Kill Isabella Monroe.

ISABELLA'S POV

Malakai didn't look surprised; he didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. If anything, it was like he had been waiting for me to say it. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Revenge,” he repeated slowly, as if waiting for my confirmation.

I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand. “Yes.” I had never been so sure about anything in my life like I was sure of this.

His green eyes locked onto mine, studying me. “And how exactly do you plan on getting it?”

“I’ll figure it out,” I said, trying to keep my voice firm, to assure myself that I was right, though deep down, I wasn’t sure how.

Malakai let out a low hum, as if he found amusement in my situation. “With what resources? What connections? The world thinks you’re dead, Isabella . Your name, your power, your wealth—none of it exists anymore.”

His words were true, but they were heavy on me. He wasn’t wrong. I was nobody now. I didn't know what to say.

“Do you think you’re ready for revenge?” He asked, stepping away from the door and walking closer. My brows furrowed as I looked up at him.

“What do you mean by that?” I barely managed to ask. I am sure I’m ready for revenge; I’m ready to regain everything I’ve ever lost; I’m ready to make sure Simon regrets everything he’s done to me.

Malakai didn't soften his tone, and his eyes remained stoic. "If you want revenge, you'll have to kill the person you were. The world already thinks you're dead. So, you'll have to bury that version of yourself. Kill Isabella Monroe. The woman who had everything—wealth, power, a name. The woman who was betrayed. That woman's gone."

His words were like a slap to my face. Kill Isabella Monroe? How was I supposed to leave behind who I am? The world thinks I'm dead. No one knows I'm alive. And now, if I want revenge, I have to leave everything behind, including who I was. My identity was the only thing I had left.

“I—“ I didn’t have the words, and I couldn’t form a sentence; I only stared at him as if he had grown two horns. Kill Isabella Monroe, the woman who was betrayed, the woman who trusted too easily, the woman who lost everything because she was too blinded to see the truth. Those were the words that rang in my head.

"Do you think you're strong enough for that?" he asked, his voice quieter now. "You're falling apart over your face, Isabella . What makes you think you can get revenge when you're losing your mind over a scar?"

My hands clenched into fists at his words. "I can handle it," I spat out, my voice shaking from frustration and realization of a truth I didn’t want to believe.

But Malakai continued nonetheless. "Can you? Can you handle killing the person you were? Losing your past? You'll be no one. No company. No legacy. No family.” He stopped for a while, just staring at me. “Your face isn't just a scar. It's a symbol of the new you. It's not a con, Isabella ."

I hated how right he was. The words stung, and it made me want to scream. I wanted to break something. But instead, I sat there, silent, staring at him. My heart was beating so fast in my chest, and my body felt heavy. My whole life was slipping through my fingers.

“Don’t you get it?” I whispered, unable to keep the crack out of my voice. “I can’t just forget who I was. I can’t let go of everything. I... I don't know if I can," I whispered, shaking my head.

"You will," Malakai said firmly. "You don't have a choice. This is your only option if you want revenge."

I looked at him once more; my mind was racing. Who exactly is Malakai, and why is he even helping me? Was it even possible to rebuild myself from nothing? Even if it isn’t, make it possible, Isabella . Take back what is rightfully yours. The voice in my head responded to my countless questions.

"Fine," I muttered, picking up the mirror that I left on the bed. I looked at the face that stared back at me. This face didn’t belong to Isabella Monroe; I’m not her anymore. "I'll change. I'll bury her. I said, this time, with conviction. “I'll leave that woman behind."

Then I looked away from the mirror and turned my gaze to the green eyed man that stood in front of me. “What do you want from me? Why are you helping me? What's in it for you?" I wanted to know. Who would save someone, pay for their care for six months, and help them regain their lives if they didn’t expect anything in return?

Malakai didn't answer right away. He only stared at me, as if chewing his wires. I tried to read his expression, to read his eyes. But I failed. Then, without a word, he stepped back. "Rest," he said, his voice softer. "You need to be sure. You have a few days to think about it."

"Days?" I asked, confusion flooding me. "What do you mean?"

"You're not going anywhere yet," he replied. "You're staying here until the doctors clear you. Use the time to get your mind straight. After that, we're going to move forward. I'm coming for you. We'll figure out what happens next."

"You're coming for me?" I asked, my voice shaky. "You're taking me with you?"

Malakai gave a slight nod. "Yes."

I shook my head, still trying to understand. "And what if I have more questions? What if I want to know more about what's going on? Why are you helping me?"

Malakai raised a brow. “Do you want my help or not?” He asked, and I was sure his question was rhetorical; he already knew my answer. He was my only hope.

“I do.” I said, looking away from his piercing eyes. 

"Good," he said, his expression softening just slightly. "I'll be back tomorrow."

With that, he turned and walked out the door, leaving me alone in the room, and the dripping of the saline became the only sound I could hear. I stared at the door he had just walked out of, holding my breath.

I lay back down on the bed a while later, staring at the ceiling as multiple thoughts ran through my mind. Everything was changing so fast. I was leaving behind who I was. I had to. I closed my eyes, but three words kept ringing in my head, reminding me of what I had to do.

Kill Isabella Monroe.