THE NAME SHE TRIED TO FORGET
1149 Words
Rain pelted against the glass panes of the cottage like the tapping of impatient fingers. A low mist hung over the Westwood grounds, cloaking the estate in a kind of quiet foreboding. Inside, Bella stood barefoot in the kitchen, nursing a cup of chamomile tea that had long gone cold.
She hadn’t slept much.
Even though the interview had gone well, and public sentiment had begun to shift in her favor, something felt… off.
Like the calm before the storm.
Damian entered behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Bad dreams?”
“Not dreams,” she said quietly. “Just memories that feel too close again.”
He pulled her closer. “You’re safe now. Whatever’s trying to creep back in, it won’t reach you. I won’t let it.”
She wanted to believe him.
But the past didn’t ask permission before it returned.
⸻
Later that morning, as Bella helped Elise finalize logistics for the Westwood Foundation’s launch event, the butler appeared with a puzzled expression.
“There’s a man at the gate, Miss Grace,” he said. “Asking for you by name. Says his name is… Leo Hart.”
Bella went completely still.
Elise turned toward her sharply. “Do you know him?”
Bella’s throat tightened. “Yes.”
Damian appeared in the doorway, instantly alert. “Who is he?”
Bella’s voice was quiet but clear. “He’s the reason I ran away at sixteen.”
Silence fell.
“Should I have security remove him?” the butler asked, eyes darting between them.
Bella hesitated. “No. Let me see him. Alone.”
Damian stepped forward. “Absolutely not.”
“I have to,” she said. “If I don’t face him now, he’ll just keep coming.”
She looked him in the eyes. “I need to close this door myself.”
⸻
Leo Hart waited just outside the front gate, leaning against a rusting motorcycle with a cigarette tucked behind one ear and the same crooked grin that had once charmed everyone—except those who knew better.
Bella approached slowly, dressed in black jeans and a fitted blazer. No makeup. No armor.
Just clarity.
“Isabella,” Leo said, stepping forward like he expected a hug.
She didn’t move. “Don’t call me that.”
He tilted his head. “Didn’t think you’d get all high and mighty. Not after the way you left.”
“I left because you gave me no choice.”
He scoffed. “Come on. I made mistakes, but I was trying to look out for you.”
“You took the money from my part-time job. You sold my books. You threatened to turn me in when I tried to leave.”
Leo shrugged. “We were both kids. You think I had a manual on raising a teenage sister after Mom died?”
“You didn’t raise me,” Bella said, her voice hard. “You controlled me.”
He frowned. “You think you’re better than me now? Just ’cause you’re in a fancy house, wearing clothes some rich man probably bought?”
“You’re not here to catch up,” she said. “What do you want?”
Leo stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I want in.”
“On what?”
“On this.” He gestured toward the house beyond the gates. “You’re in the news now. Bella Grace, the rags-to-riches sweetheart. You owe your brother something.”
“I owe you nothing.”
Leo’s voice hardened. “Don’t forget who took you in when no one else would.”
“And don’t forget who you became after you did,” she snapped.
He paused, taken aback. “So this is who you are now?”
She didn’t answer.
Leo straightened, trying to collect his pride. “You think Westwood’s gonna accept someone like you if the world knew everything? About our parents? About you before you were Bella Grace?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you threatening me?”
“I’m reminding you.”
She looked him dead in the eye. “Then let me remind you of something, too. I’ve walked through hell and back. I’ve been broke, homeless, and forgotten. And I rose without your help. Try to drag me down now—and I’ll make sure you regret it.”
Leo stared at her for a long moment. Then he scoffed, backed up, and climbed onto his motorcycle.
“You’ve changed, sis.”
“I had to,” she said. “Because people like you don’t.”
He revved the engine, then peeled off down the road, disappearing into the mist.
⸻
Bella walked back to the house slowly. Her chest felt hollow, like a weight she’d carried for years had finally cracked and spilled out.
Damian was waiting just inside the doors. One look at her and he knew.
“He’s gone?”
“For now.”
He reached out to touch her face, but she stepped back.
“I need a moment,” she whispered. “Please.”
He nodded, letting her go.
⸻
That night, Bella sat in the old greenhouse tucked behind the gardens, now overgrown with moss and vines. It was her favorite escape on the estate—quiet, forgotten, and honest in its wildness.
Elise found her there, curled up on a bench beside the climbing roses.
“You were right,” Bella said softly. “About wolves.”
“They always smell power before anyone else does.”
“I used to think if I made it far enough, I’d stop being afraid of where I came from.”
“You’re not afraid,” Elise said, sitting beside her. “You just hate that your past can still touch your present.”
Bella nodded.
“Maybe that’s the real trick,” Elise continued. “Not to erase the past—but to own it so no one can weaponize it.”
Bella turned to her. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” Elise said. “But if that scumbag comes back, I’m calling in every favor I’ve ever earned with security.”
Bella smiled faintly.
⸻
The next morning, Bella posted a short statement on her social media account—a personal message with no filters, no handlers.
“I am not perfect. I come from a broken past, with shadows I’ve worked hard to outgrow. But I will not be ashamed. I am proud of who I’ve become—and who I’m still becoming. If you support me, thank you. If you doubt me, I understand. Just know this: I’m not going anywhere.”
— Bella Grace
It went viral.
And with each repost, each comment, each share—Bella’s voice grew louder than Leo’s shadow ever could.
- Writer
