Brandon's fingers clamped around her wrist, dragging her across the foyer without hesitation.
His grip was so tight that Isabella felt her bones grind beneath his hold, but he didn't slow down, didn't even look at her. He simply hauled her toward a quiet corner as if she were an object he owned.
Her voice came out sharp and low. "Brandon, let go of me."
"I won't." His reply was cold, twisted with anger and wounded pride. "Since you're so cheap now—letting other men touch you—why can't I touch you too? Tell me, Isabella, how much did that man pay you last night? I'll give you double."
Her breath stopped.
Her body went rigid.
And then, in a single movement fueled by fury and humiliation, she ripped her wrist free and slapped him across the face.
SMACK.
The sound cracked through the hallway like lightning.
Brandon staggered a step back, startled. He lifted a hand to his cheek, but couldn't seem to understand what had just happened.
Isabella's voice was a blade of ice. "Calm down, Brandon. The woman you want to touch is standing right over there." She flicked a glance toward Vanessa without the slightest hesitation. "And for the record, I would never go to bed with a cheating bastard like you. No matter how much money you shove at me."
She straightened her wrinkled blouse, turned her back, and walked up the stairs with long, decisive strides—her dignity wrapped tightly around her like armor.
Brandon remained frozen in place long after she disappeared from view. He touched his cheek again, as if that stinging heat proved she was no longer the woman he remembered.
Upstairs, the moment Isabella entered her mother's bedroom, the familiar scent of disinfectant drifted out—cold, sterile, and heavy with years of helplessness.
Serena lay against her pillows, her once-elegant figure now thin and fragile from five years of illness. She looked up the moment she heard the door open, worry clouding her gentle eyes.
"Isabella? What's happening downstairs? So many voices… so many people… Did something happen?"
The question pierced straight into Isabella's chest.
She walked to the wardrobe, keeping her back turned so her mother wouldn't see the tears threatening to fall. She forced a smile that felt like it was carved onto her skin.
"It's nothing, Mom. The Hughes family came to discuss wedding matters, that's all." She grabbed a clean set of clothes, clutching them tightly. "I stayed at a friend's place last night, so I didn't get to change. I'm a little tired, so I'll take a shower first. We can talk later, okay?"
Before her mother could ask more, Isabella slipped into the adjoining bathroom and closed the door behind her.
Inside, she pressed her back to the cold tiles and exhaled shakily.
Her mask finally cracked.
She turned on the shower and let the water drown out her trembling breath.
Everything felt impossible.
Everything hurt.
Her mother had been so excited when she heard about the engagement. She had insisted on giving Isabella the Cruz family's heirloom—the Angel's Heart necklace her father had gifted her when they were young.
Even while bedridden, half-paralyzed, Serena had worn the happiest smile Isabella had seen in five years.
Isabella had believed she could marry Brandon.
She believed she could bring her mother hope again.
She believed she could return the warmth that illness had stolen from her.
Now the engagement was over.
And Isabella had no idea how to tell her.
Her mother's health was fragile. Any shock could worsen her condition.
Isabella leaned her forehead against the tile, letting the water run over her face like it could wash away heartbreak. "What should I do..." She clenched her fists, the tears streaming down her cheek that were being washed away by the water.
Suddenly...
Her stepmom's voice drifted into the room from the bedroom beyond, falsely sweet and unmistakably smug.
"Sister, it's been too long since I visited! You look wonderful—still so strong!"
Isabella froze mid-rinse in recognition.
Chloe.
This is the woman who had replaced her mother in every way in the family. She is the one who brought Vanessa into their home and took over the Cruz family the moment Serena fell ill.
Isabella hurried to rinse off, barely drying herself before throwing on a bathrobe and darting out.
But she was still one step too late.
"I don't want to disturb your rest," Chloe continued dramatically, "but I have very important news! Ethan asked me to tell you about the family heirloom, the Angel's Heart necklace."
Serena's weak voice responded faintly. "What… about it?"
"Well," Chloe said with exaggerated sympathy, "Ethan wants to give it to Vanessa for the engagement. Oh—did no one tell you? I almost forgot! You hardly ever leave this room, after all…"
Isabella stood in the doorway, drenched hair dripping water onto the floor, her bathrobe clinging to her trembling frame.
Her stepmom had just stabbed her mother with the cruelest possible news.
And she had done it with a smile.
"You see," she announced, eyes gleaming, "Isabella's engagement with Brandon is over. Completely dissolved. The head of the Hughes family came today to set a new wedding date for Brandon and Vanessa." She paused, savoring her own words as if they were a gourmet dessert.
"Right now, the whole family is out choosing dresses for her. And since the Cruz family can hardly afford anything anymore… we need the Angel's Heart necklace for Vanessa's dowry. She is the first daughter getting married, after all."
It was astonishing how a person could smile so brightly while shattering someone else's world.
Isabella had expected cruelty from Chloe. She had expected pettiness, jealousy, viciousness. But even now—when Vanessa's marriage was practically guaranteed—Chloe still couldn't resist twisting the knife deeper into her mother's heart.
This was her mother's room. Her mother's house. Her mother's heirloom.
And yet Chloe barked orders like she owned the place.
"Mom, please…" Isabella stepped forward, trying to regain control of the moment. "Let me explain—"
But Serena's eyes were already wide, filled with panic and disbelief. "Isabella… is this true? The engagement with Brandon… It's broken?"
Her trembling fingers clutched the book in her lap until the pages bent.
"Mom, don't worry," Isabella whispered quickly, grabbing her mother's hand. "It doesn't matter anymore. It's fine. Please don't be upset. Please…"
But her mother could barely hear her. Her voice rose—frantic, uneven, her breathing quickening.
"Isabella, why didn't you tell me? How could this happen? How—why—"
Isabella felt panic coil inside her. The doctor's warning echoed in her head: avoid upsetting her at all costs.
Her mother's complexion was reddening rapidly, her breath shortening.
Isabella snatched her phone to call emergency services—
But Chloe grabbed it mid-dial.
"Don't change the topic!" Chloe snapped, snatching the phone away. "And sister, let's be reasonable. Your daughter can't be married now. What use is keeping the heirloom? Ethan says it should go to Vanessa. Where is it? You must know. Even if you want to pretend you're sick, you're not dead yet—you can still fetch the necklace!"
Then, with a burst of cruelty so sudden that Isabella felt sick, she reached toward Serena's shoulders and shook her.
"Stop acting weak! You want to go to the hospital? Fine. But hand over the necklace first—unless you'd rather die clutching it. I won't let you off that easily!"
Isabella saw red on her mother's neck.
Chloe had always been a parasite feeding off the Cruz family—but this was different. This was her mother. Her paralyzed, helpless mother.
Her blood boiled.
Chloe talked sweetly when others were around, but inside, she was a pit of resentment. She hated Serena for being the legal wife. Hated Isabella for being legitimate. Hated that even bedridden, Serena still stood above her.
She had waited five years for this moment—to prove she was the true mistress of the Cruz family.
"Let go!" Isabella's scream ripped from her throat before she even realized it. She rushed forward, prying Chloe's hands off her mother.
"Oh, don't play the high-and-mighty socialite with me!" Chloe sneered. "Have you seen the news today? You're nothing now. A broken shoe no one wants anymore. Used goods! Why keep acting like you're special? Hand over the necklace! It's worth seven figures—you and your mother must want the money. But that's impossible! If you don't hand it over, you can watch your mother die right here!"
Serena's breathing grew harsher, her fingers limp and cold in Isabella's grip.
And suddenly, everything fell into place.
The necklace.
The rumors.
Her mother's health.
And the truth she had avoided admitting until now—
Her mother was all she had.
The necklace meant nothing in comparison.
Face burning with fury, Isabella spun toward the bedside drawer. Her hands shook as she yanked it open.
Inside lay a velvet box—the one her mother had once shown her with such pride.
She grabbed it, ripped it open, and hurled the necklace straight at Chloe.
The chain glinted in the air as it flew.