“Papa, don’t be angry,” Elena’s voice floated across the dining hall, soft as honey. “Isabella didn’t mean it. She just woke up on the wrong side of the bed, that’s all.”

Her smile was angelic, her tone dripping with sympathy. But I’d known her long enough to hear the venom beneath it.

When she first returned to the family—our long-lost, tragic dove—I pitied her. I was stupid enough to hand her my favorite teddy bear, thinking it might comfort her. I didn’t know then that this fragile little bird would one day sink her claws into everything I loved.

It began with small things.

She sent anonymous threatening messages to my teachers, making it seem like I had cheated.

She hid my carefully prepared audition tape and claimed I’d simply misplaced it.

She spread rumors online that I had stolen a friend’s scholarship, turning everyone against me.

Once, she even faked a sprained ankle and insisted I had pushed her during gym class.And every time—every single time—my parents believed her.

My protests became “excuses.” My anger, “jealousy.” My entire childhood was slowly rewritten as if I were the villain in her perfect tragedy.

And now, she was at it again, painting herself as the saint.

Papa’s fist slammed onto the table. His voice cracked like a whip.

“You ruin breakfast with your temper, Isabella! Why can’t you be more like your sister? Gentle. Obedient.”

The words sliced deeper than I expected, though I should have been used to it by now.

Elena leaned closer to Mama, eyes glittering with satisfaction. From behind their wall of love and concern, she looked back at me with a flicker of triumph.

I almost laughed. Once, I would have cried, begging them to listen. But not anymore.

“You want to see temper?” My lips curved, sharp as broken glass. “This is temper.”

I seized the silk-draped tablecloth and yanked.

Crystal shattered. Plates crashed. Scarlet wine bled across the marble floor.

The room froze.

Papa’s roar shook the chandeliers. “Get out, Isabella! You’re nothing but a disgrace—”

I laughed in his face, high heels snapping like gunshots against the marble as I walked away.

Let them choke on their perfect picture of family. I was done.

At least, I thought I was.

I hadn’t made it past the courtyard when a hand clamped over my mouth. A sharp sting flooded my nose, my body buckling as the world tilted black.

When I came to, my bones ached with cold. I was sprawled on the frozen concrete floor of the estate’s industrial walk-in freezer.

From above came the muffled voice of one of Adrian’s men.

“Orders from Mr. Moretti. Teach her a lesson. Make sure she remembers not to lay a finger on the elder daughter again.”

The door slammed shut. The lock clicked.

Ice spread through my chest. For Elena’s little “accident”—barely a mark on her wrist—Adrian had sentenced me to this?

I hammered the door with my fists. “Let me out!” My voice cracked, then broke. Silence answered. Only the endless hum of the freezer.

Darkness. Cold. The kind that seeps into your bones, into your soul.

I curled into the corner, shaking so hard my teeth ached. But inside, I was colder than the air around me.

Before my phone died, one last message slid across the screen. From Elena.

A photo.

Adrian. My Adrian. Carefully wrapping a bandage around her unmarked skin, his face softened into tenderness I’d never seen. His hand lingered, stroking her as if she were glass.

The same man who once slipped his coat over my shoulders when I confessed I hated the cold. I thought that moment was ours. Mine.

But it was nothing. An illusion. His tenderness was never for me.

I laughed, raw and broken, as tears cut down my face, stinging in the cold.

By the time the lock finally clicked and the freezer door swung open, my vision had blurred.

A tall figure filled the doorway, dark and commanding. Adrian.

Before I could move, he lifted me into his arms.

“Put me down!” My voice was hoarse, but I thrashed against him anyway.

His grip only tightened, his breath hot against my temple.

“It’s over,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous. “I’m here now.”

The lie burned colder than the ice.

The moment his words reached me, my chest tightened painfully.

Once, I had been locked in a storage unit by a rival company. Everyone thought I’d been careless, but he had searched the city for me, found me, pulled me into his arms, and whispered words I thought I’d never forget—

“It’s okay. I’m here.”

Back then, I let myself believe he might care for me. That maybe he even loved me.

But now?

Now I knew better.

He didn’t care. He never had.

He punished me without even asking for the truth. He chose her—every damn time.

“Don’t touch me!” I tried to break free, desperate, and when his grip only tightened, I sank my teeth into his hand until he cursed and let go.

His face darkened, but instead of arguing, he simply started the car.

When we reached his penthouse, he didn’t give me a choice. He scooped me up, carried me inside like I weighed nothing, and dropped me on the velvet couch.

I shot to my feet, ready to scream, when he pressed a warm sandwich into my hands.

“Eat,” he ordered flatly. “You’ve got work after this.”

I shoved it away. “I don’t need your pity. Stay the hell away from me.”

His lips curled into something between a smirk and a threat as he leaned close, one hand braced beside my head. “Stay away? Tell me, sweetheart—could you really?”

The words sliced through me, because he was right. Once, I couldn’t. Once, I was his no matter how much it burned.

But now? Now it only made me hate him more.

I forced myself to look away, jaw clenched.

For a long moment, he studied my face, then asked quietly, “Why didn’t you defend yourself today? You weren’t the one at fault.”

My breath caught. He’d seen?

But the bitter laugh tore from me before I could stop it.

“What good would it do? No one believes me. They never have. And they never will.”

“I would.”

Two small words. Soft. Steady. Like a promise.

I froze, but then the reality came crashing back, cold and merciless. His version of “believing me” was throwing me into a freezing hell for something I hadn’t done.

His belief was worth nothing.

Then came the blade that twisted deeper:

“But Elena is still your sister. She’s kind. Gentle. Why do you hold such hatred for her?”

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood.

“Stay out of my life.”

Shoving him back, I stormed upstairs and slammed the door.

He didn’t follow. Not that day.

Instead, it was Elena who came slithering into my phone screen with her texts and photos.

He walked her through the bustling art fair, pointing out details I had once described to him first.

Later, they ducked into a quiet café, leaning close over steaming cups, his laughter soft and intimate.

By the time they stepped outside, the autumn breeze had him draping his scarf around her shoulders.

Every gesture, every glance, every small touch—I had imagined them with me, not her.

He had never done any of that for me. Not once.

I curled under the blanket, clutching my phone so hard it hurt. My flight was already booked. Just two more weeks. Two weeks and I’d be free of this nightmare.

The next morning, I left early, nerves raw. Today was everything. My thesis defense. My chance to prove myself.

But the universe wasn’t done with me.

He was waiting by the car.

“Get in.”

I turned away. “I’ll walk.”

His hand closed around my arm, shoving me into the seat with a strength that made my bones ache.

“You want me to drag you in front of everyone and make you late?”

The threat was real, sharp as glass. I sat still, heart hammering.

I couldn’t afford to be late today. Not when I’d poured blood and sleepless nights into this work.

But fate was cruel.

When it was finally my turn, I froze.

Because Elena was standing at the podium before me, smiling sweetly, her slides glowing across the giant screen.

And they weren’t just similar to mine.

They were mine.

My research. My analysis. My words.

Everything I had worked for, stolen and displayed as hers.

“This thesis,” she said brightly, “is the product of years of effort. I am honored to present it—”

“Stop!” My voice cracked through the silence. I shot to my feet, fury shaking every nerve. “That’s my thesis. She plagiarized me!”

Gasps rippled across the hall.

Elena turned, eyes wide with feigned innocence. “Isabella… what are you saying? This is my work. You can’t accuse me without proof.”

“You lying snake!” My chest burned as I spun toward him—toward the only man who knew the truth. He’d seen me draft it. He’d given me notes. He knew.

But his face was blank, voice cool and condemning.

“Isabella, this isn’t the time. Don’t cause a scene.”

My world collapsed with those words.

He silenced me. For her. Again.

Whispers broke out behind me.

“She’s always been arrogant.”

“Typical. Trying to steal credit when she has none.”

“Thank god the elder sister is here to save the family’s name.”

Elena’s gaze locked with mine, a flash of triumph glittering there as she turned back to the committee.

“Shall we continue?”

Something inside me snapped.

I walked forward, calm as ice.

Lifted a glass of water from the desk.

And before anyone could stop me, I slammed it down on her laptop.

Water exploded across the table. Gasps filled the hall.

The crash of the water on Elena’s laptop silenced the entire hall.

She let out a sharp scream and stumbled straight into Adrian’s arms. “Adrian, I—I’m scared…”

He pulled her close instantly, his hand stroking her shoulder, eyes snapping to me like shards of ice.

“Isabella Russo,” he said, voice hard as steel, “I told you to sit down and let her continue. If you keep this up, don’t blame me for what happens next.”

My chest constricted. He never called me by my full name—unless he meant to wound.

But instead of cowering, I laughed, the sound bitter.

“You said this thesis was yours, didn’t you, Elena? Then prove it. If you really wrote it, you should be able to present every detail without your precious laptop.”

Color drained from her face, but she clutched Adrian’s sleeve with trembling fingers. “There’s too much data, I… I can’t remember it all…”

“Then let me help refresh your memory.”

I turned toward the committee, my voice clear and steady.

“First section: a summary of the migration patterns recorded across the North American and Southeast Asian regions…”

Pages rustled. Professors bent over their copies of the thesis.

“Second section: detailed genetic sequencing results. Sample population—1,193. Success rate—92.4 percent. Anomalies catalogued—forty-nine. The full statistical variance ratio is exactly 2.39155622…”

Gasps echoed around the room as I continued, laying out line after line of figures, each one a perfect match.

By the time I finished, the room was silent. Even those who’d sneered at me earlier now looked at me with something like respect.

And Elena? She was pale, trembling, eyes darting wildly as if searching for an escape.

“So,” I said coolly, turning back to her, “now that everyone knows exactly whose research this is, maybe you’d like to explain yourself, thief.”

Her knees nearly buckled. But before she could speak, Adrian was on his feet, slipping an arm around her to hold her steady. His glare cut through me like a blade.

“Isabella, enough. You’ve disrupted this defense long enough. Security—remove her.”

My nails dug into my palms until blood threatened to break skin.

“What? I was defending my work! I’m the one whose thesis was stolen, and you’re throwing me out?”

“Take her out.” His voice cracked like a whip.

“Miss Russo, please don’t make this harder,” the guard muttered, stepping toward me.

“Don’t touch me!” I snapped, wrenching free, tears burning in my eyes as I glared at Adrian. “You bastard. You can’t even tell right from wrong!”

But he didn’t even look at me. His only concern was the trembling woman clinging to him.

And the triumphant spark in Elena’s eyes as I was dragged away pierced me deeper than any blade.

I laughed then. Low. Broken. My vision blurred.

“Fine. I’ll leave myself.”

My ankle twisted as the guard released me, pain lancing through my leg, but I forced my spine straight, chin high, and walked out one step at a time.

Straight into his office.

I yanked the stack of magazines off the shelf, sending them tumbling across the floor with a loud crash. Papers scattered, coffee mugs teetered and clattered to the ground. My hands trembled, chest heaving, as I kicked at the pile, each thud echoing my frustration.

I collapsed into the only untouched armchair, hair disheveled, cheeks burning.

When Adrian finally entered, his expression didn’t change—not a flicker of surprise. Just that faint, almost indulgent shake of the head he reserved for children throwing tantrums. He closed the door behind him with infuriating calm.

“Feel better now, princess?”

I lifted my eyes to his, a cold smile tugging at my lips. “What’s wrong? Not running back to comfort the thief who stole my research?”

“She’s your sister,” he said sharply, jaw tight. “Do you have to be so vicious? Even if she made mistakes, you didn’t need to humiliate her in front of everyone.”

I laughed, bitter and raw. “And you didn’t need to protect her while letting them spit on me.”

“You’re a grown woman, Isabella. Control your temper. Stop acting like a child.”

My stomach turned. God, how had I ever loved this man?

But it didn’t matter anymore. Not for long.

My phone buzzed on the table. A new notification lit up the screen before I could stop it.

[Your flight has been confirmed. Please find attached your ticket and seat number.]

My heart lurched. I reached for it too late.

His eyes narrowed, voice dropping to a lethal chill.

“Flight? What flight? Where the hell are you going?”