Stuck with Mr. Billionaire

"Isabella Winter Adams!" I heard my name being called by none other than my mother. The sharpness in her voice always made my stomach tighten and I hated when she used my full name. Once I heard that, I knew I was in for some scolding. I sat upright, bracing myself for the first reprimand of the day. Slowly, I placed the book, I was reading aside and sat patiently, waiting for her to enter my room. Not a minute later, she stormed in, her face flushed with anger, like a dragon ready to breathe fire. Behind her was my sister, Alina, with a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. "Why didn't you answer me when I called you?" she asked, walking confidently toward my bed while clutching a red satin dress. I was silent, searching for an excuse, but honestly, I had none or at least none that would do any good. "Mother asked you a question, silly," Alina teased, her sly smile widening. Alina was always the perfect daughter of the Adams family. She could do wrong a hundred times and still be regarded as my mother’s precious angel. She didn’t quite like me, I was always a target to her. She saw me as weak, a contrast to her own seemingly flawless image. "What's the matter?" I questioned facing my mother directly. She looked stern and disappointed, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized me. "This dress was custom made for Alina for the wedding tomorrow. Did I not warn you not to touch her stuff?" Her tone was harsh, underscoring her displeasure. "But mother, I didn't..." I began to protest, but before I could finish, Alina suddenly broke down crying. What wedding were they going on about? Her shoulders shook as she sobbed, "I knew you hated me, but I didn't realize you were jealous of me too." Her voice was trembling with fake sobs. I looked at her, confused and hurt. "What do you mean? I’ve been in my room the entire week. And even if I had touched your dress, where would I wear it to?" I asked, standing up to face her. Since the accident, I have been confined mostly to the house. No one talked to me much, and when they did, it was often to scold, blame, or humiliate me. I had grown used to this isolation, I was always seen as the boring, overlooked member of the Adams family. My sister Alina was a renowned top model, signed with one of the world's leading agencies. My older brother, Alexander, was celebrated as the golden son, managing the family business with much success and ease. Our mother was the formidable matriarch of the family, a powerful figure in the jewelry industry. Her designs were famous worldwide and worn by celebrities, making her a household name. "You need to apologize to your sister, now!" My mother commanded, her voice firm and unwavering. "Why should I? I didn't wear that dress, and she's only making things up. I swear I never even stepped foot in her room," I explained, hoping this time my mother would listen. "I told you it was pointless. I wanted to look perfect for her big day and this is what she repays me with," Alina said, wiping pretend tears from her eyes, her expression a mixture of anger and hurt. How could my mother be so blind to her pretense? Since dad died, it felt like everyone was out to get me. I did everything I could to help him, but I couldn’t save him. The blame and accusations fell on me, my family even called me bad luck. That pain cut deep, like a sword piercing my heart, because I had lost my dad as well. It took months for me to heal emotionally, yet I found myself reliving that nightmare again and again. "Apologize to her right now, Isabella!" My mother shouted, her voice echoing through the room. I stood there, numb, and sat on my bed, hanging my head low. No matter how much I tried to explain myself, they refused to listen. In the corner of my eye, I saw Alina moving closer, her face twisted with anger. "Just admit it, you want to be me so badly that you play dress-up with my things. I wasn't going to upstage you of course you are going to be in a white dress," she snapped, her earlier distress replaced by fury. Her words struck a nerve, igniting a surge of indignation in me. What did she mean I was going to be in a white dress and a wedding tomorrow? No it can't be. "What do you mean I'll be in a white dress? Who's wedding are you attending tomorrow?," I asked, my voice trembling with contained anger. "Mother?" I faced my mother trying to make sense of what I heard. "Yours, of course dear sister," She replied with a sly smile plastered on her face. As soon as the words left her mouth, I panicked. The silence from my mother only confirmed what Alina said. "No! I will not marry anyone, I mean it," I threatened walking towards my mother. "Isabella...now no one asked for your opinion on this matter. So you'll do as your told, for once just listen and stop being a brat," My mother replied with a smug loom on her face. "I said I will not. If father was..." I began resisting "Don't you dare mention him, you lost that right the day he died. How dare you question Mother's decision?" Alina stepped forward with a murderous look on her face. "You'll then have to drag me down that isle because I mean it, I'm not going to marry anyone." I responded firmly standing my ground. As soon as the word left my mouth a hot slap landed on my cheeks. "Don't you ever talk back to me." She sneered My mother stood there, seemingly unfazed, as my legs gave out and I fell to my knees, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. Suddenly, a deep voice interrupted, breaking the tense silence. "What’s all the commotion about?"