A New Face

Isabella'S POV

“Give me a mirror,” I demanded. My hands were shaking, and my heart felt like it was about to explode out of my chest. My voice wavered, panicked, shaky. This couldn’t be happening. My face… the one thing I had left, wasn’t mine anymore.

Malakai hesitated. “Isabella, I don’t think—”

“Give me the damn mirror!” I screamed, the panic rising with every passing second. He stared at me for a moment. He didn’t respond but only stood up slowly, his face neutral. He walked out of the room and came back with a small hand mirror. He handed it to me gently, as if reconsidering.

I didn’t care.

I snatched the mirror from his hands and lifted it to my face, holding my breath. What stared back at me wasn’t me. Not even close. The woman in the mirror had the same almond-shaped green eyes, but everything else—my cheekbones, my jawline, my nose, my lips... everything was wrong.

I suddenly felt nauseous. This isn’t Isabella Monroe.

“No…” I whispered, my heart dropping. “No, no, no…” My hands traced my face; I looked different, softer. This isn’t me. “What did they do to me? What did they—” I choked out.

Isabella,” Malakai’s voice was calm. But I couldn’t hear it; the pounding of my heart was too loud in my ears. It felt like my whole world was spinning, and I suddenly couldn’t breathe.

“I don’t know you anymore,” I whispered to my reflection, my voice breaking. “This isn’t me.”

“You’re still you,” he said quietly. “You’re still here.”

I laughed, hollow and bitter. “I’m still here? But I’m not me anymore!” I threw the mirror on the bed. My hands were trembling; I felt like a stranger in my own body. “How can I live like this? How can I live when the last thing I had left to myself is gone?”

Malakai stepped closer, his expression hardened ever so slightly. “Isabella…”

“No!” I shouted as I began to hyperventilate; tears blurred my vision. “I don’t even know who I am anymore. I can’t look at myself! I can’t—”

“Would you rather be dead?” His words hit me like a slap, cutting off my spiraling thoughts. I froze, and silence settled. His question repeated itself in my head as I blinked, looking up at him.

“What?” I whispered, but I was speaking more to myself than anyone. Would I rather be dead? Forgotten? Abandoned?

Malakai’s green eyes held mine. He didn’t blink, nor did he look away. “Would you rather be dead, Isabella?” His voice was low and serious. That was when I asked myself. Would I rather let my life be stolen from me?

I…” My words became stuck in my throat, and I found myself unable to respond. I couldn’t answer. How could I answer?

I looked straight into his eyes, as if trying to convince myself otherwise. Malakai’s green eyes were locked on me. “You tell me, Isabella. If you had the choice right now, to be dead or to be here, alive—what would you choose?”

The lump in my throat grew larger as I tried to push back my unshed tears. I wanted to say dead. I wanted to tell him that everything that gave me a reason to live had been taken from me, that I had nothing left.

But I didn’t.

Because deep down, buried under all the anger and pain, I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to die. Tears burned my eyes. My hands curled into fists. I swallowed hard and turned my face away from his. I would rather be here, alive.

“That’s what I thought,” Malakai said quietly, his words flipping a switch in my mind. I am alive. Different. Broken. But alive.

Malakai stood. “You don’t have to like it. You don’t have to accept it right now. But you survived. And that means something.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. He sighed, turning around and moving toward the door. “Get some rest, Isabella.”

My eyes stared at his broad back as he walked away, but just as he reached the doors, the tears I had been pushing back fell. “Wait.” I said, making him stop in his tracks. Yet he didn’t turn around.

Malakai didn’t speak. He waited.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, but the tears wouldn’t stop. My chest felt tight and heavy, like I was suffocating under everything.

“I lost everything,” I whispered, my voice cracking as I struggled to get the words out. Malakai still didn’t turn around. He just stood there, listening.

“My father built Monroe Enterprises from the ground up,” I continued, my voice shaking. “He built it for me. Trusted me with it. And Simon—” I clenched my fists. “Simon took it. He took everything.” The words I spoke felt like acid in my throat.

“I gave him my trust. My loyalty. My love.” A bitter, humorless laugh escaped my lips. “For two years, I stood by his side, thinking we were in this together. That he loved me.” My breathing grew heavier. “But the whole time, he was planning this. He used me. Lied to me. He married me just to take what was mine. He sold me a lie.” 

Only then did Malakai turn around, his gaze falling on me. Quite honestly, I didn’t know why I was telling him all this, why I was ranting to someone I had just met. 

My tears fell freely now. “He looked me in the eyes and had me shot,” I whispered. “Like I was nothing. Like I was trash to be thrown away.” The room was silent except for my uneven breaths.

“What do I have left?” I asked mostly to myself, my voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me, what do I have left?”

Malakai's eyes studied me, and finally, he asked one question. Only one. “What exactly do you want, Isabella?”

The answer came so easily to me. So clearly. The fire and rage inside me burned hotter than ever. I lifted my chin, my tears still wet on my face. I knew what I wanted. Exactly what I wanted.

“Revenge.”

The word broke through the silence like glass. The corner of Malakai's lips lifted ever so slightly, almost like he expected it.

“Revenge is what I want