Ex Jealous of Her Brother

Isabel Taylor first met Johan Rice at a friend's party. He mentioned that a buddy of his, a wealthy entrepreneur, had just opened a new bar that was absolutely swanky and insisted they check it out. Isabel wasn't very keen, but she decided to go along out of politeness.

At the bar, Isabel didn't plan on drinking much. Her fiancé, Royce Taylor, never liked her drinking alcohol. Throughout her life, she'd only managed to sneak a few sips here and there. So, she casually ordered a cocktail, not expecting it to be so potent. After one sip, she was coughing uncontrollably.

Suddenly, a long, slender hand appeared next to her, offering a napkin. She looked up to see a man in a crisp white shirt, holding a glass of whiskey. He wore no accessories except for a watch, giving him a clean yet captivating look. The lighting made shadows dance from his long eyelashes onto his face.

Their eyes met, and his starry eyes curved into a subtle smile. "Not much of a drinker, are you? Take it slow." Isabel stood frozen, ears buzzing. For a moment, she seemed to see a 19-year-old Royce, standing at the school gates with a helpless smile. "Take your time after school. Don’t trip."

Her heart pounded violently, unsure if it was the alcohol or something else, as a sour warmth spread through her chest. Later, she would learn that this man was Johan Rice, the very entrepreneur her friend had mentioned.

Johan, besides being wealthy, was the center of attention with his looks alone, with women constantly approaching him for his contact information. Isabel, blushing, gathered the courage to ask for his number. Her friend warned her, "He's got women all around him. If you're just in it for fun, that's fine, but don't get too serious."

Isabel didn't heed the warning and pursued him for a year, visiting the bar daily, bringing him meals when it was sunny and an umbrella when it rained. Whether he wanted to chat or drink, she was there for him. She took care of him when he was sick, eventually persuading him to be with her. However, Johan's flirtatious nature never changed. His phone was flooded with calls and messages from new admirers who seemed to pop up at the VIP booths every week.

In less than six months, Isabel caught him cheating. She confronted him, and at first, he apologized and made promises. But over time, he simply stated, "Isabel, you know I can't just be with one person forever. I chose you because you're more understanding than others. Whether you accept that or not doesn’t matter." He shrugged, "We can break up."

Looking into eyes too similar to Royce's, Isabel was silent for a while before saying, "I accept."

Her friends were exasperated, calling her lovesick and foolish, but Isabel just smiled. Was she angry? Yes. Did she care? Sure. But not enough to leave—just seeing those eyes was enough for her.

Morning came, and Johan hadn't returned. Isabel called him and sent messages, but got no response. Returning home, she found her belongings tossed outside. Johan sat on the couch, one leg crossed, with Persephone Mills leaning against him. The two shared a passionate kiss right in front of her. "Didn’t you always complain when I brought people home?" Johan smirked, "Then you should move out. Problem solved."

It wasn't the first time Johan had kicked Isabel out. They had fought once before during a blizzard. He’d also kicked her out then, and she had sat outside until morning, catching a fever. Dizzy, she’d waited for him to open the door, where he stood, looking down at her. "Have you learned your lesson?"

In that moment, she should have been furious. But seeing him standing there with his arms crossed, she was reminded of a younger Royce. Even though he was only a year older, he had the air of a protector. Whenever she would sneak out with friends past curfew, he would stand there similarly, asking, "Have you learned your lesson?"

Slowly, she approached him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and sobbed, "I know I was wrong. Please forgive me."

Forgive me, brother.

Johan's face softened, but as his hand touched her forehead, he frowned and scooped her up. "Why didn’t you knock if you were sick? Just sitting there like a fool!" Isabel buried her face in his chest, clutching his shirt.

That day, Johan was unusually gentle, even cooking a comforting stew for her. Their arguments always ended with Isabel conceding. She knew he wasn't really trying to kick her out—he just wanted her to admit she was wrong.

As she was about to speak, her eyes landed on the coffee table. "Where's the bracelet I left there?"

"What bracelet?"

"The one I've always worn," she gestured nervously. "I left it on the table before leaving. Where is it?"

The bracelet was a gift from Royce for her eighteenth birthday. That year, a fortune teller had said she was in harm's way, and Royce had given her the bracelet for protection. She had worn it ever since. That morning, it had broken, so she’d left it at home, planning to buy a new string that week to mend it. But now, the table was empty.

"Oh, that," Persephone smiled, her red lips curving. "Johan had me tidy up. It looked so old and worn, I thought it was trash and threw it out. It's probably in the garbage truck by now."

Without a word, Isabel dashed outside. It was pouring rain. Without an umbrella, she ignored the filth, searching the garbage bins. No. No. The thin, worn bracelet was nowhere to be found.

Her vision blurred, and she wiped her face, unsure if it was rain or tears. It felt as if a hole had opened in her chest, leaving her gasping for air that wouldn't come.

That bracelet was the only thing Royce had left her, the last connection she had with him. She could still remember how serious he’d been when fastening it on her wrist, despite not believing in such things, saying, "May God bless our Isabel, always safe and healthy."

Now it was gone. Even this last bit of nostalgia seemed denied by fate.

"Are you crazy?!"

Her wrist was suddenly seized, and a black umbrella appeared above her head. Johan, gritting his teeth, said, "It's just a bracelet. Is it that important?!"

Turning to face him, for the first time, Isabel found the man she’d loved for so long repulsive. Without hesitation, she slapped him.

Johan's head turned, eyes wide in shock. In their three years together, she had never raised a hand to him, nor spoken harshly. He stood stunned, unmoving for a long moment.

The umbrella fell to the ground, scattering droplets. A car passed by, headlights catching Johan’s eyes, and a cold light flashed across them. His smile was strained, yet his eyes held no mirth. He reached for her, and she thought he would hit back, but instead, he grabbed her chin so tightly it felt like it might break.

"You've got some nerve, Isabel. You're the first to slap me." He wiped his lip with his thumb. "Who the hell gave you that bracelet? Is it that important to you?!"

Facing him blankly, she replied, "My first love."

Johan's pupils constricted sharply!

Without another word, Isabel shoved him away and walked off.