ISABELLA’S POV“Stop pacing.”My mother’s voice sliced through the room, quiet, controlled… but strained.I didn’t stop.My heels struck the marble harder, faster. Each step echoed like a ticking clock, like something inside me was running out.If I stopped, I’d lose control and I couldn’t afford that.“I said stop,” she repeated, her voice softer this time.Her hand rested on my shoulder, warm and steady.I froze.Not because I wanted comfort.Because I needed control.Slowly, I turned my head.She stood behind me, her fingers slipping into my hair, smoothing it down the way she used to when I was little—when things were simple.Before power had a price.“I’m fine,” I said.“You’re not.”Her tone dropped, quieter now. Careful.“I said I’m fine.”The words came out sharper than I meant, but I didn’t pull away.I didn’t stop her hand.Because even as anger burned through me, her touch kept me grounded.Across the room, my father sat in silence, one leg crossed, fingers steepled.Watchi
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