BOUND BY HIS NAME

Isabella's POV I was sitting at my usual seat, trying to finish the morning duties, when Ana walked over with her bright smile. "Did you do anything fun this weekend?" she asked, leaning slightly on the counter. I smiled and shook my head. "Not really. I was in the hospital with my mom all through the weekend... but did you?" She breathed out softly. "I went to that new café downtown. Did you hear about it?" "Which one?" I asked, curious. "The one near the park?" "Yes! Did you know they have free pastries on Sundays?" Ana whispered, laughing softly. We were still chatting about our weekend plans when a woman walked toward us. She moved like she owned the floor, her high heels clicking softly, her dress perfectly fitted and shining under the lights. Her eyelashes fluttered up and down like she was practicing a spell. "Miss Ella," she whispered, her voice low and silky. "The boss demands your presence in his office... immediately." Before I could answer, she eased past me, swaying slightly, then whispered again, "You better not keep him waiting." She glided away as if the floor belonged to her. Ana and I exchanged wide-eyed looks and whispered behind our hands, trying not to laugh. "Did you see how she walked?" Ana asked. "Like she's a model... does she always dress like that?" I whispered back. "Every day, I think... just to impress the boss?" Ana said, giggling. "Do you think he notices?" I asked quietly. "Maybe... but she's too much," Ana added, shaking her head with a laugh. I laughed too, but then reality hit me. My boss was calling me. My heart jumped. I hurried toward his office, my shoes clicking on the polished floor. When I opened the door, he was standing by the tall window. Mexico City stretched behind him, full of life, but he seemed lost in his own world. He held a glass of whisky, swirling it slowly. "Didn't Sophia call you?" he asked without turning. "She did," I whispered. "And you decided to stay... and do as you wished?" His voice was calm but sharp, like a blade. I froze, unsure of what to say. Then I whispered, "I... I forgot, sir." He finally turned to look at me, his eyes cold and serious. "I hope you remember next time. We don't condone disobedience here." "Yes, sir," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. He took a slow sip of his whisky and pointed at the table. "Take the envelope." I walked over, my heart pounding, and picked it up. The paper inside was crisp, but my stomach sank when I read the words: Termination of Employment. I fell to my knees, clutching the envelope. "Please... it wasn't intentional! I... I have no other job. My mother... her hospital bills... the rent..." My voice cracked. He turned toward me, calm on the outside, anger simmering in his dark eyes. "I don't want you to go back to your seat. Or even mention a word to Ana. Walk out of here. Go outside. Leave this company." "Sir, please. I'm sorry." He turned his back on me. "But... sir," I whispered. "At least let me carry my bag." He shook his head. "No need. All your belongings are outside, waiting for you. There's nothing more to carry." I swallowed hard, my hands trembling, as I slowly walked out. At that moment, I felt like I had been born with disgrace. Suffering. I thought of giving up. But... I dared not. I couldn't. Something kept pushing me forward-my sick mother, breathing with the help of a machine in the hospital. Seeing her in that condition broke my heart into pieces. I had no rich friends. No helpers. Just me and my dying mother. Outside, the streets of Mexico were cruel. The sky was dark, and the cold wind pulled at my body like it wanted to lift me off the ground. Each drop of rain seeped deep into my bones. Wrapped in tears and pain, I hugged my arms around my chest as I trudged through the streets. There was no money in my hand to book a taxi. So I walked in the storm, the rain flogging my body mercilessly, reminding me how lonely I was on this planet Earth. Each step grew heavier as I climbed the narrow stairs to Alex's apartment. At the entrance, I wiped the rain from my face, swallowing the knot in my throat. How will I break the news to Alex? I asked myself. The moment I pushed the door open, an unfamiliar fragrance hit me. It wasn't my perfume. Not Alex's either. It was strong-chalky and sweet. I froze. My heart began to race, the kind of fear that comes before seeing something you wish wasn't real. "Alex?" My voice cracked from fear and exhaustion. No reply. No sign of life. "I'm home... anyone?" The silence that followed was heavy and suspicious. I took a few steps when I heard a woman's voice coming from the bedroom. Without realizing it, my legs moved on their own toward the half-closed door. My fingers trembled as I pushed it open. To my greatest fear, it was exactly what I thought. "Alex," I cried. A woman was straddling him on the bed, her shirt half unbuttoned. Alex wasn't even surprised to see me. He looked like he felt he had the right to cheat. Finally, he spoke. "Isa," he said, "we need to talk," without a trace of remorse. "Alex, why?" My voice was barely a whisper. "For five years, I have been loyal-" "You've been loyal, so what?" he interrupted harshly. "Don't make this dramatic," he added coldly. "Why are you acting like you didn't see this coming?" My throat tightened. The betrayal tasted like blood, especially because it came from the person I trusted most. Alex sat up, completely unapologetic. "Isa, I can't do this anymore. I'm tired. I've been paying your rent, your mother's bills-everything. And you don't even have a well-paying job." His words hit harder than the rain outside. Tears slid down my face as my mouth hung open in disbelief. "You can't even take care of yourself," he continued. "How do you expect me to carry you forever?" I stepped back, shaking. "So this is it, Alex? You cheat just to push me away?" He turned his attention back to the woman. I watched as my dignity slipped through my fingers like wet sand. I couldn't stay. I dragged myself out of the room in shame. "Get your belongings at the back gate," Alex said lazily. "And don't forget to drop my keys." There was nothing left to pack. My clothes had already been thrown into the hallway-soaked and pitiful. Two minutes later, I stood outside under the rain, holding nothing but my phone. I walked to my mother's old house, the place we shared before she fell ill. It was a small self-contained building, with cracked walls and peeling white paint. When I arrived, my heart shattered again. The door was chained shut-a thick bulldog chain, locked with a large red padlock. A notice was attached to it. Two years of rent overdue. Property seized.