BELLA'S MANSION
The servants rushed to the door as Becca dragged Isabella inside. "Warm water. Towels," Becca ordered.
They carried the supplies upstairs, and Becca guided Isabella to her bed. She wiped her face gently, cleaned her arms, took off her shoes, and tucked her beneath the sheets. Isabella mumbled incoherently, her lips trembling with words Becca couldn't catch.
Becca's gaze wandered—to that small door across the room. The same door that had been gnawing at her curiosity for weeks.
She hesitated. Then stood.
But as if Bella had known she would try, the door was locked.
"Damn it," Becca whispered, turning back.
She sat beside the bed, eyes softening at the sight of her best friend curled up like a wounded child.
Suddenly Isabella stirred. Her voice cracked, thick with pain.
"She left me… She's with another woman."
Becca blinked. "What the hell are you talking about? Who left you?"
"She left me," Bella sobbed again, clutching at the blanket. "Why is she still wearing the ring I gave her… if she has a new girlfriend?"
Becca froze. Ring? Girlfriend?
"Girl," she muttered, brushing hair from Bella's damp forehead. "When did you have a girlfriend? Sober up faster—you've got a lot of questions to answer."
Her eyes flicked again to the locked door, her suspicion burning hotter.
And in the silence of that room, both women carried secrets too heavy for the night.
A sharp knock rattled the door.
Becca turned, her hand still holding Bella's shoulder as she tried to rouse her from the bed. The tension in the room was already heavy—Bella drunk, half-muttering, refusing to wake properly—and now the knock made Becca almost scream.
She glanced at Bella, then at the door. She didn't want Ruth seeing her like that.
Gathering her breath, she crossed the room and pulled it open. A servant stood stiffly, lowering his voice.
"Miss Becca… Miss Bella's parents are here. They're waiting downstairs."
Becca's blood ran cold. "What?"
The servant bowed her head quickly. "Her father has asked that she come down immediately."
"Where is Ruth?" Becca asked.
"She's with them"
"Could you kindly call her upstairs please"
Becca shut the door with trembling hands, leaning against it for a second before spinning back to the bed. Panic surged through her. Bella's parents. Here. Tonight of all nights.
She rushed to the bed and shook Bella again. "Bella! Wake up—please, you have to get up. Your parents are here!"
Bella groaned, rolling onto her side with a lazy laugh. "Mmm… no… I don't want to see them."
"Bella, this isn't the time!" Becca's voice cracked. She dragged her up, half-carrying her toward the bathroom. "Come on—wash your face. You can't let them see you like this."
But Bella resisted, stumbling against the doorframe, her head lolling. "Why should I? Let them see me. Let them see what they made me."
"Don't talk like that," Becca whispered urgently, splashing water into her hands and patting Bella's cheeks. "Please. Just hold yourself together for a few minutes."
Bella's eyes fluttered open—unfocused but burning with something wild and defiant. "No," she slurred softly, her voice wobbling yet filled with an edge of fury. "I'm tired of pretending for them. Tonight… I'm fighting."
Becca's heart clenched. She'd seen this look before—the one that came right before Bella broke down, or broke everything around her.
"Bella, please," Becca murmured, reaching for her. "This isn't the time. You can't face them like this."
A sudden knock thundered through the room, sharp and impatient. Becca jumped.
It was Ruth.
Before Becca could answer, the door burst open. Ruth stepped inside, her face pale and tight with alarm. Her eyes darted from Becca to the mess of spilled water. Then they landed on Isabella—disheveled, her PJ half-slipped, eyes glassy but still carrying that dangerous smile.
"Oh dear heavens…" Ruth whispered, pressing a hand to her chest. "Becca, what have you done?"
"I—I didn't—" Becca stammered. "She called me, Ruth. I just brought her home. I swear, I had no idea"
Ruth's sharp eyes softened only slightly, though her voice trembled with frustration. "Her parents are here, they have seen everything she's been trying to hide for years but they can't see her like this too. That will make me more irresponsible"
"I understand —" Becca's voice cracked. "What do we do now."
Ruth sighed, the lines around her mouth deepening with worry. "There's no time to argue. Her parent's are already waiting downstairs. If her father sees her like this…"
Both women froze, their eyes meeting—mutual panic sparking between them.
Bella swayed on her feet, mumbling, "Let him see. Maybe then he'll understand I'm not his puppet." She laughed softly, but it came out broken, echoing off the walls like a cry.
Ruth moved quickly. "No, no, no. We are not doing this tonight."
She grabbed a bowl she had asked one servant to bring, filled it with cold water, and without hesitation—splashed it over Isabella's face.
Bella gasped, jerking back. "What the—!"
"Good," Ruth muttered, clutching her chest in relief. "She's alive."
Becca bit her lip to keep from laughing nervously. "That's one way to do it."
Ruth shot her a glare. "Hush, girl. Get me a towel."
Becca rushed to hand her one, dabbing gently at Bella's dripping face. "Hey, hey, look at me," she said softly. "Can you hear me, Bella?"
Bella blinked, breath hitching, water dripping from her lashes. "I can hear you," she muttered, her voice clearer now—but her expression still wild. "And I still mean it, Becca. I'm done hiding."
Ruth sighed deeply, crouching before her. "My child… you don't understand. This isn't a fight you can win tonight. Please, for your own good—just breathe."
Bella's lip quivered, her defiance flickering. "They took everything from me, Ruth. My freedom. My voice. Even her."
Becca's hand froze midair, and Ruth's eyes softened instantly. She reached out, brushing the wet hair from Bella's cheek. "Oh, sweetheart," she whispered. "You'll destroy yourself before you ever get the chance to make them listen."
Bella looked between them both, breathing unevenly. "They have never listened, Maybe destruction is what I need."
"Or maybe," Becca said gently, squeezing her hand, "it's what they want. Don't give them that satisfaction, Bella."
The words hung heavy in the air. For a heartbeat, everything went quiet except the faint hum of voices downstairs
Finally, Ruth straightened up, glancing toward the door. "We'll get her dressed, fix her face, and pretend nothing happened. For tonight."
Becca nodded, already reaching for the towel again. "Okay."
But as they worked—rushing, whispering, steadying her—Bella's reflection caught in the mirror. The wet strands clung to her skin, and her eyes—oh, her eyes—still burned with unspoken pain.
She whispered to herself, too softly for them to hear, "Tonight, they'll see me. All of me."
---
THE LIVINGROOM
The atmosphere was suffocating.
Bella's father stood tall in the center of the room, his arms folded, eyes burning with disappointment. Her mother was beside him, her face pale with worry, whispering soft words under her breath as if already begging for peace before war broke out.
The moment Bella entered, her father's gaze cut through her like a