"Isabella! Are you just going to stand there and watch him bully me?!"
"Isabella!"
I raised my hand, ready to slap him again.
But my wrist was suddenly seized from behind. Isabella's voice drifted over my shoulder, carrying that infuriating hint of amusement.
"Mr. James, isn't this a bit... undignified?"
Her tone stayed light, almost playful.
I heard the warning beneath it.
"Boys his age care about their looks," Isabella continued. "If you actually damage his face, you'll be the one dealing with the consequences. Why put yourself through that?"
Her voice remained mild, indifferent even—but her grip on my wrist tightened steadily, forcing me to release the boy. Only then did she speak again.
"Let's chalk today up to youthful impulsiveness. He overstepped."
"But if there's a next time—" Her gaze turned cold as it settled on me. "Mr. James, my patience has limits."
I watched as she gathered the boy into her arms, cooing softly.
"It doesn't hurt anymore."
"There you go. Good boy."
He buried himself against her, sobbing so hard he could barely breathe. She murmured comfort as she turned to leave—but I called out before she could.
"Isabella."
She didn't stop. I chased after her anyway, blocking her path.
"If you really love him—" My eyes fixed on the boy's face. "—give him a proper title."
I leaned close to his ear, letting out a soft laugh.
"It's not that I won't step aside."
"Your beloved sister here just won't let me vacate my position so you can take my place. If you're really that capable—" I let the words drop, casual as a stone. "—make her agree. Make her fight for you the way she once fought for me. Make her open the Fox family's doors for you."
The boy went rigid. His expression shifted.
He looked at Isabella, unsteady, on the verge of collapse.
Isabella sighed.
She walked up to me.
"Dana."
Her voice was ice.
"Don't regret this."
She signed her name on the designated line—then turned back to comfort the boy.
"Happy now?"
He burst into tears of joy, throwing his arms around her. But his gaze found mine over her shoulder, a silent challenge. I understood perfectly. He was gloating. Savoring his victory. Telling me, without words:
He'd won.
I didn't spare Isabella another glance. Didn't acknowledge the boy's triumphant stare. The boulder that had been crushing my chest finally lifted.
I couldn't name what I felt.
I just sat in the empty villa, watching the movers methodically erase every trace of my existence, when my phone buzzed.
A video. From Isabella's little boy toy.
On screen:
Isabella pressed her lips to the back of his hand—reverent, as though he were the most precious thing in the world—and whispered:
"Tyler."
"My feelings for you aren't just words."
"The ceremony you want, the commitment you crave—I'll give you all of it. So—" She produced a ring, the diamond obscenely large, and slipped it onto Tyler's finger. "Are you happy now?"
Tyler laughed and cried at once, nodding frantically. Then he sent me a message:
[Dana, everyone says Isabella loved you so much back then that she defied her entire family just to marry you. That she knelt in the Fox family memorial hall for seven straight days—no food, no water—and endured their family punishment before they finally agreed.]
[Including your half-dead mother. The only reason she's still clinging to life is because Isabella brought in the best medical team money could buy.]
[But you don't know the truth, do you?]
Tyler sent another video.
[It was never what you thought.]
The lighting was dim.
Isabella's private club. Every face in that room was familiar to me.
I heard someone ask her:
"Izzy, you and Dana are such a mess. What's the point of any of this?"
Isabella sat in the center, toying with our wedding ring. The voice continued:
"Dana's been stepping out on you—what, five girls by now? Aren't you worried he'll bring home a disease? Doesn't it disgust you?"
