THE OTHER DAUGHTER

Rain slammed hard against the cracked apartment window while Isabella folded the last of her clothes into an old black suitcase. Every sound in the apartment felt louder tonight the rain, the weak buzzing light flickering above her head, even the soft drag of fabric between her fingers. Tomorrow she would leave this place behind, yet instead of excitement, a strange pressure sat heavily in her chest. She had spent years dreaming about escaping this life, but now that it was finally happening, fear wrapped itself tightly around her ribs.

What if everyone at Prestige University saw right through her? What if they realized she did not belong there?

The tiny room smelled faintly of detergent and coffee drifting up from the diner downstairs. The apartment had always been small, but tonight it felt unbearably fragile, like one wrong move could shatter the little stability she had fought so hard to build.

She stared at the acceptance letter lying on the bed Prestige University, Full Scholarship, Texas and her fingers trembled slightly as she picked it up again. Not because she hadn't read it a hundred times already, but because it still didn't feel real.

"Stop staring at it like it's going to disappear." Sophia Reed dropped dramatically onto the bed, nearly crushing the letter beneath her, and Isabella quickly snatched it away.

"Sophia!"

"What?" Sophia laughed. "If that paper gets any more attention, I'm going to start getting jealous." Isabella rolled her eyes, but a small smile pulled at her lips.

Sophia sat up and grabbed Isabella's wrist, looking at her with the kind of steady sincerity that always made Isabella uncomfortable. "No, seriously. Look at me. You did this," she said softly. "You. Not luck. Not pity. You worked yourself to death for this scholarship." Isabella looked away immediately, because compliments like that especially the ones that sounded completely genuine never sat well with her.

Her eyes drifted slowly around the apartment, taking in the peeling walls, the old couch Clara had bought years ago from a thrift store, and the tiny kitchen where she had spent countless late nights studying while eating instant noodles. Everything in this apartment carried struggle, and every corner reminded her exactly where she came from. Maybe that was exactly why leaving terrified her.

"You're thinking too much again," Sophia said.

"I always think too much."

"Yeah, but this time your face looks extra tragic." Isabella laughed quietly, and Sophia reached over and squeezed her shoulder. "You are going to Prestige University," Sophia said slowly, staring at her like she still couldn't believe it. "Do you actually understand how insane that sounds?"

"That's exactly the problem. I don't belong there." The words escaped before Isabella could stop them, quiet and raw. She hated how easily fear stripped her voice of confidence, but it had been growing inside her ever since the acceptance letter arrived. Prestige University was filled with people who had grown up with money, confidence, and power people who had never worried about rent or skipped meals to save money, people who would look at her and immediately know she came from nothing.

Sophia sat straighter. "Don't start."

"I'm serious." Isabella zipped her suitcase harder than necessary. "Those people are rich. Powerful. They've lived completely different lives."

"And you graduated top of your class while working two jobs," Sophia said firmly, crossing her arms. "That university accepted you because you earned it. Not because they felt sorry for you."

The apartment door opened before Isabella could respond, and both girls turned. Clara stepped inside slowly, her dark coat dripping rainwater onto the floor, her sharp eyes landing instantly on Isabella's suitcase. Clara had always carried a strange heaviness around her even in quiet moments she looked like someone bracing for disaster, her shoulders tense, her expression guarded whenever certain topics came up. It made Isabella feel, as it always had since childhood, like there were invisible pieces missing from her life.

"So," Clara said quietly, setting a paper bag on the table. "It's finally packed." Isabella nodded. Sophia stood up awkwardly, already reaching for her jacket, but Clara stopped her. "You can stay." That surprised both of them Clara was rarely warm with anyone, especially Sophia.

Clara removed her coat carefully and looked at Isabella. "You leave tomorrow morning. You have your documents? Your ID? Scholarship papers?" Isabella answered yes to each one, and then silence filled the room again, the way it always did between them. There were moments when Isabella felt like Clara wanted to say something important - something big enough to change everything but the words never came. Instead, Clara walked to the small kitchen and began unpacking food from the paper bag.

Sophia leaned toward Isabella and whispered dramatically, "She scares me."

"I heard that," Clara said flatly, and Sophia immediately sat upright.

"You should eat," Clara said, turning to Isabella.

"I'm not hungry."

"You barely ate this morning."

"I said I'm fine."

Clara turned slowly. "You think surviving on coffee and stress makes you strong?" Isabella looked down, and Sophia quietly raised both hands as if to signal she was staying out of it. Clara sighed and walked toward Isabella, her voice dropping into something softer and more careful than usual. "You've worked hard your entire life. You don't need to prove yourself every second." The gentleness caught Isabella completely off guard, because Clara almost never spoke that way, and she felt her throat tighten with something she couldn't quite name.

"I just" she started, then stopped. Clara waited, but Isabella could never explain the feeling properly. There was always pressure sitting heavily inside her chest, tangled up with the fear of failing, the fear of losing everything she had worked for, and the terrifying thought that people would eventually realize she didn't truly belong anywhere.

Sophia suddenly clapped her hands together loudly. "Okay! Everyone is getting emotional and I hate it. We are celebrating tonight."

"With what money?" Isabella asked.

Sophia grinned. "I stole fries from work." Isabella burst out laughing, and even Clara shook her head slightly.

For the next hour the apartment felt lighter. Sophia talked nonstop about Texas, about billionaire students, about finding Isabella a rich husband.

"Absolutely not," Isabella said.

"Why not? You're smart and pretty. Go secure the bag."

"I'm going there to study."

"Mhm." Sophia pointed accusingly. "That's what they all say before falling in love with some emotionally unavailable rich boy."

Clara's expression shifted almost instantly, just subtly enough that most people would have missed it, but Isabella noticed. "Love distracts people," Clara said coldly.

"Why does everyone in this apartment hate romance?" Sophia groaned.

"I don't hate romance," Isabella said.

Sophia narrowed her eyes. "You have never dated anyone in your entire life. You rejected Carlos, you rejected Mason" Isabella grabbed a pillow and threw it toward her, laughing, and Sophia smirked. "Exactly. You're picky."

"Prestige University is not a place for distractions." Clara's tone had gone serious, the warmth from earlier vanishing completely. "Those wealthy families destroy people like us." The apartment went quiet, and Isabella looked at her carefully, because there it was again that strange bitterness that crept into Clara's voice whenever rich people were mentioned, sharp and personal in a way that had always felt like more than just a general opinion.

"Clara..." Isabella started carefully, but Clara shook her head.

"Just remember why you're going there."

"To build a future."

"Yes." Clara's eyes darkened slightly. "Not to trust people who were born with silver spoons in their mouths. Some people ruin lives with money and never lose sleep over it." The words settled heavily in the room, and Sophia looked between them nervously before standing up and announcing she needed to leave before it turned into a therapy session.

Isabella hugged her tightly at the door. "You're going to do amazing things," Sophia said, squeezing her. "And if any rich kids annoy you, call me. I'll fight them."

"You're five foot five."

"And dangerous."

After Sophia left, silence returned with the rain still tapping softly against the window. Clara sat across from Isabella without speaking, and for several long moments neither of them moved. Then Clara reached into her pocket and placed a silver necklace on the table between them old and beautiful, with a small moon-shaped pendant resting at its center.

"What's this?" Isabella asked softly.

"It belonged to your mother." Isabella froze. They almost never talked about her parents, and whenever Isabella had asked questions growing up, Clara had always found a way to redirect or go quiet entirely.

"She loved this necklace," Clara said quietly. Isabella picked it up carefully, turning the pendant over in her fingers. "What was she like?" she asked, and Clara looked away for a moment, seeming to go somewhere else entirely before answering.

"She was kind. She loved you."

"How do you know?" Isabella's fingers tightened around the pendant.

"Because no mother could look at you and not love you." Clara's voice cracked slightly at the end, so quietly that most people wouldn't have caught it, but Isabella did, and her chest tightened painfully. She wanted to believe those words more than anything, yet years of unanswered questions made it difficult. If her mother had loved her so much, why had she never come back? Isabella looked down quickly because she hated crying in front of people, so she focused on the necklace instead.

"You never talk about them," Isabella said. "Why?" Clara stayed silent, and Isabella slowly lifted her eyes. "Did they abandon me?" The question came out smaller than she intended vulnerable, almost childlike and she hated that, hated how those questions still made her feel like the lonely little girl who used to stare out apartment windows wondering why nobody ever came looking for her.

Clara's face changed instantly. "No." The answer came too quickly, too sharply, and Isabella noticed.

"Then what happened?"

Clara stood abruptly. "That's enough questions for tonight." The warmth from earlier vanished completely, and Isabella's stomach tightened because this always happened questions always led to walls between them.

"I'm eighteen now," Isabella said quietly. "Don't I deserve the truth?" Clara faced the window, her shoulders stiffening. "You deserve a future," she said, and Isabella shook her head.

"That's not what I asked. You always do this. You think avoiding the past protects me, but it doesn't." Clara finally turned, and for the first time all night Isabella saw something raw in her expression real fear, the kind that couldn't be faked.

"You don't understand," Clara whispered.

"Then help me understand." Clara stared at her for several long seconds before walking closer, very slowly, as if measuring every word before she spoke it. "You are going to Prestige University tomorrow," she said carefully. "You are going there to change your life. Do not let the past distract you."

"Why won't you tell me who my parents were?" Isabella pressed, and Clara looked at her with such intensity that Isabella stopped breathing for a second.

"Because the truth destroys people." She said it so quietly it almost sounded like a confession. A chill crawled slowly down Isabella's arms, because the fear in Clara's eyes didn't look like an excuse it looked personal, deep, like whatever truth she was hiding had already ruined lives before. Clara walked away before Isabella could say anything else, and the bedroom door closed softly behind her.

Isabella stood motionless in the middle of the apartment, her thoughts spiraling painfully. The truth destroys people. She looked down at the necklace still curled in her palm, then toward Clara's closed door, and something felt wrong - not new, because it had always been there, that quiet feeling that pieces of her life were missing, that everyone else had received a full story while she only got fragments.

Her phone buzzed on the bed. Sophia: Still alive? Isabella smiled faintly and typed back: Barely. Sophia: Dramatic. Isabella: Clara started talking about rich people again. Sophia: Ah yes. Her favorite hobby. Then: Nervous about tomorrow? Isabella stared at the message for a moment, typed the word very, and then erased it before sending: No. Three dots appeared immediately. Sophia: Liar. Isabella laughed quietly. Then another message: I think your entire life is about to change.

Isabella looked around the tiny apartment one more time the cracked walls, the weak light, the heavy silence and thought that maybe Sophia was right. But for some reason, that thought scared her more than it excited her.

Later that night she couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes her thoughts spiraled uncontrollably through Prestige University and Texas and new people and a new life, and the possibilities that should have excited her only twisted anxiously in her stomach. She lay staring at the ceiling while rain continued falling outside, touching the necklace around her neck every few minutes, Clara's words cycling through her head on a loop. The truth destroys people.

Around two in the morning Isabella finally sat up, a strange unsettled feeling pressing heavily in her chest, like something was about to happen. She quietly walked toward the kitchen for water, but halfway there, voices stopped her. Clara was on the phone, her voice low and careful in the dark.

"She's leaving tomorrow," Clara whispered. A pause. "No. She still doesn't know anything. She cannot find out the truth yet." Isabella's heartbeat slowed, something cold sliding down her spine as she moved closer without making a sound, her fingers tightening around the edge of the wall. "I spent eighteen years protecting her," Clara continued, her voice dropping even lower. "If the Jackson family sees her face" The sentence stopped abruptly, and the silence that followed was worse than the words.

Isabella froze completely behind the wall, her entire body going cold. The Jackson family. The name echoed violently inside her head she had never heard Clara mention them before, not once and yet Clara sounded terrified, as though Isabella's face alone could destroy something irreplaceable. Her breathing became uneven as questions crashed through her mind so fast they almost hurt. Who were the Jacksons? What did they have to do with her? And why did Clara sound like she had been hiding this secret for years?

Then Clara spoke again, barely above a whisper. "She looks exactly like her now. If they discover Isabella is alive before we are ready, everything will fall apart."

By the time Isabella arrived in Texas, the sky had already begun turning orange. She stood outside the apartment building with one suitcase beside her and exhaustion sitting heavily on her shoulders, watching cars rush past without slowing down, their headlights flashing across her face while warm evening wind brushed against her skin. Texas felt nothing like home. Everything looked larger here the roads, the buildings, even the silence between strangers carried a different weight, like the city had no interest in making anyone feel comfortable.

The landlord handed her a spare key before pointing toward the second floor. "Apartment 2B. The university is only ten minutes away." Isabella nodded politely and thanked him, and he studied her tired expression for a moment before offering a small smile. "First time living alone?" She hesitated before answering yes. "Well," he said, "you picked a good city for starting over." The phrase stayed in her mind long after he walked away.

The apartment itself was simple a small kitchen, a narrow hallway, cream colored walls that looked almost empty beneath the evening light. It was not luxurious, but Isabella found herself smiling anyway, because for the first time in a long while, nobody was shouting, nobody was banging on doors, and nobody was reminding her that she was unwanted. She placed her suitcase near the couch and walked toward the window overlooking the city streets below, and a soft breath escaped her lips. "This could work," she whispered, and this time, she almost believed it.

About an hour later Isabella found herself inside a busy supermarket downtown, pushing a cart through crowded aisles while trying not to feel overwhelmed. A child cried somewhere near the snacks section, music drifted softly from speakers overhead, and everything smelled faintly of coffee and fresh bread. She grabbed necessities carefully pasta, bread, eggs, soap, cheap, cereal checking price tags twice before placing anything into her cart, and her fingers tightened around the handle when she realized how quickly money disappeared. "Texas is definitely trying to bankrupt me already," she muttered, and an elderly woman passing nearby laughed softly. "You get used to it eventually, sweetheart." Isabella smiled awkwardly. "I hope so."

As she turned into the cosmetics aisle, her steps slowed without warning. A massive advertisement hung above a luxury makeup display near the center of the store, and at first Isabella barely glanced at it but then she stopped completely, her heartbeat stumbling in her chest. The woman in the advertisement looked exactly like her. Not similar, not close, but exactly the same eyes, the same lips, the same dark hair framing the same face Isabella had stared at in mirrors her entire life. The only difference was the confidence radiating from the woman in the photograph, who looked polished and elegant and untouchable in a way Isabella had never felt. Underneath the image, bold golden letters read: MIRABELLA VANCE THE FACE OF LUXE BEAUTY.

Isabella stepped closer to the poster without realizing she was doing it. A sales assistant noticed her staring. "Beautiful, right?" Isabella swallowed carefully. "Who is she?" The assistant looked surprised by the question. "You seriously don't know Mirabella Vance? She's everywhere online billionaire family, fashion icon, makeup ambassador. People are completely obsessed with her." Isabella barely heard the rest, because she was still staring at the woman's face, at her own face, while a strange chill crept slowly down her spine. "Do people ever tell her" she started, then stopped herself. The assistant frowned. "Tell her what?" "That she looks like someone else?" The girl laughed casually. "I doubt there's anyone else who looks like Mirabella Vance." Isabella forced a smile, but her chest felt tight, because she was standing right there.

Later that evening Isabella returned home with grocery bags hanging from both arms, and the moment the apartment door closed behind her, silence wrapped around her again but tonight it did not feel peaceful. She unpacked her groceries slowly before taking a long shower, hoping the hot water would calm the strange uneasiness growing inside her chest, but it didn't help. After changing into comfortable clothes she sat cross-legged on her bed with her university papers spread around her class schedules, campus maps, registration forms and told herself to focus. Tomorrow would be her first day at one of the most prestigious universities in Texas, and she should have been excited. Instead, her mind kept drifting back to that face, that impossible face, until she finally switched off the bedside lamp and lay down beneath the blankets. Sleep refused to come easily, and every time she closed her eyes, she saw the woman from the advertisement staring back at her.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains and warmed the small apartment with golden light. Isabella opened her eyes slowly and smiled to herself, taking a quiet moment to let the feeling settle today was important, a fresh beginning, a chance to become someone better than the girl she had left behind. She got ready carefully, taking extra time brushing her hair and choosing an outfit that looked decent without appearing like she had tried too hard, though her hands moved a little slower than usual and she caught herself staring at her own reflection longer than she meant to. On the bus ride to campus her nerves only worsened, and she kept adjusting the strap of her bag while watching buildings pass outside the window, rehearsing nothing in particular, just trying to breathe steadily.

When the university finally came into view, her breath caught entirely. The campus was breathtaking massive glass buildings reflected the bright morning sky while students walked confidently through crowded pathways lined with trees and fountains, and everything about it looked expensive and purposeful and alive. Isabella stood near the entrance for a moment, taking it all in quietly, and pride flickered warm and steady inside her chest. "I actually made it here," she whispered.

Then the sharp sound of an expensive engine cut through the morning noise around her, and several students nearby turned their heads at once. A sleek black Rolls-Royce pulled slowly into the driveway near the entrance gates, and whispers spread through the crowd almost instantly she's here already, did you know her family owns half of Houston and Isabella frowned slightly at the name before her stomach could even tighten. The driver stepped out first, dressed neatly in black gloves and a tailored suit, and walked around to open the back door carefully. One elegant heel touched the ground first, and then she stepped out fully, and the world seemed to stop breathing.

Isabella froze completely. The girl from the advertisement lifted her sunglasses slowly and froze too, shock flashing openly across both their faces at exactly the same moment. Neither of them moved while students around them began murmuring louder, some reaching for their phones, voices layering over each other in disbelief wait, what, they look exactly alike. Mirabella stared at Isabella as though she had seen a ghost, and the confidence surrounding her moments earlier cracked, not completely, but enough for Isabella to notice.

Mirabella took one slow step forward and Isabella instinctively mirrored the movement, bringing them close enough now that Isabella could see tiny details the way Mirabella's jaw was set, the careful blankness she was trying to hold onto, the faint tremor at the corner of her mouth that gave her away. Mirabella looked more polished and controlled than anyone Isabella had ever stood beside, the kind of person who had spent her entire life being admired, and Isabella felt painfully ordinary beneath her stare. But the resemblance between them was terrifying, because even their expressions matched.

Mirabella spoke first, her voice quieter than Isabella expected. "Who are you?" Isabella opened her mouth but no words came immediately, because hearing Mirabella's voice felt like hearing her own the same tone, the same softness running underneath the words. Mirabella crossed her arms slowly, though the movement looked more defensive than confident. "This is not possible," she whispered. "I don't understand either," Isabella admitted softly.

Students had already begun recording on their phones, and whispers continued to ripple outward through the crowd as Mirabella glanced around uncomfortably and then stepped even closer to Isabella, her eyes searching Isabella's face carefully, almost desperately, as though she were trying to find the flaw that would explain everything away. Then her expression changed completely the color drained from her face and her lips parted slightly, as though she had just remembered something horrifying.

"What's wrong?" Isabella asked nervously, but Mirabella didn't answer. Instead her gaze dropped slowly toward the silver necklace hanging around Isabella's neck the small crescent-shaped pendant resting at its center and the silence that followed was heavier than anything either of them had said. Because Mirabella was wearing the same one.

The silence between Isabella and Mirabella felt heavier than the crowd surrounding them.

Students stood frozen near the university entrance, whispering among themselves while phones remained raised in the air.

Nobody had ever seen anything like this before.

Two girls.

One face.

Mirabella stared at Isabella as though she were something offensive standing directly in front of her.

Something that should not exist.

Her eyes slowly traveled across Isabella's clothes, her cheap bag, her nervous posture.

Then her lips curled slightly.

Not into a smile.

Into disgust.

"Why do you look like me?" she asked quietly.

The words were soft.

But sharp enough to cut.

Isabella opened her mouth, but no sound came out immediately.

Because she did not know the answer either.

Mirabella's gaze hardened when Isabella remained silent.

"You are seriously not going to say anything?"

"I..." Isabella swallowed carefully. "I do not know."

Mirabella laughed once under her breath, though there was no humor in it.

"Convenient."

One of the girls standing behind Mirabella folded her arms. "This is honestly creepy."

"Maybe she is obsessed with you," another suggested.

Mirabella continued staring at Isabella without blinking.

The resemblance unsettled her.

That was obvious now.

But instead of fear, Mirabella covered it with arrogance.

With cruelty.

Isabella noticed.

And somehow that hurt more.

Students nearby kept whispering loudly.

"Are they twins?"

"They have the same eyes."

"This is insane."

Mirabella suddenly looked away first, clearly irritated by the attention around them.

"Come on," she muttered to her friends before brushing past Isabella's shoulder.

The movement was deliberate.

Cold.

Isabella lost her balance slightly from the impact but quickly steadied herself.

As Mirabella walked away, a group of students immediately followed behind her.

"That is Jackson's daughter."

"The Jackson family?"

"Of course. Who else drives a Rolls-Royce to campus every morning?"

"She is literally business royalty."

Isabella quietly stood there, listening.

Jackson.

The powerful tycoon.

Even she had heard the name before.

Her eyes slowly followed Mirabella disappearing into the crowd.

Rich.

Powerful.

Admired.

And somehow carrying the exact same face as her.

The thought made Isabella's chest tighten strangely.

A few minutes later, Isabella finally found her classroom after getting lost twice inside the massive university building.

The lecture hall was already half full when she stepped inside.

Conversations filled the room, but several students turned the moment they noticed her.

Then the whispering started again.

Isabella pretended not to hear it.

She walked quietly toward the front row and sat near the window, placing her notebook carefully on the desk while avoiding eye contact with everyone around her.

She hated attention.

Back home, attention usually brought problems.

A few students continued staring openly at her.

Others secretly took pictures.

Isabella noticed.

She simply chose not to react.

A few minutes later, loud laughter echoed from outside the classroom.

The atmosphere shifted instantly.

Students straightened in their seats almost automatically.

Then Mirabella walked in with three girls following closely behind her.

Confidence radiated from her naturally.

She did not even glance around the room at first, because she already expected everyone to notice her.

And they did.

The moment students saw her, several immediately stood up.

"You can sit here, Mirabella."

"No, take mine."

"There is space over here."

Mirabella barely acknowledged them.

One of her friends smirked. "Move."

The students obeyed immediately.

But instead of taking the offered seats near the center, Mirabella walked toward the back row casually.

Her eyes briefly landed on Isabella sitting alone in front.

The resemblance hit her again instantly.

Mirabella looked away almost immediately afterward.

As though looking too long made her uncomfortable.

She sat at the back beside the window while her friends continued whispering around her.

"Why is she sitting here?"

"She really thinks she belongs."

Mirabella leaned back in her chair quietly, though her gaze kept drifting toward Isabella despite herself.

It irritated her.

Everything about this situation irritated her.

Especially the fact that she could not stop looking.

Suddenly the classroom door opened again.

A tall man wearing glasses entered with several books in his hands.

The room quickly fell silent.

"Good morning, everyone."

"Good morning, sir," the students responded together.

The lecturer placed his books on the desk before adjusting his glasses slightly.

"My name is Professor Carter, and I will be teaching Business Management this semester."

He smiled briefly.

"I hope at least some of you are here because you actually care about business and not because your parents forced you."

A few students laughed.

Mirabella did not.

Professor Carter began the lecture immediately afterward, speaking confidently while writing key points across the board.

For the first thirty minutes, Isabella focused carefully on her notes.

She genuinely wanted to succeed here.

This university meant everything to her future.

But concentration became difficult whenever she felt eyes on her.

Every single time she looked back -

Mirabella was staring.

Not openly.

Not enough for anyone else to notice.

But enough for Isabella to feel it.

At one point their eyes accidentally met.

Mirabella looked away first.

Her jaw tightened slightly afterward.

Almost annoyed with herself.

The lecture continued for nearly two hours.

By the end, students already looked exhausted.

The moment Professor Carter dismissed the class, conversations exploded throughout the room again.

Chairs scraped loudly against the floor while students packed their bags.

Isabella remained seated for a moment longer, organizing her notes carefully before standing.

As she walked toward the exit, she overheard two girls whispering nearby.

"They seriously look like copies."

"No, it is actually terrifying."

"I heard Mirabella is furious."

"Obviously. Imagine someone suddenly stealing your face."

The words stung more than Isabella expected.

She lowered her head slightly and continued walking.

The cafeteria was crowded by lunchtime.

Students filled nearly every table while the smell of coffee and fried food lingered heavily in the air.

Isabella stood quietly in line near the drinks section, staring at the menu overhead while trying to decide what she could actually afford.

Eventually, she settled for tea and bread.

Simple.

Cheap.

Safe.

The line moved slowly.

People chatted around her while soft music played overhead.

Then suddenly

The entire atmosphere changed.

Students began moving aside almost immediately.

Some left the line completely.

Others straightened awkwardly while whispering.

Isabella frowned slightly in confusion.

"What is happening?"

The girl in front of her leaned closer. "Mirabella is here."

As though that explained everything.

A few seconds later, Mirabella entered the cafeteria with her usual group surrounding her.

Her heels clicked sharply against the floor while conversations lowered around her.

Nobody told Isabella the unspoken rules.

Nobody warned her.

So she remained exactly where she was.

Still holding her tray.

Still waiting for her tea.

Mirabella noticed instantly.

Her steps slowed slightly.

One of her friends scoffed loudly. "Seriously?"

Another crossed her arms. "She is either brave or stupid."

Isabella finally collected her tea and bread before turning carefully -

And suddenly something caught her ankle.

Her body jerked forward violently.

The tray slipped from her hands.

Hot tea spilled across the floor.

The cup shattered loudly.

Gasps echoed around the cafeteria as Isabella hit the ground hard.

Pain shot through her palms instantly.

For half a second, complete silence filled the room.

Then quiet laughter followed.

One of Mirabella's friends slowly pulled back her leg with an innocent expression.

"Oh my God," she said mockingly. "I did not even see her there."

More laughter spread.

Isabella's cheeks burned with humiliation.

She immediately began gathering the broken pieces while kneeling on the floor.

Her fingers trembled slightly.

Not from pain.

From embarrassment.

Then expensive heels stopped directly in front of her.

Mirabella.

She slowly crouched down, picking up the fallen teacup lid between two fingers before staring at Isabella silently.

The cafeteria watched closely.

Waiting.

Mirabella tilted her head slightly. "You should probably learn how things work around here."

Her voice remained calm.

Too calm.

Isabella slowly stood up, breathing carefully.

Tea stains covered part of her sleeve now.

Mirabella's eyes briefly flickered toward it.

Then toward Isabella's face again.

That face.

That identical face.

It irritated her more every time she saw it.

Without warning, Mirabella reached up and grabbed Isabella's chin roughly.

The cafeteria went silent again.

"Maybe if you stopped following me around "

Isabella immediately pulled her hand away.

Not aggressively.

But firmly.

The movement surprised everyone.

Including Mirabella.

For the first time since arriving at the university, Isabella looked directly into Mirabella's eyes without fear.

"I do not know who you are," she said quietly.

The cafeteria remained completely still.

"And I have never offended you."

Mirabella's expression hardened slightly.

Isabella continued, though her voice trembled just a little.

"So I think you should stop picking on me."

No yelling.

No drama.

Just honesty.

That somehow made the moment heavier.

Mirabella stared at her silently.

Almost shocked.

Nobody spoke to Mirabella that way.

Nobody.

Especially not calmly.

One of her friends immediately stepped forward. "Watch your tone."

But Isabella had already picked up her bag.

She looked exhausted now, more than angry.

"I just came here to study," she said softly before turning away.

Then she walked out of the cafeteria without looking back.

The silence she left behind felt strange.

Uncomfortable.

Mirabella remained standing there, motionless.

Her jaw clenched tightly.

Not because Isabella had insulted her.

But because something about those words lingered unpleasantly in her chest.

For a brief second

she almost felt guilty.

And she hated that feeling immediately.

"Mirabella?" one of her friends called carefully.

Mirabella snapped out of her thoughts. "What?"

"You okay?"

"I am fine."

But she did not sound fine.

Not even close.

Near the far corner of the cafeteria, someone quietly watched everything unfold.

Floyd.

He leaned casually against the wall with one hand in his pocket, slowly sipping black coffee.

His sharp eyes followed Isabella disappearing through the cafeteria doors.

Interesting.

Most people would have cried.

Or screamed.

Or tried desperately to defend themselves.

But Isabella did none of those things.

She stayed polite even while being humiliated.

That kind of restraint usually came from pain.

Real pain.

Floyd glanced toward Mirabella again.

She looked angry on the surface.

But underneath that anger

confusion.

Fear.

And something else he could not fully read yet.

He lowered his coffee cup slowly.

Then his phone vibrated in his pocket.

A message from Clara.

Watch them carefully. Especially Isabella.

Floyd stared at the text briefly before typing back.

You already know something, don't you?

Three dots appeared immediately.

Then disappeared.

Finally another message arrived.

And the moment Floyd read it

his expression completely changed.

If Isabella remembers the fire, everything will collapse.