đ ISABELLA đ
Hard.
Her head jerked to the side, and still, she didn't fight back.
The slap echoed through the hall like the crack of a whip. I didn't flinch.
The satisfaction was electric.
"YOU BITCH!"
"Calm down, Isabella," my father snapped as he handed his briefcase to one of the maids, completely unfazed.
He stepped forward, fury simmering in every line of his face. The kind of fury that burned quietly and destroyed completely.
"You were supposed to close the Earl deal, not whore around like some cheap distraction."
"I did," Rose said quietly, her hand rising to her cheek, fingers trembling. "The deal is done."
Dad shoved his phone into her face. "Then explain this."
Photos. Grainy, but damning.
Her lips parted.
maybe to explain.
maybe to lie
but another slap cut her off. Then another.
This time, she swayed.
But she didn't fall. She didn't cry.
She stood.
"Go to your room," Dad snarled.
Rose didn't argue. She turned and ran up the stairs, disappearing like smoke.
The silence that followed was heavier than the air.
"I'll make sure Charles becomes yours," Dad said to me as he walked off, like it was some business transaction to be arranged.
I stood there, staring after him, trembling with satisfaction and shame.
Then, Mom leaned in closer, whispering, "I thought you wanted Shane, love."
"I did," I admitted. "But that bitch is already engaged to him. I can't go after Tyla, she's Untouchable. But Rose?" My nails bit into my palm. "She's vulnerable. And Charles... I want him."
My mother's lips curved in the coldest, calmest smile.
"Then she'll have to die. Just like her mother."
I froze.
"What did you just say?" I whispered.
But she was already walking away, heels striking marble like a countdown to war.
I ran after her. "Mom! What do you mean just like her mother? What did you do to her mother?"
đ ROSE đ
I didn't cry when I entered my room.
I didn't scream. I didn't collapse.
I just existed.
The mirror didn't lie. The handprint was there, angry, red, branded into my skin.
A message.
I washed my face, then caked on makeup heavier than ever. A mask. A shield. A lie.
Then Tyla's message buzzed: Meet me at Claudia's.
"Okay," I texted, grabbing my bag and walking out. I had no idea that today, everything would change.
I paused at the top of the stairs.
"Mom, what happened to Rose's mother? I thought you were her biological mom!" Isabella screamed.
I went still.
My blood turned to ice.
"I am not her biological mom," Eleanor said.
"Then who is?"
"Clara Hiddleson."
I gasped.
My feet faltered.
I'm... Hiddleson blood? The name vibrated through my bones.
"She's the only child of the Hiddleson family," Eleanor said coldly.
FLASHBACK â Clara Hiddleson
"I won't marry him, Mother. I love Gregory. I don't care what you say."
Clara stood defiant in the gold-trimmed halls of the Hiddleson estate, face flushed with fury and passion.
Her mother, Celeste Hiddleson, queen of composure, shook her head. "He is engaged to Eleanor Westwood. You are a Hiddleson. We do not chase after scraps."
Clara's eyes burned. "He doesn't love Eleanor."
Celeste's voice cracked like thunder. "And he does not love you either. He wants your money."
"I don't care!" Clara screamed. "I'll marry him, and I'll be happy."
Three months later, she did. Against all warnings. Against logic.
And the Hiddleson name was never the same again.
Clara married Gregory at a private villa in Greece, funded entirely by her inheritance. She glowed.
He smiled.
But behind his eyes? Strategy.
He married her for the money.
When Rose was born, the world saw a happy couple.
But inside their mansion, Gregory drifted. Distant. Cold.
And Eleanor? She seethed.
She was humiliated.
Gregory had left her for Clara. The city whispered. The elites laughed.
And Eleanor Westwood did not forget. She did not forgive.
So when the Hiddlesons died in a plane crash, sabotaged, some whispered, there were no questions asked. Only tears.
Clara lost everything. Her family. Her protection. Her power.
Then... she disappeared.
Everyone said she died of grief. That she drowned herself in the sea.
But the truth?
Eleanor had arranged it all.
The sabotage. The lies. The forced marriage. The "accident."
She drugged Clara. Bribed the maid. Burned the papers. Claimed custody of Rose.
Then she married Gregory, just like she planned.
And nine months later, Isabella was born.
đRose__PRESENTđ
I couldn't.
My feet hit the pavement, and I just... walked. No direction. No thoughts. Just the sound of blood rushing in my ears and the sting of my cheek pulsing in time with every heartbeat.
my bag felt like it weighed a thousand bricks. The makeup on my face was already cracking, melting under the pressure of the storm building inside me. A storm I had no words for. A storm that had no name.
I ended up somewhere near the coast, how far I'd walked, I don't know. I'd taken turns without looking. Crossed streets without checking. Maybe I was hoping something would hit me. Maybe I didn't care.
The sky was bruising into shades of blue and ash as the sea unfolded in front of me, wide, wild, endless. I stood at the edge of the rocks, watching the water crash like it wanted to swallow the world.
Then I screamed.
I screamed like I'd been set on fire. Like the truth had ripped open my chest and left me hollow.
I screamed until my voice broke.
"WHY?!"
My voice cracked, pathetic against the roar of the waves. Like the ocean gave a damn.
"Why did you lie to me? Why did you let me grow up in that house? Why, why did you let her touch me?!"
I dropped to my knees, gravel digging into my skin, but I didn't care. I didn't feel it.
My fists slammed into the earth. Again. And again. And again.
Tears spilled, but I didn't wipe them away. Let them fall. Let them burn.
"She let him slap me. She let her slap me. I thought I was weak, I thought," My throat closed. "I thought I deserved it."
I was sobbing now. Ugly, animalistic sobs that left me shaking. Snot and salt and humiliation poured from my face, and still, it wasn't enough.
"Clara Hiddleson," I whispered. "You were my mother. You left me."
The wind howled in answer. The sea surged.
I curled in on myself, forehead pressed to the cold stone beneath me. "They made me their pawn. And I let them. I didn't even know who I was."
And then... silence.
Not peace. Never peace.
But something settled.
A flicker.
A whisper.
Take it back.
I sat up, eyes swollen, mascara a disaster. I looked at my reflection in the water below, haunted, furious, fractured.
They took everything. My name. My blood. My mother. My worth.
And now?
Now they would pay for it.
One by one.
Not just for me, but for Clara.
For everything they burned to build their thrones.
I stood, hands clenched at my sides. I was still trembling, but it wasn't from weakness anymore.
It was from rage.
I didn't go to Claudia's.
Not like this.
I couldn't walk into that house with puffy eyes and a broken soul, not when Tyla would see everything I tried so hard to bury. Not when Claudia would ask the one question I had no answer for: "Are you okay?"
Because I wasn't.
And I wouldn't lie anymore.
So I turned around.
"Charles." The voice broke through the chaos swirling inside me.
Low, steady, calm.