The Fleeing Princess

The crash of the water on Elena’s laptop silenced the entire hall.

She let out a sharp scream and stumbled straight into Adrian’s arms. “Adrian, I—I’m scared…”

He pulled her close instantly, his hand stroking her shoulder, eyes snapping to me like shards of ice.

“Isabella Russo,” he said, voice hard as steel, “I told you to sit down and let her continue. If you keep this up, don’t blame me for what happens next.”

My chest constricted. He never called me by my full name—unless he meant to wound.

But instead of cowering, I laughed, the sound bitter.

“You said this thesis was yours, didn’t you, Elena? Then prove it. If you really wrote it, you should be able to present every detail without your precious laptop.”

Color drained from her face, but she clutched Adrian’s sleeve with trembling fingers. “There’s too much data, I… I can’t remember it all…”

“Then let me help refresh your memory.”

I turned toward the committee, my voice clear and steady.

“First section: a summary of the migration patterns recorded across the North American and Southeast Asian regions…”

Pages rustled. Professors bent over their copies of the thesis.

“Second section: detailed genetic sequencing results. Sample population—1,193. Success rate—92.4 percent. Anomalies catalogued—forty-nine. The full statistical variance ratio is exactly 2.39155622…”

Gasps echoed around the room as I continued, laying out line after line of figures, each one a perfect match.

By the time I finished, the room was silent. Even those who’d sneered at me earlier now looked at me with something like respect.

And Elena? She was pale, trembling, eyes darting wildly as if searching for an escape.

“So,” I said coolly, turning back to her, “now that everyone knows exactly whose research this is, maybe you’d like to explain yourself, thief.”

Her knees nearly buckled. But before she could speak, Adrian was on his feet, slipping an arm around her to hold her steady. His glare cut through me like a blade.

“Isabella, enough. You’ve disrupted this defense long enough. Security—remove her.”

My nails dug into my palms until blood threatened to break skin.

“What? I was defending my work! I’m the one whose thesis was stolen, and you’re throwing me out?”

“Take her out.” His voice cracked like a whip.

“Miss Russo, please don’t make this harder,” the guard muttered, stepping toward me.

“Don’t touch me!” I snapped, wrenching free, tears burning in my eyes as I glared at Adrian. “You bastard. You can’t even tell right from wrong!”

But he didn’t even look at me. His only concern was the trembling woman clinging to him.

And the triumphant spark in Elena’s eyes as I was dragged away pierced me deeper than any blade.

I laughed then. Low. Broken. My vision blurred.

“Fine. I’ll leave myself.”

My ankle twisted as the guard released me, pain lancing through my leg, but I forced my spine straight, chin high, and walked out one step at a time.

Straight into his office.

I yanked the stack of magazines off the shelf, sending them tumbling across the floor with a loud crash. Papers scattered, coffee mugs teetered and clattered to the ground. My hands trembled, chest heaving, as I kicked at the pile, each thud echoing my frustration.

I collapsed into the only untouched armchair, hair disheveled, cheeks burning.

When Adrian finally entered, his expression didn’t change—not a flicker of surprise. Just that faint, almost indulgent shake of the head he reserved for children throwing tantrums. He closed the door behind him with infuriating calm.

“Feel better now, princess?”

I lifted my eyes to his, a cold smile tugging at my lips. “What’s wrong? Not running back to comfort the thief who stole my research?”

“She’s your sister,” he said sharply, jaw tight. “Do you have to be so vicious? Even if she made mistakes, you didn’t need to humiliate her in front of everyone.”

I laughed, bitter and raw. “And you didn’t need to protect her while letting them spit on me.”

“You’re a grown woman, Isabella. Control your temper. Stop acting like a child.”

My stomach turned. God, how had I ever loved this man?

But it didn’t matter anymore. Not for long.

My phone buzzed on the table. A new notification lit up the screen before I could stop it.

[Your flight has been confirmed. Please find attached your ticket and seat number.]

My heart lurched. I reached for it too late.

His eyes narrowed, voice dropping to a lethal chill.

“Flight? What flight? Where the hell are you going?”