Rise of the Betrayed wife

Isla's POV:

Sienna stood in the doorway, her blonde was hair perfectly styled, her smile so sweet it could rot teeth.

"Oh, Isla!" she exclaimed, rushing forward with exaggerated concern. "I was so worried when I heard what happened. Are you okay?"

She reached out to touch my arm, but I flinched back instinctively.

Her smile flickered for just a fraction of a second before she recovered.

"You poor thing," she cooed. "You must be in so much pain."

Behind her, Margot appeared, my stepmother's sharp eyes scanning me from head to toe like I was a piece of an item she was inspecting for defects.

"Well, at least you didn't break anything important," Margot said, her tone clipped. "We can't have you limping down the aisle at the wedding. What would people think?"

The wedding?

Right. In this timeline, I was still engaged to Declan. The wedding was supposed to be in three months.

Three months that would never happen. Not this time.

"Come in, come in," Margot said, stepping aside. "Don't just stand there on the doorstep like strangers."

Declan's hand pressed against the small of my back, guiding me inside. I forced myself not to recoil from his touch, even though every fiber of my being wanted to.

I had to be smart. I had to wait for the right moment.

As we stepped into the foyer, I watched Declan and Sienna. I really watched them this time around.

Their eyes met across the entryway, just for a second. It was brief, barely noticeable, but it was there. A look that lasted a heartbeat too long. A small smile that curved at the corner of Sienna's lips. The way Declan's gaze lingered on her before he looked away.

How had I never seen it before?

I'd been so stupidly in love back then. So desperate to make this marriage work, to be the perfect wife, to earn his affection. I'd been blind to what was right in front of me.

But now I saw everything.

The way they moved around each other like they shared a secret. The way Sienna's hand brushed against Declan's arm as she walked past, casual but deliberate. The way he didn't pull away.

It made me sick.

"Isla, don't just stand there," Margot's sharp voice cut through my thoughts. "Go make us some coffee. We have things to discuss."

I turned to look at her, my jaw tightening.

In my old life, I would have immediately obeyed. I would have shuffled off to the kitchen without question, grateful to be useful, desperate to avoid conflict.

But the woman who died on that glass table, the woman who'd been shoved and mocked and left to bleed out, she was done being obedient.

Still, I wasn't ready to show my hand yet. Not completely.

I nodded slowly and made my way toward the kitchen, feeling their eyes on my back.

As I prepared the coffee, my hands moved mechanically, my muscle memory taking over while my mind raced.

I could hear their voices drifting from the dining room. Margot was talking about seating arrangements for the wedding. Sienna was laughing about something, that tinkling, false sound that used to make me feel inadequate.

And Declan's deeper voice, agreeing with whatever Margot said, playing the role of the perfect son-in-law.

I poured the coffee into the expensive china cups Margot insisted on using, the ones I wasn't supposed to touch but was expected to serve with.

When I returned to the dining room with the tray, they were all seated around the table. My father had arrived too, sitting at the head of the table like a king surveying his kingdom.

He barely glanced at me as I set down the coffee.

"Careful with those," Margot snapped as I placed a cup in front of her. "Those are irreplaceable."

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep them from signing something I'd regret.

"Sit down, Isla," my father said, gesturing to the empty chair at the far end of the table. The seat furthest from him.

I sat, my ankle throbbing slightly from standing too long, though the pain was nothing compared to the rage burning furiously in my chest.

"Now that we're all here," Margot began, stirring sugar into her coffee with deliberate precision, "we need to finalize the wedding details. The venue has requested final numbers by the end of the week."

"The flowers need to be ordered," Sienna added, her eyes bright with fake enthusiasm. "And we still haven't decided on the centerpieces."

"The Andrea's are expecting a formal announcement in the business section of the Times," my father said, not looking at me. "This merger is important, Isla. Don't do anything to jeopardize it."

Merger. That's all I was to him. A bargaining chip in a business deal.

"I've already spoken to the photographer," Declan said smoothly. "Everything is arranged."

They talked about me like I wasn't even there. About my wedding like it was a corporate transaction they were managing. Not one person asked how I felt. Not one person asked if I was happy.

They never had.

I watched them, these people who were supposed to be my family, planning out my future without my input.

If only my mother was still alive.

Margot took a sip of her coffee and made a face. "Isla, this is too bitter. Make another pot."

Something inside me snapped.

I stood up abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound that made everyone stop talking.

All eyes turned to me.

My hands moved, signing clearly and deliberately, my movements sharp and precise.

*I'm not getting married to him.*

Silence fell over the table. Everyone looked so shocked, that their eyes went wide.

My father's face darkened. "What did she say?"

Sienna's eyes widened, her mouth falling open in shock.

"Is she serious?" Margot set down her cup furiously.

Declan leaned back in his chair, his expression became unreadable, but I could see the tension in his jaw.

I kept my hands raised, my heart pounding in my chest.

*I'm not getting married to Declan.*

My father stood up, his chair slamming backward. His face had gone red, the vein in his temple throbbing the way it always did when he was angry.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, his voice booming through the dining room. "Have you lost your mind?"

I stood my ground, my hands steady even though I was shaking inside.

*No.*

That was all I signed. One simple word.

No.