Fake Destiny

Chapter 5: Find A Way

ISABELLA'S POV

The pain in my body was unbearable as I crawled back to my chambers. My legs trembled beneath me, and each movement felt like shards of glass digging into my skin. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt this way, but the intensity of it never got easier. Every inch of my body screamed in protest, begging for relief that would never come.

I reached the bed and collapsed onto it, curling into a ball, trying to find some comfort. The sheets felt rough against my sore skin, but it was the only solace I could find.

My tears stung my eyes, but they weren’t tears of anger anymore. They were the tears of someone who had resigned to their fate, knowing that no matter how much I fought, nothing would change.

As I lay there, lost in the aching silence of my room, I couldn’t help but think about what had just happened. Every time I thought I could survive, something else would break me, something worse than the last. The sting of his words... that hurt more than anything.

His slap, though hard and unforgiving, wasn’t what broke me. It was the realization that, to him, I was nothing more than a tool, an object, a thing to use and discard.

The night replayed in my mind. The brutality, the pain, the coldness in his eyes when he looked at me. There was no tenderness, no care. There was just... him taking what he wanted, and me being forced to endure it.

I closed my eyes, hoping for a moment of peace, but it never came.

Then, the harsh light of the morning shattered the stillness of my room. I didn’t know what time it was, but I was startled by the sound of movement in the doorway.

Slowly, I forced myself to sit up, my muscles protesting every movement. My body felt like it had been run over by a truck, and the soreness was almost too much to bear.

When I looked up, my heart nearly stopped.

There, standing in the doorway, was the last person I wanted to see right now. The young master. His dark eyes were locked on mine, his expression emotionless. He stood there as if it were normal for him to appear uninvited at my window, like it was his right.

"You’re up," he said, his voice cold, distant.

I nodded quietly, the words stuck in my throat. I didn’t know what to say to him anymore. Every time I spoke, every time I tried to stand my ground, it only made things worse.

"You need to dress up," he continued, his tone sharp. "We’re going somewhere."

I blinked, confused. "W-Where?" I asked weakly, my throat still raw from the night before.

He didn’t answer me, just took a step closer, his gaze unwavering. "It’s none of your concern. Just get dressed."

I hesitated, the discomfort making it difficult to move. The last thing I wanted to do was face him, to stand in front of him when my body was so broken. But the anger in his eyes left me no choice. I didn’t want to provoke him further, not when I was already so weak.

I started to get out of bed, but the moment I stood, he was already there, a storm of fury in his eyes. He grabbed my arm, jerking me roughly toward him.

"Did I say you could take your time?" he spat.

I flinched at the venom in his words, and before I could react, his hand connected with my face, sending a sharp sting across my cheek.

The slap wasn’t what shocked me. It was his words that cut deeper, the words that sank into my heart like a blade.

"You know, I f**k you every night. What’s so special now? Why can’t you just do what you’re told?" His voice was harsh, devoid of any tenderness. It was just pure, raw contempt.

I stood there, frozen in place, not because of the slap but because of the agony in his voice. The words echoed in my mind, replaying over and over. It was like he was reminding me that I was nothing. That to him, I was just a body, a tool.

I didn’t cry because of the slap. I cried because, for a moment, I believed him. And that was the worst part. The realization that I was nothing but a plaything to him.

I wiped the tears from my face, trying to steady my breath. I didn’t want him to see me like this. I didn’t want him to know how much his words affected me. But my hands were trembling, and my heart was shattering with every breath.

Without another word, I stripped. Slowly, deliberately, I removed the clothes I had worn the night before, exposing my bruised skin to him. I felt his gaze on me, cold and calculating, as I pulled on the clothes he had demanded.

A simple dress, something plain, something easy for him to tear off later.

It was all the same now.

"Good," he muttered, not even looking at me as I finished dressing. His back was turned, but the silence between us was thick with tension. I wanted to scream at him, tell him that I wasn’t just some object for his pleasure, but I knew it would do no good. He wouldn’t care. He’d never care.

We walked downstairs together, the silence stretching between us. I could hear the sound of my bare feet on the cold marble floors, echoing through the house. When we reached the foyer, master Lorenzo, his right-hand man, was waiting for us.

Master Lorenzo was tall, imposing, with an expression that screamed disdain. He didn’t even glance at me when I entered, his eyes only on The young master. I knew how he looked at me. He despised me, just like everyone else in this world. He saw me as weak, as a liability, something that could bring down the young master’s empire. But I wasn’t stupid. I knew better.

Master Lorenzo always thought I was a weakness. That was what he told himself, but I knew the truth. I wasn’t a weakness to The young master. If I were, he would have discarded me by now. He wouldn’t keep me around if I were a weakness. But there was something more to it. Something about me kept him coming back.

But I didn’t understand it. How could someone who hated me so much, someone who used me like this, also see me as his weakness?

I didn’t know the answer, and I didn’t want to. The truth was, I didn’t care. All I wanted was to survive. I wasn’t here to please anyone, not The young master, not, master Lorenzo, not anyone. I was here because I had no other choice.

"Ready to go?" The young master's voice cut through the silence, his hand gripping mine like a vice.

I nodded, not daring to say a word. What was the point? There was nothing left for me here but to follow his orders, and that was all I could do.

But deep down, I knew one thing, whatever game they were playing, I would survive. I would find a way out somehow.