Isla's POV
I didn't sleep at Alessa's apartment. How could I? Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Marcus kissing Victoria on that stage.
At 8:45 AM, I stood outside my stepfather's office building. The same building where I'd worked for three years. The same place that fired me yesterday via email.
My phone buzzed. Alessa: You don't have to do this alone. I can come with you.
Me: I need to face them myself.
Alessa: Kick their asses. Metaphorically. Don't actually commit violence.
I almost smiled. Almost.
The security guard at the front desk looked uncomfortable when he saw me. "Miss Monroe. I... Mr. Monroe is expecting you."
"I know." I walked past him to the elevators, head high.
Fake it until you make it.
The elevator ride to the top floor felt like riding to my own execution. My reflection in the polished doors showed a girl in yesterday's dress, smudged makeup, no sleep. I looked exactly like what I was—broken.
The doors opened. My stepfather's assistant, Margaret, wouldn't meet my eyes.
"They're waiting in the conference room," she whispered. "Isla, I'm so sorry about everything."
"Not your fault." I walked past her.
The conference room had floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan. On a normal day, the view was beautiful. Today, it just reminded me how far I could fall.
Leonard sat at the head of the table in his expensive suit, looking like a king on his throne. Patricia perched beside him, perfectly put together as always. Victoria leaned against the window, examining her nails like this meeting bored her.
My family. The people who were supposed to love me.
"Sit down, Isla," Leonard said.
I remained standing. "What do you want?"
"To discuss your situation." He folded his hands on the table. "You've embarrassed this family. Your little scene at the engagement party made us all look bad."
"My scene?" My voice cracked. "Marcus dumped me in front of three hundred people! For my own stepsister! How is that my fault?"
"You should have handled it with more grace," Patricia said, sipping her coffee. "Running out crying like a child. Really, Isla. We raised you better than that."
"You didn't raise me. My mother raised me. You just tolerated me after she died."
Patricia's smile turned cold. "Your mother was weak too. That's why she died so young. Weak heart, weak spirit. You're just like her."
The words hit like a slap. My mother died of a heart attack when I was fifteen. Sudden. Unexpected. Devastating.
"Don't talk about my mother," I said quietly.
"We'll talk about whatever we want," Leonard snapped. "You're here because we're giving you a chance to salvage what's left of your reputation. And ours."
"How generous."
"Don't be smart, Isla. It doesn't suit you." He slid a paper across the table. "Your trust fund. The one your mother left you. I'm freezing it."
My stomach dropped. "You can't do that."
"I can. I'm the executor of her will. The money stays in trust until I decide you're responsible enough to access it." His smile was cruel. "And right now, you're clearly not responsible. Running away from your engagement, causing scandals. No, the money stays locked."
"That's my money! My mother left it for me!"
"Your mother left it to ME to manage for you. Read the will if you don't believe me." He leaned back. "Face it, Isla. You have nothing. No job, no home, no money. You're completely dependent on our mercy."
"Marcus's penthouse—"
"Is in Marcus's name," Victoria chimed in, still not looking at me. "He texted me this morning. You have until tonight to get your stuff out. He's changing the locks."
"You planned this." I looked between the three of them. "All of it. The affair, the public humiliation, taking everything from me. You planned it."
"Of course we did," Victoria said, finally turning to face me. "Did you really think Marcus loved you? Please. I seduced him six months ago, and he couldn't wait to dump you. You're boring, Isla. Plain. Forgettable. Nobody wants you."
"Why?" My voice broke. "What did I ever do to you?"
"You existed," Patricia said simply. "Your mother trapped Leonard with a pregnancy and a quick marriage. You were always a reminder of his mistake. We've been waiting for the right moment to get rid of you."
Leonard nodded. "Emma—your mother—she had connections we needed. Old money families, society friends. That's the only reason I married her. Once she died, you became... unnecessary."
The room spun. "You used my mother."
"We used her money and connections. And when those ran out, we used yours." He tapped the frozen trust fund papers. "This money has been very helpful over the years. Investments, business deals, Victoria's lifestyle. All funded by your dear mother's inheritance."
"That's theft!"
"That's management. Perfectly legal." Leonard stood. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to disappear quietly. Leave New York. Stop embarrassing this family. If you do, maybe—maybe—in a few years, I'll unfreeze some of your trust fund. If you behave."
"And if I don't?"
"Then you get nothing. Forever." He smiled. "Your choice, Isla. Take the deal or stay broke and homeless."
Victoria laughed. "She'll take it. She always does what she's told. That's why she's so pathetic."
Something inside me snapped.
All my life, I'd been quiet. Grateful. Accommodating. I made myself small so they'd love me. Tried so hard to earn their approval.
But they never loved me. They never would.
"No," I said.
Leonard frowned. "No?"
"No, I won't disappear. No, I won't let you keep my money. No, I won't let you destroy me." My voice got stronger with each word. "You made a mistake. You pushed me too far."
"And what are you going to do about it?" Patricia laughed. "You have nothing, Isla. No power, no resources, no allies. You're just a sad little girl who got dumped."
"Not for long."
"Is that a threat?" Leonard's eyes narrowed. "Because threats require follow-through. And you've never followed through on anything in your life."
"Then I guess you'll be surprised." I turned toward the door.
"Isla, if you walk out of here, you're done," Leonard called after me. "No family, no money, no second chances. You'll be alone."
I stopped at the door. Looked back at the three of them.
"I've always been alone. I just didn't realize it until now." I met each of their eyes. "You're right about one thing. I am just like my mother. And you know what? She was strong. She survived you for fifteen years. That takes strength you'll never understand."
"Your mother was a weak fool who died young," Patricia sneered.
"My mother died suspiciously young." The words came out before I could stop them. "Healthy forty-year-old woman, sudden heart attack. No warning. No family history of heart problems."
Leonard's face went pale. Just for a second.
But I saw it.
"Are you suggesting something?" he asked carefully.
"I'm not suggesting anything. Yet." I opened the door. "But I'm going to find out the truth. About her death. About my trust fund. About all of it."
"You can't prove anything."
"Watch me."
I walked out, leaving them speechless behind me.
In the elevator, my hands shook so badly I could barely press the button. My heart pounded. My vision blurred with tears I refused to let fall.
Not yet. Not where they could see.
I made it to the street before I broke down. Leaned against a building and cried—angry, frustrated tears.
I had nothing. They were right about that. No money, no home, no plan.
My phone rang. Alessa.
"How bad?" she asked.
"They stole everything. My trust fund, my mother's money, all of it. And I think—" I took a shaky breath. "Alessa, I think they might have killed my mother."
Silence. Then: "Come home. Right now. We're figuring this out."
"I can't fight them. They have lawyers, money, power—"
"Then we find someone with more power." Alessa's voice was fierce. "Get back here. We're going to war."
I hung up and started walking. Somewhere behind me was my old life—the penthouse, the job, the family that never loved me.
Somewhere ahead was... nothing. A friend's couch. No prospects. No future.
But also freedom. For the first time in my life, I didn't have to pretend anymore.
I didn't have to be grateful for scraps.
I could be angry. And anger, I was learning, was so much more powerful than fear.
My phone buzzed with a final text from Leonard: Last chance. Apologize and we'll discuss terms.
I blocked his number.
No more chances. No more apologies. No more being small.
They wanted to destroy me?
I'd burn their whole world down first.
I just needed to figure out how.