Chapter 11: isla thoughts
1466 Words
Isla POV
I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, but the tears keep coming, faster and hotter.
"And my best friend, Ruby," I choke out, my chest aching. "Ruby is the only person who truly cared about me. But Dylan hated her. He told me she was a bitter, single woman who was a toxic influence on our marriage. He forced me to pick fights with her. He made me distance myself from her, and I did it. I hurt my best friend just to please a husband who was secretly sleeping with another woman who claimed to be my friend."
Dr. Tanaka watches me, her eyes filled with deep empathy. "And then you found out about the clinic?"
"I found his locked cabinet," I whisper, shaking. "I found the folder showing he forged my name. He knew he was the infertile one for two years, Dr. Tanaka. He let me inject myself with hormones, let me cry, let me blame my own body, while he secretly used another man's sample just to protect his own pathetic ego. When I caught him with Simone in our kitchen, I snapped. I slapped her, packed a bag, and ran."
"And that brought you to James Moretti," Dr. Tanaka prompts gently.
"Yes," I say, my breath hitching as I try to stop the sobbing. "I drove straight to Moretti Tower with the folder, hoping for some decency. But James Moretti just sat there in a custom suit and treated me like a criminal. And now, he sent this cold, sterile contract. When I called him to fight it, he told me he could buy my school, take my home, and make everyone I love suffer if I don't sign. I am so tired of being used. I am so tired of being punished for other people's cruelty."
I cover my face with my hands, my shoulders shaking violently. Dr. Tanaka silently slides a box of tissues across the table, waiting patiently as the heavy, painful grief finally pours out of me.
"You have been managing everyone else’s comfort for so long," Dr. Tanaka says quietly, "that you forgot you are allowed to fall apart."
I press a tissue to my eyes, letting the heavy, shuddering breaths finally slow down. The silence in the room doesn't feel heavy anymore; it feels like a soft blanket holding me together while I piece myself back of my own accord.
For years, I shrunk myself to fit into the corners of Dylan's life, constantly walking on eggshells so he wouldn't look at me with that cold disappointment. I spent my mornings teaching children to find their voices while I was quietly losing my own at home. Now, sitting on this plain couch, looking out at a gravel parking lot, I realize the sheer weight of what I have been carrying alone.
"I spent so many years believing that if I just worked harder, loved him better, and gave up more of myself, everything would be okay," I whisper, staring at the crumpled paper in my hands. "But the truth is, I was just making it easy for him to ruin me."
Dr. Tanaka nods slowly, her expression warm. "And yet, you are still here, Isla."
I take a deep breath, the air finally reaching the bottom of my lungs. "I am still here."
"You told me you don't know what you are doing," Dr. Tanaka says once I dry my eyes. "But look at what you did. You found the forgery. You confronted your husband. You stood up to a billionaire in his own office. That is not a helpless woman, Isla."
"I was terrified," I admit, my voice small. "When I stood in James Moretti's office, my knees were shaking. I felt like a little girl trapped in a room with a giant."
"But did you run away?" Dr. Tanaka asks.
"No," I say. "I stood my ground."
"Exactly," Dr. Tanaka smiles, leaning back in her chair. "Courage is not the absence of fear, Isla. It is doing what you must, even when you are shaking to your bones. You protected yourself. You protected your future child. You did what was necessary when the people who were supposed to love you failed you completely."
"I just don't want to make the same mistakes again," I say, looking down at my lap. "I don't want another powerful man to tell me what my life is going to look like."
"You have already set that boundary by coming here and by questioning that contract," Dr. Tanaka says gently. "You are the one in control now. Remember that."
I stand up from the couch, feeling physically lighter than I have in months. I reach into my purse and pull out my wallet.
"Thank you, Dr. Tanaka," I say, my voice steady and clear. "I think this is exactly what I needed to hear today."
"You are very welcome, Isla," she says, walking me to the door. "Be kind to yourself. You have survived the hardest part."
"I will try," I say.
I step out of the office and into the cool afternoon air, feeling a tiny spark of hope in my chest.
Later that night, I sat alone at Ruby's kitchen table with a cold cup of tea. I look at the eleven pages again.
"I have the right to change this," I mutter to myself.
I grab a black pen. Right next to the medical clause, I write: Amendment 1: The mother retains the sole right to make routine medical decisions without requiring sign-off from the father’s legal team.
I scroll down to the security section. I write: Amendment 2: Any assigned security detail must answer directly to the mother regarding daily schedules and privacy.
At the bottom of the page, I add the final text: Amendment 3: Major decisions regarding the child’s daily upbringing, including schooling and faith, will be made by the mother, with input from the father welcomed but not required.
I sign my name firmly at the bottom: Isla Vance.
Two days later, my phone rings while I am packing up my classroom files. The screen shows the Sterling & Ashford law firm.
"Ms. Vance," Harper Sinclair says when I answer. "I received your scanned document."
"Is there a problem?" I ask, bracing myself for another fight. "Will Mr. Moretti be calling to threaten me again?"
"Actually, no," Harper says, and I can hear the genuine surprise in her voice. "Mr. Moretti found all three amendments completely acceptable."
I stop holding my breath. "That’s it? No pushback at all?"
"He read them twice," Harper explains. "Then he looked at me and said, 'Draft the revised version and send it to her today.' For what it's worth, Ms. Vance, I have been at this firm for months. I have never seen him accept changes without a massive legal fight."
“I am shocked," I admit, leaning back in my chair. "I fully expected him to call me back and threaten to buy my school again."
Harper lets out a brief, professional laugh on the other end of the line. "To be completely honest with you, Ms. Vance, when he saw your handwriting on those pages, I thought he was going to tear them up. His assistant told me he sat in his office staring at them for a very long time."
"Did he say anything else about the amendments?" I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me. "Specifically about the medical choices or the security detail?"
"He did," Harper says. "He told me that if you want to make the daily medical decisions, he trusts your judgment as a teacher. He also said that if the security detail makes you feel like you are under surveillance, he wants the team leader to check in with you every morning to see what you need. He was surprisingly reasonable."
"That doesn't sound like the man I met in Moretti Tower," I say, looking down at the pages.
"He is a hard man, Ms. Vance, but he is not a stupid one," Harper replies gently. "I think he realized that you are not trying to fight him. You are just trying to protect your peace."
"I am," I say softly. "I just want to live my life without looking over my shoulder."
"Well, these amendments will give you exactly that," Harper says. "I will send over the clean, finalized copy for your signature by the end of the day. You have won this round, Ms. Vance."
"Thank you, Harper," I say softly, hanging up the phone.
My phone buzzes instantly with a text from Ruby: You okay? Late night snack? I bought that organic strawberry yogurt you like.
I smile, typing back fast: Yes. Save me a big bowl.
- Writer
