My grip tightens on the scalpel. He still doesn’t understand. With enough force, I stab his thigh.
The sound of his screams pleases me as I twist the blade, just enough to make his whole body convulse. “Names, Benito.”
“I don’t know!” he wails. “I never met them.”
“Please…” he begs.
I pause, watching him tremble like a trapped animal. What’s he begging for? Mercy? A quick death? The irony almost makes me laugh. The moment he betrayed me, he sealed his fate, and he’s going to die a slow, painful death.
But for now, I need answers.
Chapter thirteen
Isabella
I can’t stop thinking about Dominic’s gesture. I’ve lived my whole life being an extra in Elena’s story. And now, suddenly, the one man I should despise does something so considerate, so perfectly me, that I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or freak out.
It makes my heart hurt. Not in the sweet, fluttery way people talk about in movies or novels. No. This is a stabbing ache you get when you realize how pitiful your life actually is, because when did a room full of books become the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me?
Maybe it’s because my mother used to read to me every night, until the car accident that tragically cut her life short. After she died, just two months before my eighth birthday, the books slowly disappeared from our home.
I’d always been the devil’s spawn in Father’s eyes. Born the wrong shade made him hate me even though it was clear I’d inherited my maternal grandmother’s genes. Though he hated both daughters, it was easier for him to despise me more, especially with my sister, who came out perfect. And I always hated myself for not being like her.
When Father remarried, I thought I’d get a second chance. I thought Melanie might love me, or at least try. Unfortunately for me, her hatred for me was just as much as my father’s, if not more.
I sink deeper into the armchair in the corner of the library, clutching a book to my chest while I attempt not to compare my life to a poorly written mash-up combination ofCinderellaandBeauty and the Beast.
Something vibrates against my skin, causing me to jump so hard the book slips from my hands and thuds against the carpet.
My phone screen lights up with a name I never thought I’d see. For a second, I think I’m hallucinating. My stepmother has never called me before. She’s barely even spoken to me, except to remind me how inconvenient my existence is.
I answer before I can talk myself out of it. Just like I did with Dad, I don’t say anything and wait for her to talk.
“Bella…” Her chirpy voice is croaked, unusually dull. If I didn’t live with this woman for so many years, I’d actually believe she was real.
“It’s your mother.”
The words knock the breath out of me. She’s never called herself that. Not once. My throat tightens, my whole body goes stiff.
Mother?
“Bella…” she calls out tentatively, then releases a deep sigh, “please say something.”
My fingers clench instinctively, tears dotting my vision. I want to talk, but I can’t. I’m too dumbfounded to speak. No, I don’t even know what to say.
Is she doing this of her own volition, or was it forced by Father?
“Wh-what do you want me to say, Melanie?” I manage to find my voice, and it comes out weaker than I intend.
Her voice trembles, coming out as barely a whisper, and she sniffles, a stupid sound that makes me cringe. “I know this is probably coming off as sudden to you, but it’s been on my heart for quite a while now.”
I bite my lips, tears pouring even more from my eyes. Quite a while? Since when? Since my fancy sister disappeared?
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers after a moment of silence, and for a second, I think it’s a trick of bad reception. “I’m so sorry for everything. For how I treated you. I was wrong. You didn’t deserve it. I should’ve…” She falters, then swallows hard. “Ishould’ve protected you. I didn’t, and I regret it every single day.”
“Regret…” That’s all I manage to choke out. There was absolutely no fucking reason to join Father in treating me the way they did. Unlike my father, my beauty…or lack of it… wasn’t necessarily pivotal to her dealings. She didn’t need me for an alliance; she didn’t need me to represent her…nothing.
All she had to do was at least be a safe haven. I really needed that when Father married her. But she added to my struggles. They constantly reminded me that I’d never be Elena, and people like me were born to serve.
