The living room felt heavy. Walls closed in. Air pressed against her chest. Her bag sat at her feet. It was heavy. Full of remnants of a life she no longer belonged to. Smith stood by the window. Arms crossed. Eyes distant. Empty. Barbra lounged on the couch. Legs crossed. Lips curved in a faint, mocking smile. She seemed to own the room. Isabella kept her gaze low. Heart hammering. Breath jagged. Every second stretched like fire.
The sharp click of heels sliced through the tension. The front door opened. A voice followed. Authority. Contempt. She knew it too well.
"Smith," Jennifer said, stepping inside, "why is this timid local gold digger from a poor home still here?"
Her words struck like knives. Timid. Gold digger. Poor. Each syllable dug into wounds long scarred but never healed. Her chest tightened. The air itself felt colder.
Smith did not speak. Did not move. Did not defend her. He looked away. Pretended she did not exist.
Jennifer advanced. Expensive perfume clung to the air like a weapon. "I thought I made myself clear," she said sharply. "This marriage was a mistake. A girl from nowhere. Dragging her poverty into my son's life."
Barbra's lips curved. Enjoyed the cruelty. Isabella's knees trembled. She knew this pain. Childhood flashes rose like daggers. Helen's sharp tongue. Cold eyes of a stepmother. Useless. Worthless. A burden. She had survived by making herself small. Silent. She had clung to hope. Believed life might be fair one day.
Now, at twenty-four, she felt the same. Powerless as when she was ten.
Jennifer turned to Smith. "Why are you wasting time? Tell her to leave."
"She is leaving," Smith said coldly. "She is just packing her things."
Jennifer scoffed. "Good. Make sure she signs the divorce papers before she goes. I will not have her making claims later."
The word divorce hit like a fist. She flinched. She had accepted it in her mind. Hearing it aloud made it real. She lifted her head slowly. Pride bruised but flickering behind her eyes.
"I will sign," she said quietly. "I do not want anything from you."
Jennifer laughed. Thin. Mocking. "Of course you say that now."
Smith walked to the table. Picked up a folder. Dropped it in front of her. Did not look at her. "Sign," he said simply. "Let us end this."
Isabella stared at the papers. Fingers trembled as she picked up the pen. Each signature felt like carving pieces of herself away. Dreams erased little by little. A small business. A warm home. A family built on love. Life shared with someone who promised love. All gone.
Pain spread through her chest like fire. Body shook. Not from weakness. From the weight of a lifetime of rejection. No matter what she tried, she returned to the same place. Alone. Discarded. Invisible.
The last page was signed. She placed the pen down. Hands trembling. "I am done," she said.
Smith took the papers. No words. Jennifer skimmed them. Nodded. Satisfaction clear in her cold eyes. "Good riddance," she said. "Now take your things and go."
Isabella lifted her bag. Each step toward the door was heavy. Deliberate. Echoing painfully in the small room. Walls seemed to watch. Judge. Mark her defeat.
Her phone vibrated. She paused. A message glowed on the screen:
"Isabella, my grandma told me about your family past yesterday. I was so touched and sorry for you. She said that your father was killed by Matthew so he could steal your father's company."
Her breath caught. Words replayed in her mind. Matthew. Killed. Father. Company stolen.
A cold wave swept over her. Followed by hot, dark fire. Rage. Recognition. Pieces of her life clicked into place. Father's sudden death. The lawyer who disappeared. Helen's control over the estate. Poverty swallowing her childhood whole. And Matthew. Smith's father who had travelled to France for a business meeting and he was not around at that moment.
She turned slowly. Phone clutched in her hand.
Jennifer noticed. "What are you staring at?" she snapped.
Isabella stepped back. Closed the door. Fear. Tears. Trembling. Gone. Replaced by a cold, dangerous calm.
"Jennifer," she said. Voice steady. Clear. "You look very confident for someone whose family is built on blood and lies."
The room froze. Smith frowned. Barbra shifted. Unease flickered.
"I just learned something," Isabella continued. "About my father. About how he died."
Jennifer's face stiffened. Masked with irritation quickly. "Your father is irrelevant."
"No," Isabella said sharply. "He is very relevant. Matthew killed him."
Smith's eyes widened. "That is ridiculous."
Jennifer parted her lips. Regained control fast. "You have lost your mind."
Isabella laughed softly. Hollow. Bitter. "That is exactly what Helen used to say. When she stole from me. Maltreated me. Made me feel worthless."
Barbra stood slowly. Unease clear. "Smith, maybe I should go—"
"No," Isabella said firmly. "Stay. You deserve to hear this too."
Smith frowned. "How would you even know something like that?"
"My friend's grandmother was there," Isabella said. "She knew my father. Saw what Matthew did. Bribed the lawyer. Took the company. Helen helped him. You all lived comfortably while I grew up like nothing."
Jennifer's composure cracked. Flicker of fear in her eyes. Masked quickly. "You are lying."
Isabella stepped closer. Hands clenched. Heart steady despite pounding. "Am I? Or are you afraid the truth is catching up to you?"
Silence. Thick. Suffocating.
Smith glanced at his mother. "Mom?"
Jennifer's eyes darted away. One split-second. Enough.
"You knew," Isabella said quietly. "You all knew. And still treated me like dirt. Called me a gold digger. Your family stole everything from me."
Barbra swallowed hard. Confidence faltering. "Smith, you never told me any of this."
Smith ran a hand through his hair. "Mom, tell me she's lying."
Jennifer straightened. "This is nonsense. She's trying to manipulate you."
Isabella laughed louder. Sharp. Fearless. "Manipulate? I signed the divorce. I have nothing to gain. Except truth."
Heart thundered. "You took my father's life. His company. My childhood. Then you took my marriage."
Smith stepped back. Pale. Confused.
"I will get it all back," she said quietly. "Every single thing. Reclaim my father's property. Expose what you did. Bring justice."
Jennifer's face twisted. Rage. "You will do nothing. You are nobody."
Isabella held her gaze. Calm. Fierce. "That is what you want me to believe. I am my father's daughter."
Silence swallowed the room. Even Barbra could not find words.
Isabella lifted her bag. Hands steady. Posture strong. "This time, I am leaving on my terms."
She opened the door. Stepped outside. The air was cold. Sharp. Biting. But free. Her heart still ached. Bruised. Heavy. Beneath the pain burned determination. Raw. Unyielding.
They had taken everything from her once.
She would not let them do it again.
This time, Isabella would not stay silent.