Bella's POV
If they think they can drop me off like a parcel at someone's doorstep and then waltz back into my life whenever it suits them, they are gravely mistaken.
The Bella they left behind is gone.
The girl who waited.
The girl who begged.
The girl who believed promises.
She is dead.
The woman sitting here now is not their princess.
She is a Queen.
We are seated in my living room, the silence so thick it feels like it could choke the air from my lungs. The ticking of the wall clock is the only sound, each second pounding against my skull like a warning.
Christian leans forward on the couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly. His eyes are dark, heavy with regret, like he hasn't slept properly since they left. He looks… broken.
Crystal, on the other hand, sits upright, shoulders squared, jaw tight. Pride and arrogance are carved into every line of his face, as if he still believes he owns the world and me.
And me?
I sit across from them, legs crossed elegantly, arms folded, spine straight. My expression is cold, controlled, and deliberately distant. I refuse to give them even a crack to slip through.
My gaze dares them to speak first.
Of course, Crystal is the first to break. He always is.
"Is someone going to say something," he snaps, irritation sharp in his voice, "or are we here to play a staring contest?"
I don't answer.
My silence is louder than his anger.
Christian exhales slowly, running a hand down his face before lifting his head. His voice is softer. Careful. Almost afraid.
"Princess, please…" he begins quietly. "We know we shouldn't have left you. At the time, we thought it was the best choice. We thought you'd be safer. But now we know…" His voice cracks just slightly. "Now we know it was the worst mistake of our lives."
My chest tightens just for a second.
He continues, eyes locked on mine. "We're not asking you to come back tonight. Just… don't shut us out. Take your time. Hate us if you need to. But don't erase us from your life."
For a moment just a moment I almost waver.
Almost.
Then Crystal, like always, destroys whatever fragile peace exists.
"Like hell I'm spending another night away from her," he growls, pushing up from the couch. "Whether she likes it or not, she's moving back into our house. Tonight."
Something inside me snaps.
Slowly, deliberately, I stand. I walk toward the door, my heels clicking softly against the floor. I sway my hips on purpose — not for seduction, but for power. For control.
Then I spin around to face him, my eyes icy, my voice sharp enough to cut.
"Get. Out. Of. My. House. And return only when your brain is fully charged, Crystal."
Christian's eyes widen in shock.
Crystal's face darkens instantly, red with fury.
"You think you can order me out of the house I paid for?" he roars, standing fully now.
My heart pounds, but I refuse to show fear. I take a step closer, lifting my chin defiantly.
"Then I'll gladly move out of the precious house you bought!" I scream back. "Because money does not buy ownership of me!"
I turn and storm toward the stairs, my hands shaking despite myself.
Behind me, Christian's voice cuts through the air like thunder.
"Crystal — BACK. THE. FUCK. DOWN."
Crystal laughs bitterly. "And if I don't?" he snaps. "What, you'll turn into a wolf for this whore?"
The word hits me harder than any slap ever could.
Whore.
My breath leaves my lungs. My vision blurs with hot, angry tears.
Before I can react, Christian lunges forward and punches Crystal hard across the jaw.
The sound is sickening.
Chaos erupts.
Fists fly.
Curses fill the room.
Furniture scrapes.
Two brothers tearing into each other like rabid animals, years of resentment and dominance issues exploding all at once in my living room.
"STOP!" I scream, rushing between them.
That's when it happens.
Crystal's fist swings wildly and connects with the side of my head.
Pain explodes in my ear.
White light flashes behind my eyes. The room spins. I stumble, nearly falling.
"Sweetness—" Crystal gasps, horror flashing across his face as he reaches for me.
But Christian shoves him back violently, eyes glowing with something dark. Something dangerous.
"Touch her again," Christian growls, voice low and lethal, "and you'll learn why they fear the name Spinster."
The raw dominance in his tone sends a shiver through me even through the pain.
Blood trickles warm down my neck.
Christian drops to his knees in front of me, hands hovering, afraid to touch me without permission.
"Bella, you're bleeding. Please let me help you."
I flinch away, shaking my head.
"No." My voice is broken but firm. "I want both of you gone. Now. Or I swear to God, I will disappear and you will never see me again."
Christian freezes.
He knows I mean it.
Slowly, he stands, walks to the cabinet, grabs the first aid kit, and places it gently into my hands. Crystal has already stormed out, the door slamming so hard the walls shake.
Christian lingers at the door, his face unreadable, pain and anger warring in his eyes.
"Next time," I say coldly, pressing the ice pack to my ear, "remember to keep your dog on a leash."
For the briefest second, the corner of his mouth twitches almost a smile. Then it vanishes, replaced by his usual stoic mask.
Without another word, he turns and leaves.
The house is silent again.
I sink onto the couch, ice pressed to my bleeding ear, heart racing, hands trembling.
I stare at the ceiling and whisper to myself:
"They want a princess.
But they will learn…
to bow to a queen."