Chapter 179 She Is the One Who Lost It All
Isabella walked toward the bathroom, her steps were light but unsteady. At the doorway, she stumbled, nearly losing her balance.
William's hand shot out instinctively to catch her, but halfway there, he froze. Then he jerked his arm back, pretending he didn't care, though irritation twisted inside him.
He despised Isabella. He even thought that if she fell and got hurt, she'd deserve it.
So why had he reached for her without thinking?
This woman was always trouble.
Cold water poured down from the showerhead. Isabella wrapped her arms tightly around herself, scrubbing her skin hard, as if she could wash away every mark, every trace of humiliation.
But no matter how hard she scrubbed, the stain embedded deep in her bones wouldn't come off.
When she finally stepped out of the bathroom, William was gone.
The empty apartment was quiet at last. Her tightly wound nerves loosened just a fraction. She collapsed onto the bed and stared at the blank ceiling. Exhaustion washed over her in waves, but sleep wouldn't come.
Her mind kept replaying Beatrice's gentle smile and William's cold gaze.
It wasn't until dawn broke that she managed to close her eyes for a brief, shallow rest. Then she got up, made herself a simple breakfast, and hurried to the office.
The moment she saw Thalia, she couldn't help but let a faint flicker of joy show. Her voice was soft. "Ms. Wesley, I can go to the competition. Three days."
Thalia smiled at first, but then her eyes filled with deep sympathy.
She knew exactly what Isabella's so-called "negotiation" had cost her — her dignity trampled, her body and mind tortured. William controlled everything about her: her freedom, her dignity, even her life and death. None of it was hers to decide.
"That's wonderful, Isabella." Thalia reined in her emotions. "Don't worry about work these next few days. Focus on the competition. Rest up. Give it your best."
"Thank you, Thalia."
"Why don't you work in my office? If you get inspired, we can talk through ideas." Thalia didn't want her to be alone. She thoughtfully prepared warm water and breakfast. "You just got out of the hospital. Don't push yourself too hard."
Isabella nodded quietly and sat down at the computer, scrolling through past competition entries, searching for inspiration. She was so absorbed it seemed like only when she immersed herself in design could she temporarily escape the pain and suffocation.
Over the next few days, William showed up more often than usual.
In the past, he'd only come to Sunshine Apartment occasionally. Now he came almost every night.
The same brutal possession. The same cutting words. Sometimes he stayed the night, and the first thing he'd say when he woke up was always mocking and contemptuous, as if it had become habit.
Isabella had gotten used to it.
Used to his coldness. Used to his cruelty. Used to licking her wounds alone in the dark.
The night before the competition, William was especially volatile. His loss of control was almost vengeful — from the living room to the balcony, from the couch to the bathroom, leaving marks scattered across the apartment. Isabella didn't make a sound. She endured it all in silence.
She only wanted morning to come. She only wanted the competition. She only wanted to fulfill Beatrice's dream.
At dawn, William watched her pack a simple bag, his lips curling into a sneer. "You've got it pretty good, don't you? Married the man you wanted. Doing what you love. Came out the big winner."
Isabella's hands stopped moving.
Winner?
She'd lost Beatrice. Lost her family. Lost her dignity. Lost her entire world. She had nothing left.
She was the one who'd lost everything.
When she didn't react, William lost interest and said nothing more.
Soon, her phone rang. It was Thalia. William shot her a cold glance, his displeasure obvious. He'd forcibly changed Isabella's phone number to cut her off from the outside world, but in the end, he hadn't been able to trap her completely.
"Answer it," he said flatly.
Isabella picked up. Thalia's voice was warm and steady. "Isabella, I'm coming to pick you up. We'll go to the airport together and grab some breakfast."
"Okay. I'll be right down."
She hung up and turned to William, her voice quiet. "Ms. Wesley is here. Can I go?"
"Get out."
William spat the words impatiently.
But Isabella felt relieved, as if she'd been released. She grabbed her bag and left quickly. She could feel his foul mood and reminded herself silently: finish the competition as fast as possible, get back as soon as possible, and don't make him angry.
When she stepped outside, Thalia was already waiting by the curb. Seeing the exhaustion in Isabella's eyes and the dark circles beneath them, Thalia couldn't speak for a moment.
"What do you want to eat?"
"Eggs." Isabella answered without thinking. They were Beatrice's favorite.
"Then let's get you some oatmeal too. I know you like that." Thalia took her bag and pulled her into the car, speaking gently the whole way. "Don't be nervous. You're talented. You're going to do great."
Isabella nodded slightly and leaned against the window in silence.
The lively, smiling girl she'd once been had long since been worn down into someone quiet and closed off. Watching her, Thalia's heart ached.
The plane landed in the neighboring city. The sunlight was blinding. This city, famous for jewelry design, gleamed with polish and elegance everywhere you looked. Thalia booked a hotel near the competition venue and went with Isabella to register and pick up the event handbook.
This national competition was held once every five years. The best designers in the country gathered here. The stakes were high.
And this was the place Beatrice had wanted to reach more than anywhere else.
Isabella gripped her contestant badge tightly and said silently in her heart, "Beatrice, I'm here for you."
The preliminary round was held on-site. Judges scored in real time. It was elimination-style.
Isabella sat quietly at her station. Her pen moved steadily, her lines clean and fluid. Her design was simple but full of natural power, the details revealing deep skill. As the judges passed her seat, they stopped and nodded, their eyes full of approval.
The livestream cameras focused on her again and again. The comments were filled with amazement.
Without question, she advanced to the next round.
Thalia clapped excitedly from the audience. Isabella looked up and gave her a small smile. For a moment, she thought she saw Beatrice standing in the distance, clapping for her too.
Then she blinked, and the image was gone.
It had only been a hallucination.
That evening, Thalia dragged her out to unwind, hoping she'd relax a little. The two of them were walking near the hotel stairwell when a figure suddenly rushed out from behind and slammed hard into Isabella.
Thalia reacted instantly, grabbing Isabella's hand and yanking her back. Isabella barely managed to stay on her feet, but she still crashed into a sign on the wall. Her cheek was sliced open, a long cut that welled up with small beads of blood.
"Sorry! I didn't see you!"
The apology sounded fake. Isabella turned around and immediately recognized the woman — Delta, a former coworker who'd always targeted her, always made things difficult.
Thalia's anger flared. "You did that on purpose! The stairwell is wide open. You went straight for her. You're just scared she'll beat you!"
Delta put on an innocent face and raised her voice, drawing a crowd. "I was in a hurry! I already apologized. What more do you want? You want me to get on my knees?"
She'd calculated that right before the competition, Isabella wouldn't dare cause a scene. She was afraid of damaging her reputation or losing votes. That's why Delta was so bold.
Thalia was shaking with rage. But Isabella gently tugged on her sleeve and said quietly, "Thalia, let it go. Let's just take care of the cut first."