Isabella’s instincts kicked in immediately. Her heart raced as she shrank back, feeling the pressure of Jessica’s presence so close to her. With her small hands, she pushed Jessica away, forcefully but not aggressively, her whole body tense with alertness.
"No!" Isabella’s voice trembled, but her eyes stayed firm, wide with distrust and fear. She recoiled from Jessica, her body pressing against the corner of the couch as if trying to create as much distance as possible. Jessica’s tears meant nothing to her. They didn’t feel real. None of this did.
"Oh, baby," Jessica cried, her voice heavy with false emotion. "Your father must’ve filled your ears with lies, telling you how bad I am, how I abandoned you. But no, no... It was your father and his mistress who stole you from me!" Tears streamed down her face, but Isabella only felt unease. Something was wrong—deeply wrong.
Isabella’s expression turned weird. She glanced around, taking in her surroundings. The small living room was outdated and neglected, as if it hadn’t been used in years. She was sitting on a soft gray couch, much softer than her old bed back at home. And then she noticed the men. There were bodyguards, heavily armed, their cold eyes scanning the room. Her heart sank. She was trapped.
"Don’t lie!" Isabella’s voice trembled, hoarse but determined. "My father never even mentioned my mother. You’re not her."
Jessica’s face stiffened. Never mentioned her? That poor fool, she thought darkly. Her mask of sadness wavered, and for a moment, something more sinister surfaced.
In a flash, anger flared in Jessica’s eyes. She grabbed Isabella’s chin, her grip painfully tight as she forced Isabella to meet her gaze. Isabella’s heart pounded, but she didn’t back down. She looked Jessica dead in the eyes, refusing to show any fear.
"Listen, baby," Jessica hissed, her voice dripping with venom. "I am your mother, Jessica. And if I didn’t have some use for you, I wouldn’t have bothered bringing trash like you here." Her grip tightened. "My precious Stella ran off with some useless gigolo, and now we’re bound by contract with Mr. Moretti. We can’t afford to risk fooling him... so you’d better behave. Once I take you into my house, you’ll be marrying him, no questions asked. And if you dare to utter a single word..." She smirked cruelly. "Well, I hear your uncle is quite the good man. Perhaps I’ll give him a little money to settle the score with you..."
"You’re disgusting!" Isabella shouted, but her voice faltered as fear clawed at her chest. Her heart raced, terror seeping through her every fiber.
"Aww... you don’t want that to happen, right?" Jessica’s voice was sickeningly sweet as she tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with malice. She casually signaled to one of the men standing nearby. He approached with a shopping bag, handing it to her. Jessica took it, then tossed it carelessly at Isabella’s feet.
"Here," she said coldly, her voice no longer pretending to be gentle. "Wear this. Look presentable." Her lips curled into a dangerous smile as she added, "And remember, don’t let my husband know about our little secret. You better behave, sweetie, and don’t even think about trying to escape..."
Isabella’s chest tightened as Jessica leaned in closer, her voice now a threatening whisper. "Because my men are everywhere."
"Go in that room and change," Jessica ordered, her voice sharp and commanding. She stood up and took a step back, maintaining a safe distance from Isabella. As she turned to one of the men, he handed her a some tissues. She wiped her hands and face with a look of disgust, as if touching Isabella had tainted her.
Isabella stood frozen, her mind racing. The situation was spiraling out of control, and she felt helpless. All she wanted was her computer or laptop to figure out how to deal with this nightmare. But Jessica’s voice cut through her thoughts.
"GO!" Jessica shouted, her anger evident. Isabella flinched at the harsh command. Instinctively, she grabbed the dress from the bag and hurried toward the door of the room Jessica had pointed out.
As she walked, she could feel the eyes of the four bodyguards watching her every move. They followed her closely, stopping only when she reached the door. With a quick glance back, she saw their stern faces before she shut the door behind her, the click of the lock echoing in the small, dimly lit space.
Inside the room, Isabella leaned against the door, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The reality of her situation hit her like a cold wave. She needed to change, but all she could think about was finding a way to escape or contact someone who could help her.
Isabella’s eyes dimmed as she stood in the small room, feeling utterly alone. The thought of asking for help from the police crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed it. Without a cell phone or any way to contact them, she was trapped.
Desperate, she began searching the room, hoping to find a phone or anything that might help her. The room was small and sparsely furnished, with a bed in the middle, a cabinet beside it, and a bathroom in the corner, no windows. She quickly scanned the area but found nothing useful.
"Are you done?" Jessica’s sharp voice cut through her thoughts, making Isabella’s brown eyes flash with fear. She walked back to the door, her hands trembling as she dropped the dress on the floor.
"Not yet," she called back, trying to keep her voice steady. She hurried into the bathroom, her heart pounding.
Inside, she quickly turned on the shower, but winced as the cold water touched her wounds. Her back was marked with fresh whip marks from her uncle, and her legs bore the scars of burns. Despite the stinging pain, she focused on getting clean. She had no towel, so she used her discarded clothes to dry herself off, wiping away as much water as she could.
Finally, she turned her attention to the dress Jessica had given her. It was a simple white dress that barely reached her knees. She slipped it on, feeling the fabric cling to her damp skin. It was a poor fit and did little to hide her injuries, but she had no choice.