The Rejected Luna's Return

CHAPTER 3

Isla

I closed my bedroom door behind me, sagging against it as the weight of the night crashed over me like a tidal wave. My body felt heavy, my limbs sore with exhaustion, but my mind was wide awake, replaying every agonizing second of what I had witnessed.

Luca. Rosie. The betrayal.

It was supposed to be my night. The moment I had been waiting for since I was a child, the moment I became his. Instead, I had stood in the doorway, my heart shattering, as my best friend moaned beneath the man I thought would be mine forever.

A bitter laugh bubbled in my throat. How foolish I had been.

I pushed myself off the door and walked toward the bathroom, my fingers trembling as I turned the faucet on. Cool water rushed from the tap, and I splashed it over my face, hoping to wash away the remnants of my heartbreak. But no amount of water could erase the betrayal, the humiliation burning inside me like fire.

I reached for a towel and pressed it against my throbbing cheek—Vivienne’s latest gift. She never needed a reason to hit me. Tonight, she had the perfect excuse.

I had barely placed the towel back on the rack when I heard the door creak open.

Vivienne.

I stiffened instantly, my body going on high alert. Her perfume was sharp and overpowering and it filled the room before she even spoke.

“Well, aren’t you comfortable?” she drawled, stepping inside as though she owned the space. “Freshening up, as if you aren’t the biggest disgrace this family has ever seen.”

I gritted my teeth, turning to face her. She was still in her silk robe, her hair swept back into an elegant bun. She looked perfect, as she always did. But beneath the beauty lurked a woman made of steel and venom.

“I don’t have the energy for this, Vivienne,” I muttered, reaching for my brush.

She arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “Oh? Poor little Isla is tired? What a shame.” She stepped closer, her gaze sweeping over me with distaste. “You humiliated this family tonight. And you think you can just lock yourself in here and rest?”

I clenched the brush in my hands. “I didn’t humiliate anyone. Luca did that all on his own.”

Vivienne’s expression darkened. “Luca was a gift.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms. “A gift? More like a curse. And I’m done being treated like some bargaining chip. I won’t marry him.”

The moment the words left my lips, I saw the change in her eyes—a flicker of something cold, cruel.

Then she moved.

It happened so fast. A sharp c***k split the air as her hand collided with the side of my head, knocking me off balance. I stumbled against the bathroom counter, my skull ringing from the impact.

“You spoiled, ungrateful brat,” she hissed, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking me upright. Pain shot through my scalp, but I refused to cry out. She wanted that. She wanted to see me break.

“I’ve tolerated your nonsense for years,” she seethed, dragging me out of the bathroom and shoving me toward the center of the bedroom. “I put a roof over your head, fed you, clothed you, and this is how you repay me?”

I let out a bitter laugh despite the pain. “You didn’t do any of that. My father did.”

Her nails dug into my arms, her grip so tight I knew I’d have bruises by morning. “Your father? Please. He’s nothing more than a weak man who let his pathetic daughter run wild.”

I flinched, but not because her words weren’t true. Because they were.

My father had chosen her over me, over and over again.

Even after my mother’s death, even when I begged him not to marry Vivienne, he had ignored me.

“I love her, Isla,” he had said all those years ago, when I was still young and naive enough to believe he would put me first. “She will take care of us.”

Take care of us?

No. Vivienne had only ever taken care of herself.

She had taken over the house like a queen claiming her throne, and from the moment she moved in, my life became a living hell.

I wasn’t allowed to eat at the same table with them.

I wasn’t allowed to wear anything nice—only Vivienne’s hand-me-downs that never fit right.

And worst of all, I wasn’t allowed to speak against her. Ever.

The first time I did, she had slapped me so hard I had fallen. My father had been there. He had seen it. And he had done nothing.

I learned quickly after that. No one was going to save me.

And now, as she dug her nails into my arms and shoved me toward the door, I realized nothing had changed.

“Since you’re too good for this family now,” Vivienne sneered, “you can sleep in the basement.”

I wrenched my arm free, my chest heaving. “You can’t do this.”

She smirked. “Oh, darling, I’ve been doing this for years.”

I stared at her, breathing hard, my skin stinging from where she had grabbed me.

But I wouldn’t fight. Not yet.

I forced my head high and walked past her, my shoulders straight even as my insides crumbled. I could hear her laughing behind me, mocking me, celebrating my misery.

I descended the stairs slowly, my vision blurring as exhaustion weighed me down. The house was dark, silent, except for the distant sound of the clock ticking in the hallway.

When I reached the basement door, I hesitated, pressing a hand to the wood.

I could leave. I could walk out right now and never come back.

But I had nowhere to go.

No one to turn to.

I clenched my jaw and opened the door.

The basement smelled of dust and mildew, and the air was damp and cold. I flicked on the light, revealing the worn mattress in the corner—the same one she had forced me to sleep on as a child whenever she was displeased with me.

My stomach twisted, but I didn’t cry.

Not anymore.

Instead, I lay down, curling into myself as the weight of everything settled over me.

I had lost Luca.

I had lost my best friend.

And now, I had lost my place in my own home.

But as I stared at the ceiling, my bruised arms wrapped around my aching body, one thought burned in my mind:

I had to reject Luca on the matimg night and leave this place for good.