Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Four
Isabelle stood in the middle of her father’s office, staring at the room as she remembered the last time she stood in this office. A wry smile came to her face as she remembered her entrance, how she had fallen flat on her face. The shame and the humiliation she had felt as she lay there on the floor. She looked around, realizing that just like the rest of the house, her father’s office didn’t hold any good memories for her.  
She remembered how she had always been punished there, and how she had been reminded of her place over and over. She remembered how she had groveled one last time as she had begged her father not to marry her off to the man with a reputation to rival the devil’s. She remembered how her pleas had fallen on deaf ears.  
Isabelle leisurely strolled around the office, vaguely aware of her father leaning against the wall, watching her in silence. A small smile played on her lips as she realized that time really does change things. Never in a million years would she have imagined that her father would focus his attention on her, never would she have thought that she would be able to walk around her childhood home with her head held high.  
Time really changes things.  
The sound of screaming and angry marching pierced through the fog of tranquility, and Isabelle and her father turned towards the door as the cursing got closer, patiently waiting for the commotion that was undoubtedly coming their way.  
They didn’t have to wait long.  
The door was thrown open, and Isabelle smiled as Fiona barged into the room, her eyes red in anger, her fingers turned to claws, and her daughter clinging onto her with tears in her eyes. Laughter bubbled inside Isabelle, and she held her hand over her mouth as she laughed.  
Fiona’s eyes found her standing there, laughing at her. Isabelle knew her stepmother terribly hated her guts, and she knew that laughing at her temper was only serving to make her angrier. But for the first time since forever, Isabelle realized that she didn’t care about her stepmother. She didn’t care that the other woman looked at her with so much vim and vitriol. She didn’t care that her claws were drawn, and she was the target of her anger. She did not care at all. She no longer lived there, and she was no longer the weak child whom mother and daughter bullied.  
She was powerful, her husband was powerful, her mate was powerful. She was untouchable.  
“You...” Fiona hissed, her eyes trained on Isabelle.  
Isabelle waved at the angry woman, her smile widening. “Hello, Fiona, so nice to see you again. How have you been?” 
Fiona growled, her eyes narrowing to slits. “You treacherous bitch!” she yelled. “How dare you put your filthy hands on my child?!” 
Isabelle dismissed her anger with a shrug of her shoulders. “In my defense, she put her hands on me first,” she said. “Or at least she tried to...So, blame her; she started it.”  
Annabelle, who had stood behind her mother silently, decided to make her presence known. To her, it was yet another opportunity for her to remind Isabelle that she would never be better than her. That no matter how far she went, no matter the rooms she entered, she would forever be the second option, the one who isn’t loved. The sister who is beneath her.  
She needed her to know that she was the better sister. There is no room for her anywhere.  
“Mom...” she whined, holding on to her bruised neck. “My neck hurts so bad...” 
Fiona’s anger boiled over as she looked at the marks on her daughter’s neck. Isabelle’s fingers had left a lasting impression on her daughter, diminishing her beauty. She would not have that.  
Fiona turned to Isabelle, her eyes blazing in fury. If looks could kill, Isabelle would have several daggers lodged all over her body. Such was the intensity of her stepmother's rage.  
“You must think so highly of yourself now, don’t you, Isabelle?” Fiona asked, her voice portraying a calm that belied her raging anger.  
Isabelle cocked her head to the side and stared at her in confusion. “What?” 
Fiona scoffed. “You must think that because you’re now married to that man, you think you’re now someone important,” Fiona said as she slowly closed the gap between the two women. “You must think that because you’re married to one of the most powerful alphas, you’re now superior to us!” 
Isabelle shrugged. “Your words, not mine. Although I should mention that my superiority doesn’t come from him, unfortunately.” 
“You’re nothing, Isabelle. You have always been nothing, that was why your mother left you, you silly brat!” she spat. 
Isabelle’s breath caught in her throat at her words, and she turned away from her as she choked on her tears. She had thought that after all the years of hearing it, she would be immune to it. When she turned back around, she had a small smile playing on her face, hiding the pain that she felt deep in her chest.  
“Annabelle, darling...did you run to mommy to report our little squabble?” she asked in a mocking tone, and turned to her father. “Is this who you want to be the next alpha for your pack? Are you sure that she is up to the task?” 
“How dare you?!” Fiona yelled and lunged at Isabelle. 
Isabelle stood still, unbothered as she watched her stepmother, but before she could fight back, her father stepped between the two women, his hands holding those of his wife in a vice-like grip.  
“What do you think you’re doing?” Fiona hissed as she struggled against her mate’s superior strength.  
“Preventing you from doing something stupid,” Zane answered calmly.  
Fiona’s eyes narrowed. “You will stand there and allow that bitch to insult our daughter?’ she asked, exasperated.  
“I’m his daughter too,” Isabelle said. “A small fact that you seem to be forgetting.” 
“You little!” Fiona yelled and tried to lunge at Isabelle again, only to be held in place by her husband.  
“Stop it,” Zane said firmly. “I do not have the time for this.” 
Fiona turned to him, her eyes searching his. “Are you joking?”  
“No. In fact, leave” 
Fiona continued to look up at his face, hoping for something, anything to tell her that he was joking, that this wasn’t real, that she wasn’t witnessing a reality where Isabelle was being chosen over her. The anger slowly faded away from her and was replaced by hurt. She pulled her hand away from his and, with one last look at Isabelle, turned around and headed for the door, her daughter on her heels.  
“Fiona...” Zane called out to her, his voice filled with apology as she slammed the door behind her, leaving him staring at the door in longing and with a heavy heart.  
Zane slowly turned around and rubbed his forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache.  
“You’re getting old,” Isabelle said as she watched him walk to the liquor cabinet.  
Zane chuckled and shook his head, and poured a shot of malt whiskey, draining it in one go, and poured himself another. “Well...we cannot stay young forever.” 
Isabelle watched as he walked over to the old leather couch that sat against the wall, right under the head mount of a bear. She walked over to the couch that sat directly opposite and sank into it, crossing her legs as she observed her father.  
“Wouldn’t you offer me some?” she asked jokingly.  
Zane chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “I bet you didn’t come all the way here for some old whiskey, did ya?’ 
Isabelle nodded. “You’re right. I came here to ask some very uncomfortable questions.” 
“Like what?” 
“I came for you to tell me all about you...and my mother.” 
Isabelle watched with a poker face as her father began to choke on his drink. She waited patiently for him to catch his breath. One thing was certain: she would not be leaving without answers.  
“Why would you ask me that now? After all these years?”  
Isabelle shrugged. “Better late than never.” 
Zane shook his head vehemently. “No.” 
Isabelle’s brows furrowed. “No? Why not?” 
“That woman did irreparable damage to my life!” he yelled and jumped to his feet. “And even from the grave, she would not stop tormenting me! I never want to hear her name or speak of her ever again!” 
Isabelle jumped to her feet, refusing to let him off the hook. “But I need to know!” 
Zane pointed a finger at her, his eyes burning in fury. “You do not need to know anything about that witch! You are better off without her!” 
“My mother is not a witch!” Isabelle yelled louder as tears gathered in her eyes.  
“Yes, she is! An evil witch who was sent into my life to destroy me!” 
Tears rolled down Isabelle’s cheeks freely, and she made no attempt to stop them. She hated how he spoke about her, how he so freely accused her. A woman he was meant to love forever.  
“Is that how much you hated her?! She was your mate!”  
“I never want to hear that woman’s name ever! Do you understand?!”  
Isabelle noticed the lone tear that rolled down his cheek right before he turned and wiped it away. She scoffed and wiped her cheeks with the back of her palm. She hadn’t known what to expect when she had decided to make the journey to inquire about her mother, but nothing had prepared her for the vile words that her father had thrown at his dead mate. Her mother.  
“Well, that’s a pity,” Isabelle said. “Because she sent me here to speak to you.”