leave from his mother’s chambers and made his way to his own. When he entered, he found Roseline already waiting for him, her posture poised yet graceful. As soon as she saw him, she rose from her seat and offered a formal bow, her movements fluid and elegant.
"You took a while to return today," Izaak remarked, his tone calm but inquisitive. "Is everything alright with your family?"
Roseline straightened up, her hands clasped in front of her as she met his gaze briefly before lowering her eyes again. "Yes, everything is well at home," she replied softly. "I ended up spending more time with my mother than I had intended. We were caught up in conversation, and before I knew it, the hours had passed." She paused, her voice softening further as she added, "I apologize to His Highness for my tardiness."
Her eyes remained downcast, her gesture one of both respect and remorse. She seemed genuinely apologetic, the way her delicate fingers fidgeted slightly betraying her nervousness.
Izaak observed her for a moment, noting the sincerity in her words and the grace with which she presented herself. While her apology was formal, there was an unspoken tenderness in her demeanor, something that made his heart soften.
Izaak stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and gently wrapped his arms around Roseline, pulling her into a warm embrace. "It’s fine, Rose. You don’t need to apologize for something so small," he murmured softly, his voice laced with affection. As he held her close, he pressed a tender kiss to her earlobe, then moved to her cheek, his lips brushing gently across her skin. His kisses trailed down to her jaw, lingering briefly before making their way toward her neck.
Roseline gently placed a hand on his chest, stopping him before he could go further. "Your Highness, I’m not clean yet," she whispered, her voice soft but firm. "I need to take a bath first since I just returned from outside."
Izaak paused, his lips hovering near her neck as he considered her words. After a moment, a playful smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "I was outside today as well," he pointed out, his tone light yet suggestive. "Why don’t we share a bath together? We haven’t done that in such a long time."
As Izaak brushed the stray strands of Roseline’s hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering softly against her skin, she hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"Umm... I would love to, but I would prefer some time alone in the bathhouse. I hope His Highness doesn’t mind," she said gently, her eyes meeting his with a hint of apology, yet maintaining her graceful poise.
Izaak looked at her with understanding, his affection never wavering. "I don’t mind," he replied with a soft smile, though a touch of disappointment lingered beneath his calm exterior.
As he moved to step back, his eyes caught sight of something unexpected—a red bruise peeking out from beneath the fabric of her dress, just above her shoulder. His brow furrowed slightly in concern, and before he could stop himself, he reached out to touch it. "What’s this?" he asked, his fingers grazing the mark.
Before he could receive an answer, Roseline leaned forward swiftly and pressed her lips against his in a sudden kiss, cutting off any further questions. The unexpected gesture startled Izaak, but her touch was soft and deliberate, drawing his attention away from the bruise. For a moment, he stood frozen in surprise, his thoughts disrupted by the warmth of her kiss.
Breaking away just enough to speak, Roseline looked into his eyes, her voice playful yet layered with intention. "Tonight... I want to share the night with His Highness. I hope he’s ready for that," she said in a teasing tone, a smile playing on her lips.
"Yes, I’m ready," Izaak said with a smile while his heart thumping loudly against his chest.