Ashes Of Isabella

ISABELLA'S POV: Los Angeles December mornings are always cold, soft, and dangerously cozy, the kind of mornings that make you want to disappear under the blanket and never resurface. I curl deeper into the warm cocoon, hugging myself as the chill nips at my toes. The door creaks open. Footsteps. A familiar voice. “Good morning, madam. Mister Martin is waiting for you at the dining table. You should get ready.” I groan dramatically into my pillow. “No… I want to sleep a little more.” Aunt Maria ignores me, like always. She walks to the window and, with one cruel swoosh, pulls the curtains wide open. Sunlight floods my room like a personal attack. “Aunt Maria! Close it!” I squint, covering my eyes. She laughs lightly, the sound warm and motherly. “Dear, only lazy people sleep until late. And my Isabella is neither lazy nor irresponsible. Come on, get up.” I sit up, rubbing my eyes, and she presses a kiss to my forehead. The gesture melts me instantly. Aunt Maria has raised me like her own ever since my mother died. She and her husband live with us, taking care of the house, and taking care of me. They never had children, and I never let them feel that gap. They are family in every sense. After showering and getting dressed, I head downstairs. Dad is sitting at the table, half-hidden behind his newspaper like he’s negotiating world peace. “Good morning, Dad,” I say, sitting next to him. He lowers the paper just enough to show one raised eyebrow. “Isn’t it a little late for ‘good morning’?” I glance at the clock. “It’s nine a.m., Dad. Did you wake up early just for me? How sweet.” He folds the newspaper with a sigh. “Isabella, that’s very immature. Now that you’ve joined the office, you should be more disciplined and active.” I nod obediently, even though the lecture is going straight over my sleepy head. He knows it. I know he knows it. After breakfast, we head out for the office. On the way, Dad slips right back into lecture mode, timing, ethics, professionalism. All important things, I’m sure. But I spend most of the ride dozing on his shoulder, pretending to listen. Because no matter how much he scolds me, my father’s shoulder will always be the safest place in the world. As soon as we step inside the office building, the atmosphere shifts. Employees straighten up, voices lower, and everyone bows respectfully as we pass. My father’s presence carries a quiet power, one that makes people instinctively step aside. I follow right behind him, trying to match his serious pace even though my heels are already protesting. Dad walks straight into his cabin, and I slip in after him. He settles into his leather chair and places a thick file right in front of me. “Check the sales of last year and this year,” he says, tapping the cover. “Compare them. Make a proper report and then bring it to me.” I pout dramatically. “Dad… isn’t that a little too easy for me?” A faint smile curves his lips. “First open the file. You have to check every week’s sales from last year.” My eyes widen as if the file suddenly turned into a horror movie. “Every week? Dad, that sounds like torture!” He rolls his eyes, the way he always does whenever I act like a child. “You have time till lunch break, Isabella.” I clutch the file like a bomb and rush out of his office, muttering to myself. No matter how sweet and soft he is at home, my father transforms into a completely different man at work, strict, sharp, and uncompromising. And I? I’m his unfortunate trainee. I settle into my own office space and dive into the numbers. At first, I want to scream. Half an hour later, I want to cry. And by the one, hour mark, I have accepted my fate. But finally, miraculously, I finish it. One hour before lunch. With pride puffing in my chest, I enter Dad’s office and place the completed report on his table. He flips through it carefully, his face unreadable. I hold my breath. Then he nods, a proud smile spreading across his face. “That’s good. I’m impressed.” I grin. “See? I told you it wasn’t too hard for me!” He stands up, stretching his arms slightly. “Well, since you did a good job… I have something for you.” Excitement shoots through me. I rub my hands together dramatically. “A gift? Finally! This is what I was born for.” He opens his desk drawer with a mysterious expression and slowly pulls out… a pen. My smile freezes. “A pen?” He nods proudly. “Not just any pen. My father gave this to me when I joined the company. He said it would take me to the sky, and it did.” I take it between my fingers, squinting at it suspiciously. “Why? Does a genie come out of it if you rub it three times?” Dad raises an eyebrow. “What is that supposed to mean?” I shrug. “I mean… Granddad wasn’t exactly great at giving gifts, so I get why the pen was enough for him. But you, Dad? I had high hopes.” He shoots me a warning glare. “Isabella.” I burst into laughter. “I’m kidding! Thank you, Dad.” I throw my arms around him and he hugs me back warmly. For a moment, everything feels perfect. Just me and him, like always. We head out together afterward, walking toward the nearby restaurant for lunch, side by side. My father chats about office expansions, clients, and business… and I listen, soaking in his voice, not knowing how much these small moments will mean later.