CHAPTER 2
1205 Words
Isla
The air was crisp as I stepped out of my car, the scent of damp earth filling my lungs. My body felt numb, but my mind wouldn’t stop spinning.
Luca. Rosie. The betrayal. It clung to me like a second skin, impossible to peel away.
I closed the car door softly, my hands still trembling from the weight of what I had just witnessed. As I stepped out of the car, I caught a better sight of my neighbor, Miss Tilda.
She was in her mid-thirties, stunning in a way that made people pause. Her honey-brown hair cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders, and her hazel eyes held a warmth that could disarm even the coldest of hearts. She always dressed elegantly, even in casual wear.
A silk robe cinched at the waist accentuated her curves, and she moved with effortless grace.
Her gaze lifted when she saw me. “Isla, darling, you’re back early. I thought there would a celebration at the Romano estate tonight?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing a small smile. A celebration? More like the night I lost everything.
“Yes,” I said, my voice even despite the storm brewing inside me. “But I just—I needed some air.”
Her eyes searched mine, lingering on my face as though she could see the cracks forming beneath my surface. “Is everything alright, dear?”
I nodded quickly. “Yeah. Just a long night.”
She hesitated, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t push. Miss Tilda had always been perceptive, but she also respected boundaries.
“Well, if you ever need to talk, you know where to find me.” She offered me a kind smile before turning back to her roses, humming softly to herself.
I murmured a quick goodnight and forced my feet to move toward the house. The warmth of Miss Tilda’s concern settled uncomfortably in my chest, because if I stopped to acknowledge it, I might shatter completely.
As I stepped into the house, the familiar scent of old books and cedar greeted me. My father’s study light was still on, casting a dim glow into the hallway.
I found him sitting in his usual chair by the fireplace, a book in his lap and a tumbler of whiskey resting on the side table. He looked up as I entered, his sharp blue eyes narrowing slightly.
“You’re home early,” he noted, his voice deep and measured.
I took a shaky breath. “I needed to talk to you.”
He set his book aside, giving me his full attention. “What is it?”
I hesitated, gripping the back of a chair to steady myself. “I—I can’t marry Luca.”
Silence.
The crackling fire was the only sound in the room. My father didn’t move, didn’t blink.
Then, slowly, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Explain.”
I swallowed hard. “He was a fake, Dad. His love for me was nothing but a well-crafted lie.”
His brows furrowed. “What are you saying?”
I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms. “I caught him. With someone else. With—” My voice broke, but I forced myself to continue. “With Rosie.”
Something flickered in his eyes—shock, disappointment, maybe even anger—but he exhaled heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. “Isla…”
“I know this marriage was important,” I said quickly, my throat tight. “I know it was about more than just love, but I can’t do it, Dad. I won’t tie myself to someone who could betray me like that.”
Before he could respond, a sharp voice cut through the air.
“Well, well. What do we have here?”
I turned, my stomach twisting as Vivienne, my stepmother, glided into the room.
She was a striking woman, with raven-black hair that fell in perfect waves down her back, a body sculpted to perfection, and eyes that held no warmth. Her silk nightgown clung to her curves, and the diamonds at her throat caught the firelight as she smirked at me.
“You should be grateful Luca even considered you,” she said, crossing her arms. “Do you have any idea what this means for our family?”
I stiffened. “I don’t care what it means for the family. I’m not marrying a man who doesn’t love me.”
Vivienne scoffed. “Love? Oh, sweetheart, how naive. You were chosen. Do you know how many girls would kill for that title?”
“Then let them have it.” My voice was firm, though my body ached from the weight of the night.
Her lips curled into a sneer. “Ungrateful little brat.”
I barely had time to react before the back of her hand slammed across my face.
Pain exploded along my cheek, sharp and hot, as my head snapped to the side. A gasp tore from my lips, but I refused to cry out.
My father stood abruptly. “Vivienne, that’s enough.”
She turned to him, feigning innocence. “Enough? She’s throwing away the best thing that’s ever happened to her, Charles! You should be the one knocking some sense into her.”
My cheek throbbed, but I lifted my chin. “I’d rather be alone than live a lie.”
Her eyes darkened. “You spoiled little girl. You think you have a choice? You think you can just walk away from an alliance like this?” She stepped closer, her nails digging into my arm as she leaned in, her voice a whisper laced with venom. “If you don’t fix this, Isla, I will make your life a living hell.”
I yanked my arm away. “You already do.”
Her nostrils flared, but my father stepped between us. “Enough, both of you.”
Vivienne glared at him. “So you’re just going to let her disgrace this family?”
“I said enough.” His voice was cold, final.
She let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes before turning on her heel. “Fine. But don’t come crying to me when the entire pack turns against you.” She sauntered away, leaving behind the scent of expensive perfume and bitterness.
I touched my burning cheek, my skin throbbing where she had struck me.
My father exhaled, rubbing his temple. “I don’t approve of how she handled that, but Isla… do you understand what this means?”
I met his gaze, my voice steady despite the pain. “I do. And I don’t care.”
He studied me for a long moment before sighing. “You’ve always been stubborn.”
I almost laughed, but my throat was too tight.
“Go to bed, Isla,” he said quietly. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
I nodded and turned to leave, my body aching, my heart shattered.
As I reached the staircase, I stopped, pressing a hand to my chest.
Luca had broken me.
Vivienne had hurt me.
But despite it all, I was still standing.
And I wasn’t going back.
- Writer
