Back in their room, Claire collapsed onto the bed, her face buried in her hands. Sobs racked through her body, shaking her to the core. She whispered through her tears, more to herself than anyone else:
"Why is loving her so hard for you… why?"
Her mind drifted back to the little signs she had noticed years ago.
When Isabella turned three, Claire had begun to see the difference. Small things at first—how her daughter would hesitate when offered a dress, how her eyes lingered on her cousin's toy trucks instead of the dolls gifted to her.
She knew how much Adrian adored the idea of a "princess daughter." She also knew he noticed none of these moments… or maybe he chose not to.
By the time Isabella was eight, it had only become harder to ignore.
One Saturday, Claire decided to take her to the city's most exclusive mall for new clothes.
The children's boutique sparkled with luxury—gleaming white floors, crystal lights overhead, and rows of pastel dresses that looked more like art than clothing.
Claire lifted a frilly yellow dress from the rack, her voice gentle but hopeful.
"What do you think, sweetheart? This would make you look like the perfect little princess."
Isabella shook her head. "I don't like it."
Claire tried another ,soft pink with glitter. "This one then. Daddy would love to see you in it."
"No." Isabella's voice was firm. "I want boy clothes."
Claire's stomach tightened. "Boy clothes?"
"A suit. Like a prince."
Claire froze, the image of Adrian's delighted face at the baby shower flashing in her mind. She tried to reason gently. "We can get both, you know. A princess dress and maybe something else."
Isabella crossed her arms. "I want the prince suit."
Claire sighed quietly and took her hand, leading her to the boys' section.
The change was immediate. Isabella's eyes lit up. She rushed to a navy-blue mini suit, running her fingers over the crisp fabric. "This one! And that tie!"
Claire smiled faintly, but inside, her thoughts were racing. This wasn't the first time, and she couldn't keep ignoring it. She would have to find a way to tell Adrian , and she had no idea how he'd take it.
By the time they left the mall, Claire had a large shopping bag in each hand ,the crisp navy-blue prince suit Isabella had chosen and, tucked beneath tissue paper, a pastel pink princess gown with delicate lace and tiny pearls sewn into the bodice.
She'd bought the gown for one reason: Adrian.
That evening was the annual Hart Foundation Daddy-Daughter Night, a formal dinner and dance hosted at the family's country club. Adrian had been talking about it for weeks, telling anyone who'd listen how beautiful his little girl would look in her gown.
When they arrived home, Claire led Isabella upstairs to her princess-themed bedroom. Sunlight poured in through the tall windows, catching on the crystal chandelier and the shelves lined with plush toys. The pale pink gown was already laid out on the bed, its skirt fanning like a soft cloud.
"Sweetheart," Claire said, her voice gentle but urgent, "why don't you try on this dress for tonight?"
Isabella ignored it, slipping into the little prince suit instead. She turned in front of her floor-length mirror, admiring the fit of the blazer and the way the tie sat perfectly under her chin.
Claire felt a cold flutter of panic in her chest. "Bella… Daddy's been looking forward to this night for so long. He's going to want to see you in the dress we picked."
"I like this one," Isabella replied simply, still turning in the mirror.
Claire checked the time. Adrian would be home in less than thirty minutes. She could already imagine the look on his face, confusion first, then disappointment, maybe worse.
"Please, just for tonight," Claire tried again. "You can wear the suit tomorrow. But tonight… Can you do this for me? For Daddy?"
Isabella's small face scrunched into a stubborn frown, but Claire knelt in front of her, holding her hands. "I promise, I'm not taking your suit away. I just… I need you to trust me this time."
After a long silence, Isabella sighed, letting Claire guide her toward the bathroom. Claire watched her bathed quickly, her mind racing the whole time.
Once dry, she slipped her into the princess gown, fastening the tiny pearl buttons along the back. She brushed her hair into soft curls and placed a delicate tiara on top. Isabella stared at her reflection in the mirror, still expressionless, while Claire quietly gathered the boy's clothes and tucked them into the back of the wardrobe, hidden behind winter coats.
The sound of the front door unlocking made her heart skip.
Adrian's voice called up the stairs, warm and full of anticipation. "Where's my little princess?"
When he stepped into the room, he was holding a small bouquet of white roses. His smile widened instantly when he saw her in the gown.
"You look… beautiful," he said softly, crouching to hand her the flowers.
Claire's chest tightened. She prayed, silently, desperately, that Isabella would smile, take the flowers, and play the part just for tonight.
Isabella took the bouquet, her eyes darting once toward her hidden prince suit… but she said nothing.
Claire exhaled, the knot in her chest loosening only slightly. Tonight was saved, but she knew this was only the beginning.
---
Back in the present, neither Claire nor Adrain noticed that Joyce, standing just outside in the hallway, had heard every word. She had been passing when voices rose, curiosity pulling her closer until she pressed her ear to the door. At first, she thought it was just another argument about work—but this… this was something else entirely.
Her eyes widened, her heart racing. Bella? A double life? Competitions? She couldn't believe what she was hearing.
When Adrian stormed out, Joyce quickly darted away, pressing her back against the wall as his figure thundered past. The moment he disappeared into his office, Joyce's instincts kicked in. She ran, her footsteps quick and light, straight to Ava's room.
Her heart pounded as she knocked once before pushing the door open, breathless. She had been eavesdropping, yes, but now she couldn't hold it in. She needed to see Ava. She needed to understand if it was all true.
Ava sat curled up on her bed, knees pulled close to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them. Her room was silent except for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. She had promised Isabella that no matter what happened, she would not leave her room, and she was determined to keep that promise.
When the door creaked open, her heart leapt with hope. Bella! she thought, jumping up eagerly. But her smile fell as she saw her mother standing in the doorway.
Joyce stepped inside, closing the door gently behind her. She studied Ava with concern, noticing the way her daughter's hands trembled slightly.
"What's going on, Ava? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Ava swallowed hard, trying to keep her composure, but her voice betrayed her fear.
"A lot, Mum… too much. And I'm really scared for Isabella."
Joyce walked closer, sitting beside her on the bed. She reached for Ava's hand, rubbing it gently.
"Scared? Why, sweetheart? Tell me what you know."
Ava's eyes watered as she turned to her mother.
"Bella's dad doesn't understand her… he never has. Isabella is… different. She isn't who he thinks she is. And tonight… it's like everything is crashing down on her."
Joyce sighed softly, brushing a strand of Ava's hair from her face.
"I know her father can be… difficult. But Bella is strong, stronger than even she realizes. You mustn't lose hope."
Ava shook her head.
"It's not just about being strong, Mum. It's about being seen. Her dad only sees the daughter he wants—not the one he has. Bella's been fighting so hard, but I can feel it… she's breaking inside. I'm scared she won't come back to me the same after tonight."
Joyce tightened her hold on Ava's hand.
"Then we stand by her. You, me, we protect her in every way we can.
Tears slipped down Ava's cheeks as she nodded.
Joyce pulled her into a hug, holding her daughter tightly as though to shield her from everything happening beyond that room.
Meanwhile, in Isabella's room, Ruth carefully lifted the luggage Adrian had left behind. The heavy silence was broken only by the echo of muffled screams they had heard earlier, despite the house being soundproof. Isabella sat on the edge of her bed, her hands clasped tightly together, eyes fixed on Ruth.
Ruth: "Do you want me to take the luggage away?"
Isabella shook her head slowly, her lips curving into a sad smile.
Isabella: "No… I'm sure that belongs to me. More gifts from his dreams. You can open it."
Ruth knelt down and unzipped the luggage. Inside lay a neatly arranged collection of expensive treasures—everything a father might imagine a 19-year-old princess would want.
A sparkling tiara nestled in a velvet box.
Elegant designer gowns in soft pastel colors.
Shoes with glittering stones.
A diamond-studded bracelet and a delicate necklace.
Perfume bottles lined up like little jewels.
A brand-new phone and the latest gadgets.
A diary bound in leather with Isabella's initials engraved.
Ruth glanced up at her, her expression unreadable.
Isabella smiled faintly, though her eyes glistened with pain.
"Every time he brought gifts like these, I smiled for his sake. But most of the time, I gave them to Ava. She loved them more than I ever could. The rest… I just kept somewhere, untouched. Because deep down, none of this was really me."
Her voice broke at the last words, but she quickly wiped her tears before they could fall.
"I love him so much, Ruth. That's the hardest part. I never wanted to disappoint him… but being myself already does."