The Wrong Vows

Chapter-6 (Isabella's POV)

“Wait... what?” The words leave my lips before I can stop them. “Who the hell is Conrad?”

My gaze shoots to the man in the black suit. He’s tall, sharply dressed and looks just as stunned as I feel. My heart races. That must be Conrad... I think, swallowing hard.

Beside me, Mia’s voice cuts through the tension. “Uncle, any more announcements?” she asks, half-joking, trying to lighten the room.

Dad chuckles, clearly proud of the drama he’s stirred. “No, no more announcements,” he says with a dismissive wave.

Mia slinks her arm around me, pulling me into a side hug. I don’t hug her back. My body feels frozen.

I turn my head to Serena. She’s the only one who can fix this. My eyes plead with hers, searching for answers. But her face... it’s unreadable. Pale. Stiff. Like someone just flipped her world upside down too.

She steps forward, voice trembling but still calm. “Dad,” she says, “I need to talk to you. Please. Come with me.”

He shakes his head slowly, already expecting this. “Serena, I know what you're going to say. Don’t worry—I’ll clear all the misunderstandings.”

I blink. Misunderstandings? My fists clench at my sides.

I glance at Mom, hoping for a sliver of sympathy. Her head is bowed, eyes glued to the floor like the tiles are suddenly fascinating. No words. No glance. Not even a flinch.

Mom... how could you do this to me?

Suddenly, I hear a chair scrape harshly against the floor. I whip around.

Andrés.

He’s already halfway up, his face hard and jaw clenched as he walks away from the gathering. No goodbyes. No explanations.

I stare after him, stunned. Why is he angry? He loves Serena... right? Isn’t this what he wanted?

But nothing is making sense anymore.

My world—once a delicate balance of hurt and healing—is now crumbling beneath me, one "announcement" at a time.

As soon as Serena pushed back her chair and stood up, the air seemed to shift. She walked out in silence, her heels clicking against the marble floor like a gavel sealing the verdict. A moment later, the man in the suit—Conrad—got up too. Without a word, he followed her.

One by one, everyone began leaving the dining room, their unspoken thoughts weighing heavier than the half-eaten dinner plates. I sat there, numb, my jaw clenched.

Why should I stay if no one even cares?

Anger bubbled in my chest, and I shoved my chair back with more force than necessary. As I stormed out, I heard Mia’s footsteps trailing close behind.

She caught up beside me and asked, her voice low but sharp, “What just happened in there? Are you okay?”

I shook my head, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“How did marriage suddenly become the only thing our parents care about?” she added, clearly frustrated.

Her words stirred something in me—a memory, faint but piercing. Andrés. The night he had admitted he came back for marriage. He knew. He knew it was Serena all along. And now he’s pretending like he's clueless?

My fists tightened at my sides.

Mia gave my shoulder a gentle nudge. “What are you thinking about? And who even is this Conrad guy? How did he suddenly enter the picture?”

Before I could respond, Conrad exited our house. He didn’t glance back—just walked straight to his sleek Porsche, slid into the driver’s seat, and sped off without a word.

Mia turned back to me, frowning. “What are we gonna do now? You’re not actually going to marry that guy, right?”

I looked at her, my voice steady but cold. “No. I will not marry him.”

Then a new wave of urgency hit me. “Where’s Andrés?”

Mia shrugged. “I don’t know. He looked furious when he left.”

“Go find him,” I said, touching her arm. “Talk to him. Calm him down. I’ll handle things inside.”

With a nod, she turned and left.

I stepped back into the house, the silence almost suffocating. Mom was gone from the hallway—probably hiding behind her silence again. I headed toward the room Serena and I shared whenever we visited our parents. The door was slightly ajar.

Inside, Serena stood by the window, her back to me, arms crossed, shoulders tight. She didn’t turn around, but she must have sensed me. A second later, she spun and pulled me into a hug.

Even though she was only five minutes older than me, Serena had always played the role of the older sister—distant most days, but strangely comforting when it mattered.

“I’ll talk to Dad,” she whispered. “Don’t be upset. Everything will be alright.”

I pulled away slightly to look at her. “Are you okay?”

She didn’t answer. Her gaze drifted back to the window, her expression unreadable.

I exhaled sharply. “How could Dad do this to us? He’s not thinking about us at all. It’s all business to him—his image, his reputation, some deal with Conrad’s family. Since when do they get to decide who we marry?”

My voice cracked with frustration.

A soft knock interrupted us. Mom stood at the door, her face unreadable. “Your father is calling both of you,” she said, then turned and left before we could respond.

I stared after her. She was part of this too—standing by and watching it unfold like a passive spectator. How could they both do this to us?

Serena and I walked downstairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. The tension hung in the air like a thick fog. We found our father in the lounge, a glass of whiskey in hand, his posture relaxed in a way that made my stomach turn.

Celebrating, probably.

Serena opened her mouth to speak, but he raised a hand, silencing her without even turning.

“Listen to me first,” he said, voice firm and final. “I know what you’re both going to say—that you’re not ready for marriage, that you want to choose your own partners.” He finally looked at us, his gaze sharp. “But this marriage will happen. I’ve made my decision. That’s the end of it.”

My breath caught.

All my life, I’d obeyed his commands—silent, invisible, compliant. I never questioned him, never asked for anything. Maybe, deep down, I believed it was my punishment for not being the son he always wanted. For simply being me.

But today... today is different.

This is my life. My future.

My voice trembled, but I forced the words out. “I won’t marry him.”

Dad’s eyes narrowed.

“I don’t even know him,” I continued, standing straighter. “I don’t love him. How am I supposed to spend the rest of my life with a stranger?”

He scoffed and leaned back, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Love?” he said. “It’s not necessary to love someone before marriage. Your mother and I didn’t. And we’re just fine.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Are you?” I asked. “Because all I see is a woman who can’t even speak her mind. A woman who stands in the corner and watches her daughters’ futures being bartered like business deals.”

His jaw tightened.

“If this is what a marriage without love looks like,” I said, my voice rising, “then I don’t want to marry. Ever.”

His gaze darkened. He stood up slowly and walked toward us. “Fine,” he said, his voice low, dangerous. “It’s up to you. Either you both marry the partners we’ve chosen... or you’ll never see your mother and me again. If you refuse, then from this moment on, we are no longer your parents.”

The words struck like a slap.

My eyes welled up, but I refused to let the tears fall.

Behind him, Mom stepped forward as if to say something—but Dad held up a hand, silencing her too. Then, without another word, he left the room. His footsteps echoed down the hall until the door slammed shut.

Silence.

The kind that deafens.

I looked at Serena, whose lips were trembling. For once, even she didn’t know what to say.

We were daughters born into a house where obedience was more important than dreams.

And now, we were left with a choice that didn’t feel like a choice at all.