Breaking Point

The moment Isabella entered her room, she shut the door behind her and walked towards bed and collapsed face-first onto the bed. Her whole body trembled. Her chest rose and fell as if she couldn’t get enough air.

Her throat tightened, and then the tears came hot and uncontrollable. She buried her face in the pillow, muffling the sound of her sobs, but they still broke through, raw and uneven.

Her shoulders shook as she cried harder. She pressed her fists into the sheets, her nails digging into the fabric as if it could anchor her to something.

She cried until her voice grew hoarse, until her eyes burned like fire. Each breath came out in sharp gasps. Why does it always have to be me?

Exhaustion eventually pulled her under. Her sobs quieted, her wet lashes sticking together as her eyes finally closed. She drifted into a restless, broken sleep.

The sound of shattering glass jolted her awake. Her heart jumped painfully in her chest. She sat upright, wide-eyed. The room was dim now, painted in the orange glow of the setting sun.

Her ears strained. Then she heard voices.

Her father’s voice.

“Mr. Romano is looking for a wife,” Richard said, his tone matter-of-fact, like he was discussing groceries. “And Isabella will make a great wife for him.”

Her stepmother’s voice followed. “Yes, that’s the best thing for her. She’s no use in this house. She’s of legal age already, so why waste more time? Better to marry her off.”

Isabella’s stomach twisted violently. Her hands flew to her mouth, stifling the sob that threatened to escape. She pressed her back against the door, tears spilling again.

They want to sell me… like I’m nothing.

Then Damien’s voice, softer, uncertain. “But Dad… Isabella is not that useless. At least she works and brings money into the house. I don’t think it’s wise to just hand her off in marriage. Who’s going to take care of Isolde? Everyone knows Isabella’s the one working.”

For a moment, Isabella’s heart clenched. Maybe… maybe he still cared.

But her father’s cruel laugh crushed that fragile hope.

“You’re right. But Mr. Romano has promised one hundred thousand dollars~plus gifts and furniture. That’s enough to start a business and live well until Isolde graduates. After that, she’ll take care of us.”

The words stabbed into Isabella’s chest. Her tears blurred her sight, her breath catching painfully. One hundred thousand dollars. That was her worth.

Her knees weakened. She wanted to scream, to rush into the living room and shout at them, but before she could, some opened the door from the outside and it was Isolde.

Her stepsister’s smirk widened as she shoved Isabella back into the room, closing the door with a soft click. She leaned close, her eyes glimmering with cruel delight.

“Sister,” she whispered, her voice dripping venom, “can’t you see? Dad and Damien don’t even want you. Are you really that slow, or do you just not understand?”

Isabella’s fists shook at her sides. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall in front of Isolde.

Isolde tilted her head mockingly. “Mom, Dad, Brother, and I~we don’t want you here. You grew up in the orphanage. You’re ill-mannered. Stupid. Just like your mother.”

The words pierced straight through Isabella. Her lips trembled as she whispered, “Don’t you dare speak ill of my mother.” Her voice cracked with rage and grief.

Isolde giggled softly. “Come on, Sister. You know it doesn’t matter what you say. They’ll always take my side. Do you want me to prove it?”

That’s when Isabella noticed the jagged shard of glass in her stepsister’s hand.

“Watch and see,” Isolde hissed.

Before Isabella could move, Isolde dragged the glass across her own wrist.

Blood welled instantly. It dripped to the floor as Isolde collapsed with a scream.

“Mom! Dad!” she wailed dramatically.

The door burst open within seconds.

Clarissa, Richard, and Damien rushed in.

Damien dropped to his knees beside Isolde, his hands shaking as he tried to cradle her. His face was pale with panic.

Richard’s fury turned immediately on Isabella. His palm cracked across her face so hard she staggered backward, tears springing to her eyes from the sharp sting.

Clarissa gasped, pretending to comfort her bleeding daughter.

Damien stood, his face twisted with anger. His eyes locked onto Isabella, cold and accusing. Then his hand struck her cheek too.

The second slap broke her. The sting was nothing compared to the way his eyes looked at her~with hatred, with disgust.

Her tears spilled uncontrollably now, sliding down her cheeks as she whispered hoarsely, “Damien… how can you believe her?”

Isolde whimpered weakly, her voice dripping with fake innocence. “I only came to comfort Isabella after what happened this morning… but she snapped. She cut me with glass.”

“Liar!” Isabella cried out, her voice breaking. Her chest heaved as she tried to defend herself. But no one cared.

Richard turned away from her. “Clarissa, get bandages.”

Damien gently lifted Isolde into his arms and carried her out, leaving Isabella standing in her tears, her body trembling with rage and despair.

But then Damien returned. He shut the door behind him, his eyes dark. Slowly, he unbuckled his belt.

Isabella froze, her heart slamming against her ribs. “What are you doing?”

Damien’s voice was low, deadly. “You can’t stand seeing Isolde happy, can you? You’ve hated her from the beginning. Admit it ~you hate her.”

As he raised the belt, Isabella’s hand shot up, catching it mid-air. Her palm burned, but she didn’t let go.

Her tears streamed down, but her voice rose with fury. “Ever since I came into this house, everything that should have been mine was handed to your precious sister! My money. My life. My happiness. All stolen from me!”

Her voice cracked as her sobs broke through. “And every time she frames me, you never care. Not once did you ever believe me. You disgust me, Damien. You’re not my brother~you’re just like the rest of them!”

She yanked the belt free, shoved him backward, and stormed out.

In the living room, all eyes turned to her.

Her cheeks wet with tears, her voice raw, Isabella cried out, “You want to sell me off in marriage? I’m not interested!”

Richard’s face darkened. “What did you say?”

“I said I’m done!” she shouted, her voice cracking, her chest heaving. “I don’t want anything to do with this family anymore!”

Richard surged to his feet and swung at her, but she stepped back. His hand sliced the air instead.

Her tears glistened as she glared at him. “I’ll leave tomorrow morning. You’ll never have to deal with me again.”

The room fell silent.

Isolde’s face turned pale. Fear flickered across her expression. If Isabella left, who would she blame? Who would work?

Desperate, she grabbed Isabella’s hand. “Sissy, I’m sorry. Please, don’t go.”

Isabella yanked her hand away, her voice cold. “Don’t ever call me that again.”

She marched back into her room, slammed the door, and locked it. Her body shook as she slid to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. Her tears wouldn’t stop, but her decision was firm.

Tomorrow, she would leave.

***************************************************************************************************

Across town, in a dimly lit study, Alessandro sat behind his desk. A cigar burned slowly between his fingers, smoke curling lazily into the air. His sharp eyes glowed under the golden lamp.

He exhaled a long stream of smoke, leaning back in his chair. Then he pressed a button on the desk.

A guard stepped inside immediately. “Boss?”

Alessandro’s voice was calm but commanding. “You see the young lady we met this morning?” He tapped the cigar against the ashtray, his gaze never leaving the window. “I want everything about her. Where she lives. Who her family is. Every detail.”

He inhaled again, his jaw tightening. “And I want it submitted to me by the end of today. Do you understand?”

The guard bowed slightly. “Yes, boss. I’ll get it done right away.”

Alessandro nodded once. His eyes narrowed as he stared into the smoke-filled air, his thoughts hidden.