Winning Back His Ex's Wife's Broken Heart

Sarah's POV

I woke up to the smell of coffee brewing. For a moment, I thought Zara was up early, trying to impress me with breakfast.

But as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and padded down the stairs, the feeling of unease settled deep in my chest. The house was quiet-too quiet.

When I walked into the kitchen, the scene stopped me in my tracks. Isabelle stood by the counter, her back to me, gripping a knife.

She wasn't chopping vegetables or anything remotely domestic. She just stood there, the knife gleaming under the morning light. "Good morning," she said, her voice calm, almost cheerful.

My heart thudded painfully in my chest. "Isabelle?" I took a cautious step forward.

She turned slowly, and the smile on her face chilled me to the bone. "You're up early. Couldn't sleep?"

My eyes flicked to the knife in her hand. "What are you doing?"

Her smile faltered, and her grip on the knife tightened. "Thinking," she said. "About everything. About what's fair and what's not."

"Fair?" I echoed, trying to keep my tone light.

Her eyes flashed. "Yes, Sarah. Fair. Like how unfair it is that you came into Richard's life and ruined everything."

I swallowed hard, my palms sweating. "Isabelle, why don't you put the knife down? We can talk."

"Oh, we're talking," she said, her voice sharp. "I just want to make sure you hear me. Because you never listen, do you? You think you can have it all. Richard, the house, the perfect little life." She took a step closer, and I instinctively stepped back.

"I didn't take anything from you, Isabelle," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Richard was never yours."

Her face twisted in rage. "You liar! He was mine before you even existed in his world. You stole him, just like you're trying to steal everything else!"

"Sarah?" Zara's voice called from the hallway.

"Stay out of this!" Isabelle snapped, her voice slicing through the air.

Zara appeared in the doorway, her eyes widening at the sight of the knife. She quickly masked her shock with a calm smile.

"Hey, Isabelle. Why don't we all take a deep breath? It's too early for drama, don't you think?"

Isabelle's hand shook as she pointed the knife at me. "You need to leave, Sarah. Leave Richard and never come back. He doesn't need you."

I raised my hands, my voice soft. "Isabelle, I'm not going anywhere. Richard and I are together. You know that."

"No," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "You don't deserve him. He was supposed to be mine. You've ruined everything!"

Zara, still calm, reached for her phone behind her back, her fingers moving swiftly. I kept my focus on Isabelle, praying Zara was calling for help.

"Listen to me," I said, trying to reason with her. "This isn't about me or Richard. This is about you. You're hurting, and I get that, but this isn't the way to fix it."

Her laugh was bitter, full of pain. "You don't get it. You've never lost someone like I have. You don't know what it's like to love someone so much that losing them breaks you."

I took a cautious step forward, my voice softening. "You're right. I don't know what that's like. But I do know that hurting me won't bring David back."

At the mention of his name, her face crumpled, and for a moment, I thought I'd gotten through to her. But then her grip on the knife tightened, and she glared at me with renewed fury. "You don't get to say his name," she hissed.

Richard's POV

Martins and I were halfway to the study when Zara's frantic call came through.

"Richard, you need to get to the kitchen. Now," she whispered urgently.

"What's wrong?" I asked, already moving.

"Isabelle's got a knife, and she's losing it. Sarah's in there with her."

I didn't wait for Martins to respond. I sprinted down the hall, my heart pounding in my chest.

When I reached the kitchen, the sight froze me in place. Isabelle stood inches from Sarah, the knife trembling in her hand.

"Isabelle," I said sharply, stepping into the room. "Put the knife down."

Her head snapped toward me, her eyes wild. "Richard! You're here!"

Martins appeared behind me, his face pale. "Uh, this looks bad," he muttered.

"Stay out of this, Martins," I growled.

I took a cautious step forward, keeping my hands raised. "Isabelle, listen to me. This isn't you. You're not like this."

She shook her head violently, tears streaming down her face. "You don't understand, Richard. She's ruined everything! I had you, and she stole you from me."

I glanced at Sarah, who stood frozen, her face pale but determined. "Isabelle, I was never yours," I said gently.

Her face twisted with anguish. "No! You were David, and David was mine. You're supposed to be mine!"

I took another step closer to Isabelle, my voice firm. "David is gone, Isabelle. I'm not him, and I never was. You need to let go."

She shook her head, her sobs growing louder. "I can't! I can't lose you again!"

"You never had him, Isabelle," Sarah said, her voice was steady despite the fear in her eyes. "Richard was never yours. And holding onto this delusion is only hurting you." Isabelle's shoulders sagged, and for a moment, I thought she might drop the knife. But then she looked at Sarah with a venomous glare.

"She doesn't deserve you," Isabelle said, her voice trembling. "She'll never love you the way I do."

I stepped between them, my hands reaching for the knife. "Isabelle, this has to stop. Let it go."

Her grip faltered, and I seized the opportunity, gently prying the knife from her hand. She collapsed onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

Zara let out a breath of relief, leaning against the counter. "What a paycopath!"

Martins walked over to me, his face serious. "You okay?"

I nodded, though my hands were still shaking. "Call the police," I said quietly.

Martins hesitated, glancing at Isabelle's crumpled form. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes," I said firmly. "She needs help, and we can't give it to her."

Zara crossed her arms, her expression uncharacteristically somber. "Good call. She's gone too far."

As the sound of sirens grew closer, Isabelle looked up at me, her face streaked with tears. "Richard, please," she whispered. "Don't let them take me away. I love you."

I shook my head. "This isn't love, Isabelle. This is something else entirely."

When the police arrived, they escorted her out of the house, her cries echoing in the quiet morning air.

Martins broke the tension by tripping over the edge of the rug. He landed with a loud thud, groaning dramatically.

Zara burst out laughing, the sound breaking the heavy silence. "And there goes our hero," she said, wiping tears from her eyes.

Martins glared at her from the floor. "I'm okay, by the way. Thanks for asking."