Falling For Mr. Ruthless

A Heartbreaking Farewell

Isla's POV

The mansion was shrouded in silence, yet my mind was anything but quiet. Angelo’s words pounded relentlessly in my head, each one cutting deeper than the last. "Pathetic. Beggar. Leech." I lay on the cold, luxurious mattress, my face buried in the pillow, trying to muffle the sound of my sobs. Every part of me hurt—not just from his insults, but from the fear and helplessness I felt in this place.

I turned my head and looked at the crib beside me, where the baby slept peacefully, his tiny breaths soft and rhythmic. My heart clenched as I watched him. He was the one light in my life right now, the one small being who hadn’t judged me or looked at me with contempt. Leaving him felt impossible, but Angelo’s words played again in my mind.

*“You’re a pathetic beggar. This isn’t an orphanage.”*

The tears started again, burning my eyes as I tried to hold them back. I couldn’t let them see me like this—weak, defeated. Angelo already saw me as a nobody, someone unworthy of even being in his home, and the humiliation of his words had torn me apart. I pressed my hand over my mouth, swallowing down my cries so I wouldn’t disturb the peaceful silence that wrapped around the baby.

I forced myself to sit up, though every movement felt heavy, as if my body resisted the decision my mind had made. I looked around the lavish room, at the curtains, the gleaming furniture, the soft rugs—all things that Angelo no doubt thought I’d tried to leech from his family.

I knew it was time to go. Angelo had made it clear: this was no place for someone like me. I would never belong here, no matter how much I cared for his son. With a shaky breath, I stood up, feeling as if the weight of the world rested on my shoulders. My gaze drifted back to the crib, and I walked over, careful not to make a sound as I looked down at the baby, his innocent face illuminated by the faint glow of the moonlight filtering through the window.

I bit my lip to keep from crying out loud, the pain of this goodbye slicing through me. Gently, I reached down, running my fingers softly through his fine hair, my touch light as a feather so I wouldn’t wake him. I wanted to remember him just like this—peaceful, safe, untouched by the cruelty and bitterness of the world around him.

"Hey, little one," I whispered, barely able to get the words out without my voice breaking. "I guess… I guess this is goodbye."

A tear slipped down my cheek and landed on his blanket. I swiped at my eyes, hoping that somehow he could feel the love I had for him in this moment. “I never wanted to leave you, you know,” I murmured softly. “But this world… your world… it’s not a place for me.”

I reached out and gently held his tiny hand, feeling his warmth, memorizing the softness of his skin, knowing it would be the last time I ever felt it. “Please grow up safe,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Grow up happy, and remember that someone… even if she was just a nobody… loved you.”

The weight of those words settled in my heart, a bittersweet ache that seemed to consume me. I wanted to stay, to be there for him, but I also knew that staying here would only bring him more harm. Angelo’s anger, his resentment—it would only get worse if he thought I was trying to be a part of this family.

I leaned down, brushing a soft kiss on his tiny forehead, my heart shattering with every second. “Goodbye, my sweet boy. I’ll miss you every day. I’ll think of you every moment… even if you never remember me.”

The thought of him growing up, his life unfolding without me in it, tore at my soul. But I knew that this was what I had to do. I couldn’t be selfish and stay, not when it would only bring more anger, more tension, to a family already shrouded in darkness.

Slowly, I stepped back from the crib, taking in every detail of his peaceful face, committing it to memory. As I reached the doorway, I looked back one last time, my heart breaking all over again. My hand trembled as I reached for the handle, my body screaming at me to stay, but my mind forcing me to move forward.

As I opened the door, the weight of Angelo’s words hit me one last time.

*“You’re a nobody. A leech. This isn’t a place for a beggar like you.”*

The words echoed like thunder, making me feel small and worthless. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to hold onto the last shred of dignity I had left. I slipped out of the room, closing the door behind me with a soft click, hoping that, somehow, the baby would understand one day.

---

I stepped out of the nursery, pausing just outside the door as my hand lingered on the handle. The coolness of the metal grounded me for a moment, and I took a deep, shuddering breath. My heart was pounding, as if trying to pull me back inside, back to where the baby was, but I forced myself to let go. I released the handle and let my hand drop to my side, feeling the emptiness settle in my chest.

Angelo’s words still echoed in my mind, each insult hitting harder than any blow could. “You’re a nobody. A beggar. Leeching off my family.” I clamped my hand over my mouth, trying to muffle the quiet sob that escaped my lips.

Every step away from the baby felt like another knife twisting in my heart, reminding me that I would never be part of his life again. I’d wanted nothing more than to care for him, to give him the love I’d never had, but Angelo had made it painfully clear that I had no place here.

As I walked down the dimly lit hallway, memories flooded my mind—memories of the little moments that had already become precious to me. The way the baby would grasp my finger with his tiny hand, his eyes lighting up when I’d make silly faces to make him laugh, the peaceful look on his face when he’d finally fall asleep in my arms. Each memory was like a bittersweet reminder of the family I’d always longed for, a family that would never be mine.

When I reached the grand staircase, I stopped, looking around at the opulence that surrounded me. The dark wood, the gilded frames, the marble floors—it all reminded me of how out of place I was here, how Angelo’s world was one I could never belong to. The grandeur only amplified my sense of loneliness, as if the walls themselves were whispering that I didn’t belong.

I pulled my tattered coat tighter around me, the thin fabric a stark contrast to the luxurious surroundings. The cold air bit at my skin, a reminder that once I left, I’d have nothing—no home, no security, no one waiting for me. I thought back to how I’d ended up here, how my life had spiraled to the point where I had no choice but to take this job.

But as much as I needed the job, I couldn’t stay. Not with Angelo’s hatred suffocating me, his contempt like a weight pressing down on my chest.

“It’s time to go, Isla. There’s no place for you here.”

The thought was like a knife, but I swallowed the pain and pushed forward. I kept my footsteps light, not wanting to wake anyone, not wanting to risk one last encounter with Angelo’s cold, unyielding gaze. His face, his sneer, the way he looked at me as if I was dirt under his shoe—it all haunted me, but I shoved it down, locking it away somewhere deep.

Finally, I reached the front door. My hand hesitated on the handle, the finality of this moment crashing down on me. This was it. I was really leaving him, leaving the baby, leaving whatever fragile dream I’d held onto. I forced myself to turn the handle and opened the door, stepping out into the cold night air.

The chill bit into me, harsher than I’d expected, making me shiver as I pulled my coat tighter. I turned back for one last look at the mansion, the place where I’d thought I might finally have found a sense of purpose, a sense of family. But now, as I looked at the grand structure, all I felt was emptiness—a hollow ache that reminded me just how alone I was.

“Goodbye,” I whispered, my voice barely a breath, lost in the cold wind. “Goodbye, little one. I’ll always love you… even if you’ll never know it.”

The tears came harder now, and I covered my mouth to stifle my cries, my body shaking with the pain of leaving him behind. I couldn’t stop the tears, couldn’t stop the aching, but I forced myself to keep walking. One step, then another, down the long driveway, away from the only home I’d known in a long time.

As I reached the gates, I heard a faint sound—a soft, distant cry. My heart stopped, and I turned, my hand gripping the iron bars of the gate as I strained to hear. It was the baby. His cry, soft but distinct, drifted through the cold night air, tugging at my heart, calling me back.

For a moment, I faltered, my legs trembling as I clutched the gate, every fiber of my being screaming to turn back, to rush to him, to hold him one last time. But Angelo’s words rang in my ears, sharper now, a brutal reminder of my place—or lack thereof.

“I can take care of my son. I don’t need some pathetic, broken girl pretending to help.”

The weight of those words settled over me, suffocating the small glimmer of hope that had flickered in my chest. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to let go of the gate, to turn away from the mansion, from the baby, from everything I’d foolishly thought I could have.

With one final, shaky breath, I walked away, each step feeling heavier than the last. The world outside was cold, empty, and unfamiliar, but it was mine now. I had no home, no family, and no purpose—only the painful knowledge that I’d given up the one thing that had brought me even a shred of happiness.

As I walked into the darkness, the baby’s cry echoed in my mind, a sound that would haunt me for the rest of my life.