CHAPTER TWO

Isabella's POV 

“Give me that necklace, Isabella. You're marrying a billionaire. You don't need it anymore.”

Vanessa stood in front of my dressing table, holding the only piece of jewellery I had ever truly treasured.

It was a delicate gold necklace with a small emerald pendant, a gift from my grandmother before she passed away. She had given it to me on my eighteenth birthday, telling me that no matter what happened, I should never allow anyone to make me feel worthless.

“Put it down, Vanessa.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Don't be ridiculous. I'm going to be Adrian's wife, and you know he isn't wealthy yet. The least you can do is let me have something decent to wear to my wedding.”

“Then buy yourself something.”

“With what money?”

I glanced at the designer handbag hanging from her shoulder.

“Perhaps you could sell one of your bags.”

Her expression darkened. “Isabella, don't start acting superior just because you're marrying Nathaniel Blackwood.”

I walked towards her and held out my hand.

“Give me my necklace.”

For a moment, she looked as though she might refuse. Then she smiled and placed it in my palm.

“Fine. Keep your precious little necklace.”

I turned towards my suitcase, intending to put it away.

Behind me, something crashed.

I spun around.

My suitcase lay on its side, its contents scattered across the bedroom floor. Vanessa stood beside it, one hand covering her mouth.

“Oh, Isabella! Look what you've done!”

I stared at her. “Excuse me?”

“Why would you throw your things around like that? Are you really so upset about marrying Nathaniel?”

Before I could respond, she raised her voice.

“Mother! Father! Please come upstairs!”

I almost admired her speed.

Less than a minute later, Mother appeared in the doorway, followed by Father.

“What on earth is going on?” Mother demanded.

Vanessa immediately rushed towards her. “Mother, I only came to help Isabella pack, but she started accusing me of stealing her things. Then she became angry and knocked over her suitcase!”

I looked at the clothes scattered across the floor.

Vanessa had always been a convincing liar, especially when our parents were eager to believe her.

“That's not what happened,” I said.

Mother rounded on me. “Isabella! Must you always make everything difficult?”

“You haven't even asked me what happened.”

“Your sister has explained everything!”

“And you believe her?”

“Why wouldn't I?”

Then her thoughts came to me. Vanessa is already sacrificing so much by marrying that poor young man. The least Isabella can do is stop making trouble.

I glanced at Vanessa. She stood behind Mother, looking suitably distressed.

Go on, Isabella. Argue with them. The more you complain, the worse you'll look.

I bent down and began gathering my clothes.

“I'm leaving soon. There's no point arguing.”

Father cleared his throat.

“Actually, Isabella, there's something we need to discuss before you leave.”

I straightened.

“What is it?”

“Your savings.”

My hands stilled.

“What about them?”

Father entered the room and sat on the edge of my bed.

“Your mother and I have been discussing Vanessa's marriage. Adrian is a promising young man, but his business needs additional capital. We think it would be appropriate for you to contribute towards his expansion.”

I stared at him.

“You want me to give Adrian money?”

“Not Adrian directly. Your sister. She can decide how best to support her husband.”

“How much?”

Father folded his arms.

“All of it.”

For several seconds, I couldn't speak.

Then I laughed.

It wasn't a pleasant laugh.

“You want my entire savings?”

“Don't be dramatic, Isabella. You're marrying into the Blackwood family. Nathaniel has more money than you could possibly spend.”

Mother nodded.

“Exactly. Vanessa, on the other hand, is starting from nothing. As her younger sister, you should want to help her.”

Besides, Nathaniel will provide everything Isabella needs. Why should she keep money that could help Vanessa?

Father's thoughts followed immediately.

That girl has been saving for years. There must be at least two hundred thousand dollars in her account. Adrian could do something useful with that amount.

Two hundred thousand dollars.

I looked at him carefully.

He knew exactly how much I had saved.

Apparently, my finances had been a topic of family discussion long before today.

“Father, that money belongs to me.”

“And who raised you?” he demanded.

I swallowed the bitter response rising in my throat.

Raised me?

When I was eighteen, Father had refused to pay my university tuition because he had just purchased Vanessa a new car.

“Your sister has greater prospects,” he had explained. “We can't afford to waste money on unnecessary expenses.”

I had worked evenings at a restaurant and spent weekends tutoring younger students to pay my fees.

Later, when I developed an interest in finance, I enrolled in professional courses without telling anyone.

I studied investment analysis, corporate finance, and financial modelling while working two part-time jobs.

There were nights when I returned home so exhausted that I fell asleep over my textbooks.

Yet whenever relatives visited, Mother introduced Vanessa as her brilliant, accomplished daughter.

And me?

“Isabella has never been particularly ambitious,” she would say with a disappointed smile.

When I received my first professional certification, Father barely glanced at it.

“Certificates won't make you useful,” he told me.

But now they wanted the money I had earned through the very skills they had dismissed.

“I paid my own tuition,” I said quietly. “I worked for everything in that account. Neither of you contributed a cent.”

Mother's face reddened.

“How dare you speak to us like that?”

“I'm stating the truth.”

“Whatever you earned, you earned because we gave you a home!”

I looked around the bedroom.

The faded curtains. The old wardrobe. The bed I had purchased myself after the previous one collapsed.

A home.

Apparently, that was enough to justify taking everything I owned.

Vanessa stepped forward. “Isabella, don't be selfish. Adrian only needs a little help getting started. Once his business succeeds, I'm sure he'll repay you.”

Not that I'll ever let him waste money repaying her. Once we're rich, she can beg all she wants.

I almost smiled.

There it was.

The same greed that had destroyed her previous marriage.

“No,” I said.

Father frowned. “What did you say?”

“I said no. I'm not giving Vanessa my savings.”

The room went silent.

Mother stared at me as though I had slapped her.

“Isabella Whitmore, have you forgotten who you're speaking to?”

“No, Mother. I know exactly who I'm speaking to.”

Father rose from the bed.

“Think carefully before you make a decision you'll regret.”

“I already have.”

“Very well!”

He pointed towards the door. “If you insist on being so ungrateful, don't expect us to provide your dowry.”

I looked at him.

The dowry.

Father had promised each of us a substantial marriage settlement, money and property intended to help us establish our new households.

Vanessa's settlement included a furnished apartment, shares in Whitmore Enterprises, and a cash gift.

Mine had been considerably smaller.

Even so, Father had promised me fifty thousand dollars.

Now he was taking that away too.

“Are you saying you won't give me anything?”

“Not a single cent until you learn to respect this family.”

Mother lifted her chin. “Your father is being generous by allowing you to leave without apologising.”

She'll come begging once Nathaniel discovers how little she has. Men from wealthy families don't respect women who bring nothing into a marriage.

Vanessa laughed softly. “Well, Isabella, this is embarrassing.”

I turned towards her.

She crossed her arms, smiling.

“Imagine marrying into the Blackwood family without a dowry. What will Nathaniel's relatives think when they discover you arrived with nothing?”

Let's see how long she lasts when those wealthy people start looking down on her.

I considered telling her that Nathaniel Blackwood had never appeared particularly interested in his wife's family wealth.

Then I remembered how little I actually knew about him.

There was no reason to make promises on his behalf.

“Whatever they think,” I replied, “I'll deal with it.”

Vanessa's smile faltered. “You're really going to leave like this?”

“Yes.”

“Without Father's money?”

“Yes.”

She stared at me.

Why isn't she upset? She should be crying and begging them to reconsider.

Mother seemed equally confused. “Isabella, this is your last opportunity to apologise.”

I picked up my suitcase and placed it on the bed.

Then I carefully folded the clothes Vanessa had scattered across the floor.

“I have nothing to apologise for.”

Father's face hardened. “Once you walk out of this house, don't come back asking us for help.”

I zipped my suitcase. “I won't.”

Mother opened her mouth but I had already lifted my bag.

As I approached the doorway, Vanessa stepped aside.

“Good luck, little sister. I hope your wealthy husband doesn't discover how poor his bride really is.”

I stopped beside her.

For a moment, I remembered Adrian's face on the night he killed me.

Then I remembered the years I had spent trying to earn the love and approval of people who had never valued me.

I had wasted one lifetime doing that.

There would not be another.

“Take good care of Adrian, Vanessa,” I said.

She smiled triumphantly. “Oh, I intend to.”

Soon, I'll have everything you once had.

I returned her smile.

“I sincerely hope you do.”

Her expression flickered with confusion, but I was already walking away.

Nobody followed me downstairs.

Nobody offered to carry my luggage.

By the time I reached the front door, I could hear Mother comforting Vanessa upstairs.

I stepped outside and found a sleek black Rolls-Royce waiting beside the driveway.

A middle-aged man in a dark suit stood beside it.

The moment he saw me, he approached.

“Miss Whitmore?”

“Yes?”

He bowed respectfully. “My name is Mr. Harrison. I'm Mr. Blackwood's personal driver.”

I glanced at the car. “I wasn't expecting anyone.”

“Mr. Blackwood instructed me to collect you personally.”

He reached for my suitcase. “Please allow me.”

I hesitated before handing it over.

He placed it carefully in the boot, then returned to open the rear passenger door.

“Miss Whitmore, there's something you should know before we leave.”

I looked at him.

“What is it?”

“Mr. Blackwood has already made all the arrangements for your arrival. Everything you'll need has been prepared.”

I frowned slightly. “Everything?”

Mr. Harrison smiled. “Yes, Miss Whitmore. Mr. Blackwood was quite specific about ensuring you wouldn't have to worry about anything.”

He stepped aside, holding the door open.

“Your new home is ready, Mrs. Blackwood.”

I stared at him, not knowing what to say.