Fort Brothers

0001 – Isa

I fought back, twisting and wriggling my wrist against his grip. My heels pounded against the pavement as he dragged me toward the front door.

Useless.

Absolutely useless.

Scott only tugged me harder. Pain shot up my arm and I winced before I could stop myself, irritation burning hotter in my chest.

I was no match for him physically. So, I stopped fighting. There was no point pretending I could outmuscle Scott Moreland. The man could probably lift me with one arm and continue being angry with the other.

Still, strength wasn't everything. If there was one thing I knew with absolute certainty, it was this:

He could beat me in physical strength.

Fine.

I'll give him that one.

But everywhere else?

Oh, I could absolutely beat his ass.

An argument? Finished.

Stubbornness? Please.

Holding a grudge? Olympic gold medalist.

So if Scott Moreland expected me to suddenly become obedient and quietly follow instructions now of all times?

He could keep dreaming.

I didn't always obey him.

Actually. Now that I thought about it, I rarely did.

And maybe, just maybe, that had also been part of the problem.

"Mr. Arthur! Mr. Arthur!” he called out the moment we crossed the threshold.

Home. Well… technically. I’d left this house two weeks ago as a married woman.

Now look at me. Back already. Wonderful. Absolutely thriving. The irony almost made me laugh until my eyes flicked upwards.

At the top of the staircase stood my father, making his way down with a serious 'what in God's name is happening here?. His mind must be desperately trying to catch up with whatever disaster had just barged through his front doors.

Scott let go of my wrist. I immediately rubbed the spot he had been gripping, the skin already sore beneath my fingers.

Then came that familiar gesture again. he dragged the back of his hand across his nose again. A habit. I’d seen it enough times to recognize it now, he only did that when he was trying very hard to keep his anger contained. And right now, it looked like it was taking everything in him.

“Brought Isa back. We signed the papers. It's done. We both wanted out.”

“Only two weeks after?”

Hearing my father say it out loud made it sound worse. I still couldn't quite believe it myself.

“Scott… what exactly is the problem here?”

Dad reached the bottom of the stairs, sliding his hand off the banister. He stopped in front of us and pointed between Scott and me.

“Are your parents aware of this? If there was a problem, why didn’t both of you come to us first before taking a step like divorce?”

“Your daughter isn't who I thought she was."

My jaw tightened.

Dad frowned—Thick brown eyebrows, streaked with grey, pulling together. “What do you mean? I raised her.”

Then his eyes turned to me.

Fully.

Searching my face,

“Isa?” he said again, slower this time. “Isa, you were excited about getting married to Scott here. What happened? What’s changed?”

I looked away from his eyes.

Those deep, piercing hazel eyes I’d inherited from him.

I couldn’t hold his gaze.

Not because I was guilty but because I didn’t have a clean answer ready, and my father had never been the kind of man you survived by improvising around.

"Scott… settle down."

The tone changed immediately. Not softer exactly. Just… redirected. He lifted a hand slightly, gesturing toward the sitting area.

"Perhaps we can talk this over, son.”

“We signed the papers already. It’s done." Scott Moreland said flatly and walked out the door.

Silence.

I could feel my father's disappointment hanging in the air, and I just wished he’d let me go. Let me disappear into my room, lock the door, and bury my face into a pillow until everything stopped feeling like it was collapsing inward.

“You know what that meant for our family, Isa,” father said at last.

My fingers curled tightly around the strap of my purse as if it could anchor me to something solid.

I should’ve been ready for this.

I had prepared for anger.

Yelling. Accusations. Maybe even punishment.

I could have handled that.

I knew how to stand in front of anger and survive it.

But disappointment…

That was different.

I swallowed hard, forcing the sting behind my eyes to stay there. “Trust me... It was better I walked out.”

“Enough!"

I flinched, shoulders jerking at the sound. I bit the inside of my lip and avoided eye contact, gazing just past Dad instead of at his face. I was all too familiar with that look, and I definitely didn't want to see it fully.

"If you couldn’t handle the marriage, we’ll have to refocus your priorities. The agency will take you back entirely.”

“Dad…I've.... I’ve always wanted to be an artist. I want to be an artist. You’ve always known that.”

My throat tightened, but I pushed through it anyway, because stopping now meant I wouldn’t get another chance.

“Just this once… just this one time, let me choose something for myself—"

Smack!

Against my chin. It burned, and so did the anger in my chest.

“Say that one more time, and you will regret it!"

Aunt Kelsey.

It was her. The woman who had always felt like she had more right to discipline me than my own father.

I chewed on my lip, fighting it hard, but it didn’t hold. The tears I’d been forcing back slipped through anyway.

"We had one job for you, Isa. Be a wife. And somehow you still managed to screw that up too. Really impressive. Truly. I’m in awe."

I refused to let that one slide and before I could talk myself out of it, I pushed back.

“That’s... that's because you’ve all been pushing me into a path I don’t belong on. Making me become things I never wanted to be.”

Kelsey let out a short, dismissive chortle. “Oh, don’t start. Don’t start rewriting this now. Henceforth, just like your father have stated, you’ll provide nursing care to patients for our company."

She turned to her assistant who stood next to her, “Remind me, Maya. The one with the brain haemorrhage, the one currently in a vegetative state.”

Maya, who had been right there the entire time, immediately scrolled through her iPad.

"Mr Bryan Fort,” she said, pushing her glasses up as her gaze lifted to meet mine.The look in her eyes could have made me think she’d already seen the end of my world coming.

"That’s your patient now,” Kelsey called over her shoulder, already taking the stairs two at a time. "Fourteen hours a day. No exceptions.”