The Fleeing Princess

The moment his words reached me, my chest tightened painfully.

Once, I had been locked in a storage unit by a rival company. Everyone thought I’d been careless, but he had searched the city for me, found me, pulled me into his arms, and whispered words I thought I’d never forget—

“It’s okay. I’m here.”

Back then, I let myself believe he might care for me. That maybe he even loved me.

But now?

Now I knew better.

He didn’t care. He never had.

He punished me without even asking for the truth. He chose her—every damn time.

“Don’t touch me!” I tried to break free, desperate, and when his grip only tightened, I sank my teeth into his hand until he cursed and let go.

His face darkened, but instead of arguing, he simply started the car.

When we reached his penthouse, he didn’t give me a choice. He scooped me up, carried me inside like I weighed nothing, and dropped me on the velvet couch.

I shot to my feet, ready to scream, when he pressed a warm sandwich into my hands.

“Eat,” he ordered flatly. “You’ve got work after this.”

I shoved it away. “I don’t need your pity. Stay the hell away from me.”

His lips curled into something between a smirk and a threat as he leaned close, one hand braced beside my head. “Stay away? Tell me, sweetheart—could you really?”

The words sliced through me, because he was right. Once, I couldn’t. Once, I was his no matter how much it burned.

But now? Now it only made me hate him more.

I forced myself to look away, jaw clenched.

For a long moment, he studied my face, then asked quietly, “Why didn’t you defend yourself today? You weren’t the one at fault.”

My breath caught. He’d seen?

But the bitter laugh tore from me before I could stop it.

“What good would it do? No one believes me. They never have. And they never will.”

“I would.”

Two small words. Soft. Steady. Like a promise.

I froze, but then the reality came crashing back, cold and merciless. His version of “believing me” was throwing me into a freezing hell for something I hadn’t done.

His belief was worth nothing.

Then came the blade that twisted deeper:

“But Elena is still your sister. She’s kind. Gentle. Why do you hold such hatred for her?”

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood.

“Stay out of my life.”

Shoving him back, I stormed upstairs and slammed the door.

He didn’t follow. Not that day.

Instead, it was Elena who came slithering into my phone screen with her texts and photos.

He walked her through the bustling art fair, pointing out details I had once described to him first.

Later, they ducked into a quiet café, leaning close over steaming cups, his laughter soft and intimate.

By the time they stepped outside, the autumn breeze had him draping his scarf around her shoulders.

Every gesture, every glance, every small touch—I had imagined them with me, not her.

He had never done any of that for me. Not once.

I curled under the blanket, clutching my phone so hard it hurt. My flight was already booked. Just two more weeks. Two weeks and I’d be free of this nightmare.

The next morning, I left early, nerves raw. Today was everything. My thesis defense. My chance to prove myself.

But the universe wasn’t done with me.

He was waiting by the car.

“Get in.”

I turned away. “I’ll walk.”

His hand closed around my arm, shoving me into the seat with a strength that made my bones ache.

“You want me to drag you in front of everyone and make you late?”

The threat was real, sharp as glass. I sat still, heart hammering.

I couldn’t afford to be late today. Not when I’d poured blood and sleepless nights into this work.

But fate was cruel.

When it was finally my turn, I froze.

Because Elena was standing at the podium before me, smiling sweetly, her slides glowing across the giant screen.

And they weren’t just similar to mine.

They were mine.

My research. My analysis. My words.

Everything I had worked for, stolen and displayed as hers.

“This thesis,” she said brightly, “is the product of years of effort. I am honored to present it—”

“Stop!” My voice cracked through the silence. I shot to my feet, fury shaking every nerve. “That’s my thesis. She plagiarized me!”

Gasps rippled across the hall.

Elena turned, eyes wide with feigned innocence. “Isabella… what are you saying? This is my work. You can’t accuse me without proof.”

“You lying snake!” My chest burned as I spun toward him—toward the only man who knew the truth. He’d seen me draft it. He’d given me notes. He knew.

But his face was blank, voice cool and condemning.

“Isabella, this isn’t the time. Don’t cause a scene.”

My world collapsed with those words.

He silenced me. For her. Again.

Whispers broke out behind me.

“She’s always been arrogant.”

“Typical. Trying to steal credit when she has none.”

“Thank god the elder sister is here to save the family’s name.”

Elena’s gaze locked with mine, a flash of triumph glittering there as she turned back to the committee.

“Shall we continue?”

Something inside me snapped.

I walked forward, calm as ice.

Lifted a glass of water from the desk.

And before anyone could stop me, I slammed it down on her laptop.

Water exploded across the table. Gasps filled the hall.