THE BROKEN HEIRESS LAST REVENGE

ISABELLA'S POV

Getting ready for a dinner party has never been my thing; I have always preferred being locked up in my room binging on a few of my favourite series or working on something instead. It wasn't that I couldn't go, I just never belonged to the settings, and my stepmother had always made me aware of that.

Every time there was a family function, I would always be reminded not to set my foot there so I do not cause a scene. Not like I have ever caused one.

My father would watch this watch in silence and never make a remark; as long as it wasn't work-related, he didn't seem to care.

My name is Isabella Reed, the first and illegitimate daughter of my father, Tony Reed. I have always been the outcast in my family since I was a child; my stepmother had made sure of that. I stared at the reflection that stared back at me in the mirror; it looked beautiful; I always knew I was beautiful, but never this beautiful. My hair cascaded down in soft waves with a side part instead of the usual messy bun I always had on. I had exchanged my glasses for contacts, and my pastel blue eyes were softly highlighted with molten copper eye shadow.

I looked different, like a sassy and arrogant woman. It looked like a stranger had occupied my body. I wore the only thing that reminded me of my mother. A dainty gold necklace that had always been with me since I was a child.

This party wasn't for people like me but a little hope tugged me to go for it. I needed to see for myself even if I could only do it once in my lifetime. It's not like I have much time left. I glance at My room, a small box With beige walls located at the end of my father's mansion. An unwanted distraction that needed to be kept out of sight, my stepmother had called it. I made my way to the parking lot ready for the party.

I watched Camilla hold her mother's hand tightly, they exchanged a knowing smile. She squealed for the umpteenth time today and it scratched my ear. I hated her and her mother with a passion, but they didn't need to know that yet. I just had to do what they wanted me to do and get them off my back.

I stepped forward to enter the limousine after Camilla when she pushed me hard.

"Do not forget your place; just because Father is letting you come with us this time around doesn't mean you get to ride with us; ride with my assistants. You know that's where you belong." Camilla snapped, slamming the door in my face.

I held back the tears that threatened to fall from my eyes, as I walked slowly to the car. The assistants cast me a pitying look. Everyone always did. The first illegitimate daughter of my father, a taint to his family's glory, an abomination. I smiled at their pitying faces, not wanting to give them the satisfaction they wanted.

The drive was slow and peaceful, and soon enough, we arrived at the function. A Victorian mansion house with a timeless elegance welcomed us; it embodied old money and grandeur. I hastened my footsteps as I made my way inside when my stepmother, Tina, slipped to my back whispering, "Do maintain a low profile today if you don't want me to make your life a living hell."

"Yes ma'am," I replied curtly.

The function is an anniversary of the Whiltmore family empire and also a celebration of the Whiltmore family union with my family. Of course, no one knew about it; only a few people did; the old money has always been marrying one another for business purposes. The announcement to be made has been making Tina And Camilla over the moon.

They feared I would jinx it, but I had other plans.

The hall was buzzed with chatters and chandeliers cast a luxurious warm glow on the room. Waiters in white and black uniforms glided through the guests swiftly. The air carried a sense of superiority and luxury.

I grabbed a champagne flute from a waiter who walked past me and chugged it down, wishing the night would end soon.

My chest tightened, and I clutched my bag closely, avoiding eye contact with anyone. I hated crowded places, but I walked with elegance, each step exposing my perfectly tanned thighs in the black cocktail gown that hugged me like a second skin.

I scanned the room for the very reason I decided to put myself in the spotlight. He was at the far end of the room. He laughed effortlessly and looked genuinely happy. I watched him exchange words with a few investors I did recognize and I admired how he carried himself with elegance and class. His sharp cheekbone and chiselled jawline became prominent each time he smiled.

I did not want to face another group of entitled rich people. Just as I wanted to slip away, Camilla and her friends made their way towards me.

"Enjoying the party, sister?" she asked smiling sweetly

"Yes, I am."

"My friends have been meaning to meet you for the longest time, and this makes it the opportunity to introduce you to them. Don't you think?" she replied.

I ignored her taking a few steps back. I was making my way towards the gallery when she pulled me by arms, spilling my drink all over my body. I tripped on her leg, and the glass fell to the floor, earning a few gasps from the guests.

Her friends stifled their laughter while she smiled and smirked. "Are you okay, sister? Do you want me to help you with that? Why weren't you watching where you were going you have always been so clumsy."

I ignored her and sprinted towards the restroom when I bumped into a something hard; I raised My head to vent my frustration when I recognised the person in front of me.

He smelled like cedarwood and leather, which intoxicated my nostrils. I gave him a once over without saying a word and proceeded to leave. His fingers wrapped around my wrist in a swift action. "Isabelle, listen to me."

"Let go of me", I said, jerking my hands away from him. Once again, he looked oddly familiar. I try to pinpoint where I know him from, but my memories just seem to be filled with blurs and fog. All I knew was that I seem to know him professionally, did we work together before?

In the restroom, while cleaning the stain the drink had left on my green silk dress I could hear whispers not far from me.

"I heard Shaun Whitmore is going to be engaged to Camilla today and he is going to announce it soon."

"Wow, that's exciting, the fact that she would get married before her so-called elder sister. I sometimes wonder if he is truly a member of that family."

The voices' and laughs stopped when they made eye contact with me as I walked out of the restroom.

What do I even think I am doing here, sauntering around like a lost child And making a fool of myself? Nobody cares about me; no one has ever done so, so it won't start now.

I can only look out for myself. I am alone in this world.

"I'm going back home to where I belong, and I would never set foot outside again." I made up my mind as I left the restroom.

Entering the bustling hall again, the constant chatters clouded my mind and made me fuzzy. Grabbing my Chanel bag, I walked discreetly, not wanting to draw attention to myself once again, when an announcement was made by the host.

"We would like to welcome the heir to the Whitmore Empire to give a benediction while he also has a special announcement to make."

The guests jammed their hands together, and the sounds of palms meeting each other filled the hall. I begged my feet to move but it felt like they had a mind of their own. Every atom in me wanted to leave, but here I was, stuck to the ground and glaring at him as he proceeded to talk.

He smiled as the noise went down, the smile that made women swoon for him. He wasn't only the heir, he had the face and body suited for it. He was fitted in his black tuxedo that pronounced his athletic build. I watched his chiselled jaws as his mouth moved. He spoke calmly and his voice felt like he charmed the guest with a lullaby. "I would like to make the public know about the marriage alliance between the Family of Reed and my family the Whitmore family."

Gasps rippled through the guests' mouths as they took turns to mention congratulations to Tina and my father. I should leave now, I am not meant to be here. Still, my feet were glued to the ground as I watched Camilla giggle meekly, making Her way to Shaun Whitmore.

I finally found the strength to move, my legs carrying me towards the exit. "Allow me to introduce you all to my beautiful fiancée, Isabella Reed."

The guest gasped once again. I did a 180-degree turn to process what the hell was going on and locked my eyes with him while he only smiled at me and motioned me to come forward.

ISABELLA 'S POV

2 WEEKS AGO

"How long... how long do I have?" I found myself asking. Never in my life have I ever thought I would ask this question. I have always been healthy and have always done everything I was told to do. What this man was telling me had to be a mistake.

He paused, taking a deep breath. "Unfortunately, ALS is a rapidly progressing disease for many. The average survival time is around 2–5 years, but this can vary significantly. In your specific case, given the severity of your symptoms, I estimate you may have approximately one year."

My emotions clashed, they danced across my mind like a tornado storming through me. How could I have a year left? What did I do wrong ? Who have I offended? I don't deserve this. I have had so many bad luck in my life, but not this. I do not want to die. Not when I haven't found my mother.

"A year? That's all I get?" I yelled, my voice louder than i had expected it to be.

The doctor spoke too quickly. He attempted to calm me down. "I know this is devastating news. There's no cure for ALS, but there are treatments available to help manage symptoms and improve quality of life. We can discuss options like medications to slow the progression, physical and occupational therapy, speech therapy, and support for respiratory issues."

"Of course, there had to be a way - medicine has gone further than that. I could be healed. What about experimental treatments? Clinical trials?" I asked.

"We can explore those options as well. I can refer you to specialists and clinical trials that may be relevant to your specific situation."

The doctor spoke too calmly for my liking. He was too composed of what was going on in my life. How could he not react the way I was reacting? This is my life ending, and he still managed to speak calmly and eloquently. Perhaps this was not his first time delivering news like this one. He would have told a number of people they just had a year to live like it was a normal conversation. He was a doctor after all. That was his job.

My mind spun as heat sat on my neck, my fingers trembled as i steadied myself on the chair for the umpteenth time.

"I... I need to process this. What happens now?"

"We'll schedule a follow-up appointment soon to discuss your treatment options in more detail. I'll also connect you with resources like support groups and social workers who can offer emotional and practical support....." He trailed off and paused expecting a response. I only gave him a blank stare.

"I understand this is overwhelming. Please don't hesitate to reach out to me or my team with any questions or concerns you may have," he continued to say. The words swirled around my head without me bothering to process the remnant of what he had to say. I only know one thing at the moment: I won't be coming to the hospital again. I wouldn't spend the rest of my life being proven and poked by needles.

I smiled tightly. "That's okay." I wouldn't be needing anything thanks for your service.

The doctor gasped, shocked at my response. "Isabella, please think about this. I know it is overwhelming, but considering those who love and care about you, it doesn't have to be this way."

"No one cares about me," I whispered, storming out of the office before he said another word.

The road stretched before me, dark and endless, my diagnosis sat like a loud silence with me in the car. I gripped the steering wheel tightly. I shouldn't be driving like this, not when my mind was this tangled. But the thought of being alone in my room haunted me. I let the tears flow freely as I pulled over to the nearest lot I found.

A year, that's what the doctor had said, or maybe less who knows. The words hammered in my head like a carpenter's nail. I sobbed loudly, reaching for the radio, flicking it, hoping it would distract me and overshadow my loud sobs that people could hear from outside. I heaved. I had no idea what to do with the rest of my life. I might as well just enjoy the peace that comes with it. My past 25 years weren't worth fighting for anyway. Images of Tina and Camilla flashed before my eyes and for a moment I wished I could pay them back for what they did. I didn't know how but I would.

With a frustrated sigh, I let out a breath and pushed the door open, breathing in the cold air. Soft jazz music filled the air and seeped from inside and I welcomed the calmness it gave me.

The bar is dimly lit, dim enough to see people's facial features but also dark enough to not recognize the people there the following day. Just the way I like it, I am not in any mood for random conversations with strangers or anyone who recognizes me.

I ordered a whiskey from the bartender. As I sipped it, I didn't flinch at the burning sensation down my throat; rather, I welcomed it like an unknowing pleasure. My diagnosis swirled around my head like a hummingbird and I heaved a sigh, placing the tumbler on the counter top with a loud thud.

"Rough day?" A deep thick voice a few seats away from me on my right asked.

I couldn't make out his face as he stood up and walked towards me, only that he smelled heavenly, and his voice felt like a balm to my wounded soul. I was getting drunk, but not drunk enough to not be able to start a conversation. "You don't look like the type to drink alone."

"There's always a first time, I am getting married soon," he replied curtly, like that had to be the saddest thing in the world.

"And is that supposed to be a bad thing?" I asked.

"Not when I cannot choose the woman I want to marry," he sighed.

I instantly understood him. A small part of me empathized with him and wanted to share his burden, a life where you had no choice. That is what both of us had in common.

"At least you have a future," I said, laughing.

"You don't?" he asked, laughing even though he didn't completely understand the joke.

"Maybe less than a year," I replied curtly.

"What does that even mean? Are you talking in parables?"

I laughed. "You know you could grow up to love this woman of yours. Marriage doesn't always have to be about love at first sight. You could always learn to love this woman." I chipped.

"I like how innocently you think."

My chest warmed and butterflies tugged at my belly . He reached out my hands, caressing my fingers as we talked. Just like that, I met a stranger who I almost shared half of my life with. I didn't recognize his face, only his voice and his scent, and we clicked like we had met before.

"Do you want to go anywhere?" I asked drunkenly.

"Anywhere you want to go."

He scooped me up in bridal style and made his way towards my car, setting me down in the backseat. As he set me down, light flashed, and I caught a glimpse of his face in the dark. His hazel orbs stared at me as I drew him closer, placing my lips on his. His mouth captured mine nibbling on my lower lips carefully, but I wanted more, so I pulled him closer, allowing my tongue in his. Our tongues danced around each other slowly.

He tasted like sweets and whiskey. He pulled his tongue out and tugged on my lower lip, continuously nibbling it. He proceeded to move towards my neck and placed his mouth on it, making continuous circles on it with his tongue.

His lips traced my neckline down my cleavage with kisses and I heaved heavily. My breath became ragged.

He pulled back, whispering, "Do you want to continue this elsewhere?"

ISABELLA 'S POV

The sunlight was warm when I woke up; it shone softly through the floor-to-ceiling glass wall. The air still smelled intoxicating and musky. Memories of last night washed over me. The way he had touched me in places I had never imagined I could be touched softly with a gene hold like I was fragile.

His mouth had ravaged my body from my neck down to my stomach like one who had been hungry and just been given food; his soft kisses placed on my forehead as we slept through the night had been the most love I had ever received from someone. Last night, he completed me, and I did him like the perfect piece I had been waiting for.

I turned over, expecting to collide with his body, but he was gone, nowhere to be found. No glimpse or reminder of him. No name, no note, no number, just his intoxicating smell.

A lump formed In my throat as my chest thudded, perhaps it was best he left. No need for an awkward morning reaction. I tried to make out his face as I pulled the sheets from my body and another wave of the reminder of his hands caressing my body.

I couldn't make out his face. Every attempt to remember shot a wave of headache through my head. I signed, giving up on trying to remember his face; I might never meet him again, given the circumstances; I just had to let go. I put on the clothes that had been peeled off one by one carefully by him the night before. I shivered at the thought of his hands grazing my shoulders.

Leaving the hotel behind, I arrived at my father's mansion an hour later, exhaustion settling in as I pulled into the parking lot.

I walked the pathway propped with well-defined flowers, the fragrance trailed behind me, lingering in my nostrils. My father's mansion stood tall in the rich neighborhood like everyone's, but the neoclassical style adorned with Corinthian columns and a marble staircase made it stand out.

I thought about my plans for revenge and realized I had none. I had gone to the bar to ruminate over it but ended up being distracted. A year, I thought, and my heart thudded hard against my rib cage.

The morning sun gave the mansion a warm glow and nostalgic effect. The air was thick with silence and an aged, long aristocracy as I made my way to my room at the end of the mansion quietly. My stepmother had requested my father to move my room to the end of the house to avoid crossing paths "an unwanted chaos", as she had called it.

Giggles interrupted the deafening silence as I got closer to my room; a familiar laugh echoed through the walls, and I wondered what mischief Camilla and her mother were up to once again.

We are a year apart and nothing alike. I, the oldest, have always been the good child getting good grades who carved their father's attention, whilst Camilla would always do whatever she wanted and get scot-free with it.

Finally, in my room, I lay on the bed staring blankly at my beige walls, the weight of the day pressing against my shoulders and chest. The thoughts of revenge keep me from drowning in my despair.

I still have to work today. I remembered that I had been my father's assistant ever since graduating from university. I did not know why he made me his assistant, probably a way Tina whispered in his ears to punish me. Camilla does nothing but go on shopping sprees funded by the life my father and I have to live.

Surprisingly, I love being my father's assistant; something about it made me feel closer to him rather than the blank face and void defiance he always puts on at home.

It was an opportunity to learn first-hand what was going on behind the scenes in the company.

On days like this, I dreaded going to work. I lazily pulled myself out of bed and into the bathroom for a quick shower before my father's message popped up on my phone. Soon enough, I was ready to leave.

My father's study held a deafening silence that I always found solace in. I flipped through the stack of files on his table when a name caught my eye.

"Shaun Whitmore."

I froze. The file wasn't about him alone, it was about an arranged marriage. With Camilla. My breath hitched, so this was her latest prize. That explained her laughter this morning.

I could hear my heart beating loudly in my eardrums. I curled my face in disgust. Why must she always have everything?l

This time around, I would snatch it right from her hands. I don't know how, but I definitely will.

I closed the file as the door creaked.

"Isabelle, what are you still doing here?" I shuddered, my father's deep voice bringing me back to reality.

I hesitated for a millisecond. "I was just organizing the files we would need today", I lied smoothly.

He eyed me briefly, as if hesitant to believe me. "The meeting has been canceled; you can go," he dismissed.

My heart leaped for joy as I dragged my feet to the door. I turned on my heels, changing my mind about leaving. I might as well try my luck with him. "Is there anything else?" he asked, noticing my lingering stance.

"Actually, yes."

"Go on."

I stood in front of his mahogany desk, my heart racing as he didn't spare me a glance. His gaze fixated on the file he was holding.

"I Want to marry Shaun Whitmore."

He lifted his gaze, narrowing his eyes at me. "Excuse me?"

"You're planning to marry him to Camilla, but she's not fit for this. You and I both know she lacks the discipline, the intelligence, and the patience to handle a man like Shaun or secure the business alliance you want."

His pen stills, leaning back on his reclining chair. "And you think you can."

"Yes."

"Isabella, I do not have time for that childish behavior; this is strictly business; and why, exactly, do you want this marriage?"

I hesitated; I wanted to tell him the truth; I wanted to let him know I only had a year to live; maybe that brought out the little compassion he had for me. I wanted to tell him I would make him, his wife and daughter pay for what they had made me suffer. Instead, the lie slithered freely in my mouth. "Because I can make this alliance work. "I understand business, I know how to handle power, and I won't let my emotions ruin everything the way Camilla would."

He exhaled slowly. "Convince Shaun's grandfather. If he chooses you over Camilla, the engagement is yours."

My stomach clenched. "And if I fail?"

"Then you'll watch Camilla walk down the aisle with him."