|Isabella|
"Who—who is this sexy girl, Ivan?" William blurted out, clearly amused. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"
Ivan shot him a sharp look. "Hey. She's my sister," he warned. "So stay the hell away from her."
She rolled her eyes immediately. "Ivan, please. I'm grown now. You don't get to decide who I talk to and who I don't."
Then she turned toward us, her confidence effortless.
"Hi. I'm Penelope Morozov."
"William Ashcroft," William replied quickly, already smiling as he shook her hand.
Ivan gestured toward us one by one. "And these are my friends. This is Charlotte—she says hi. This is Eleanor. And this is Isabella."
Before Ivan could finish, Adriano stepped forward. "Adriano Ivanovo," he said smoothly. "Friends call me Adi."
Penelope's eyes lifted to him, and for a brief second, the air between them felt… charged. I watched it happen.
I don't know why my chest tightened the way it did. I stared at her—at the way she stood so easily, so confidently, at how naturally she owned the attention around her. And then I looked at Adriano. That's when my heart sank.
His expression wasn't casual. It wasn't polite. It was interested. Jealousy hit me suddenly, sharp and unexpected. It hadn't even been five minutes since she arrived, and already I felt something ugly twist inside me.
Without thinking, I clutched Adriano's hand tightly. I lifted my chin and looked straight at her, forcing my best smile onto my face.
"Yes," I said clearly, leaving no room for doubt. "Adriano. My boyfriend."
I couldn't stop myself. I needed her to know -- Adriano Ivanovo was mine.
"Oh… I thought…" she murmured to herself, her voice trailing off. She shook her head slightly, and then brought back that effortless, beautiful smile, as if nothing had touched her at all. Before I could say anything else, Charlotte suddenly stepped forward, cheerful as ever.
"Why don't you join us tomorrow?" she said excitedly. "We're having a party at Eleanor's house—it's her birthday. I think you'll really enjoy it, Penelope."
I bit my lip hard, stopping myself from saying something stupid. My nails dug into my palm, the pressure grounding me. I didn't know why, but I couldn't handle the idea of her becoming part of us—our circle, our space.
I shot Charlotte a sharp look.
In my mind, I was already thinking about her presentation—the one I had promised to help her with. And in that moment, anger burned through me so strongly that I decided I wouldn't lift a finger for it anymore.
This time, Adi hummed in agreement with Charlotte's idea."Yeah, that would be great," he said easily. "Then we can get to know each other better."My blood boiled instantly.
Before I could say anything, Ivan cut in."I'll take her there. Don't worry about it," he said firmly.William opened his mouth to respond, but Ivan didn't give him the chance.
"No need to do anything, William," Ivan continued coolly. "I'm still here. Her brother is still here. And I'm invited to the birthday party too—so I'll take her. Okay?"
Everything on the outside went smoothly as I literally forced myself to attend my next class, my mind wasn't at the board, my mind was constantly thinking about Adie and his posture, his admiration, his nervousness.
After college ended, Adie told me he needed to leave early. He wanted to visit his grandfather, Giuseppe—the man he lovingly called Gappy. I only hummed in response, forcing a smile before heading home on my own.
The moment I reached my room, I kicked off my heels and slumped onto the bed. I stared at nothing, sulking, when my phone rang.
Papa.
"Hey, my little princess," my father, Amadeo, said warmly. His voice was full of love and excitement. He loved me endlessly, spoiled me without limit. Truly, he was the best father in the world.
I smiled instantly-"I'm doing great, Papa. How's your chest pain? Are you taking your medicines on time, or does Mom still have to remind you every single time?" I teased gently, knowing him well. He was strict and sharp in business, but completely careless when it came to his own health.
"Yeah, yeah," he laughed. "Your mother won't let me miss even one dose. You know how she is."
"That's good to hear," I said, turning onto my back, my eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"Is everything fine at college?" he asked.
"Yep. Everything's fine," I replied easily.
"Then when are you coming home? I miss you," he said softly.
"We'll come really soon," I promised. "Mom's exhibition is almost over."
Soon, he handed the phone to my mother.
We talked for a while as she sat at her vanity, getting ready for her art exhibition. My mother, Irin, was one of the most celebrated artists—her name often listed among the top ten artists. I was incredibly proud of her.
I cut the call after saying goodnight when I heard the door unlocking, my parents didn't know about us or maybe they know but never admitted.
Without a word, Adriano walked straight into the bathroom. I went to the kitchen, made him a cup of coffee, and placed it on the side table. When he came out after freshening up and saw the cup, he gave a tired, careless smile, like the day had drained him completely. He sat down, took a sip, and hummed softly.
I couldn't stop myself anymore.
"What was that, Adriano?" I asked quietly.
He frowned and looked at me. "What?" he asked already annoyed, before taking another sip.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," I said, my voice tightening. "I'm asking about that girl—Penelope. Why are you behaving like some creep who couldn't even take off of his eyes?"
He slammed the cup down, his jaw clenching, "So now I can't even talk to another girl just because I'm in some kind of stupid relationship with a stupid girl?"
The words hit me like a slap."A stupid girl?" I screamed. "That's what I am to you? A stupid girl?" Tears streamed down my cheeks as my chest tightened painfully.
"I saw the way you looked at her," I accused him, my breath coming fast and uneven. "Like she was… like she was something unreal. Something special."
He stood up sharply, anger flashing in his eyes. "Have you lost your damn mind?" he snapped. "I just introduced myself, and now you're accusing me like I'm cheating on you? Like I'm doing something behind your back? Why the hell are you so insecure?"
Why was I so insecure? I didn't know. All I knew was this—his eyes were supposed to look at me. Admire me. Love me. Not some random girl standing on the side.
"Insecure?" I shot back, my voice shaking. "How can I not be, when I literally saw you drooling over her like some pervert—" I didn't even finish the sentence. The cup slammed against the wall, shattering loudly. I screamed involuntarily and shut my eyes, my whole body flinching.
"Enough," Adriano snapped. When I opened my eyes, his face was dark with rage.
"You're unbelievable," he said coldly. "Do you even hear yourself? You sound desperate. Pathetic." I swallowed hard, my chest burning.
"You think the world revolves around you?" he continued harshly. "That every man should walk around blind just because he's with you?" Tears blurred my vision, but he didn't stop.
"You're not special for being jealous," he scoffed. "You're exhausting. Always watching, always doubting, always acting like I owe you my eyes, my thoughts, my air."
"That's not—" I tried to speak.
"No," he cut me off sharply. "You don't get to twist things. I didn't touch her. I didn't flirt. I didn't betray you. But here you are, accusing me like I committed a crime. Maybe the problem isn't her," he said cruelly. "Maybe it's you. Your insecurity. Your need to control everything."
Each word felt like it was tearing something inside me apart.
"And if this is how you react every time another woman exists near me," he finished coldly, "then I don't know how long I can keep dealing with this." And he left just like that he left.
I stayed frozen for a few seconds, staring at the place. My eyes drifted to the wall, to the dark coffee stains, to the broken pieces of the cup scattered on the floor.My knees gave up, and I sank onto the bed. My hands trembled as I pressed them against my face, but it didn't stop the tears. They came anyway—hot, uncontrollable, painful.
I sobbed into the pillow, muffling the sounds so no one would hear me. My chest hurt like something heavy was sitting on it, crushing every breath. I curled into myself, clutching the fabric. Minutes passed. Maybe hours. I didn't know. My eyes burned, my throat ached, and my head throbbed from crying too much.
I cried until my chest ached, until my throat burned, until I couldn't tell which hurt more— as his last sentence again and again played in my brain like a record - I don't know how long I can keep dealing with this.