His Wife, The Secret Forensic Genius

Isabella "Bella" Douglas POV:

"On your knees," Kane ordered, his voice echoing in the hollow silence of the living room.

I stood my ground. "I didn't do it."

Jameson's bodyguards seized my arms, forcing me to the cold marble floor. My protest was a useless whisper against the storm of their rage.

Blake returned from our father's study holding an old dog whip, a thick, braided leather tool of brutal discipline. The first lash tore through the skin on my back. A sharp, searing agony ripped a gasp from my throat. My white dress began to bloom crimson.

"Confess," Derrick demanded, his face a mask of cold fury.

"I didn't do it," I choked out, the words tasting like blood.

The whipping continued. Each strike was a fresh wave of fire, tearing through my skin, stealing my breath.

"You're a disgrace," Kane hissed, his face close to mine. "Poisoned by jealousy."

Maria ran into the room, her hands outstretched, pleading for them to stop. "Please, masters, she's your blood!"

Derrick didn't even look at her. He simply ordered her hauled from the room, her cries fading down the hall.

As the world began to fray at the edges, their words became a nightmarish chorus. "Cheap imitation." "Useless substitute."

They locked me in my room for three days. No food. No water. No medical care. The pain was a living entity-a constant, gnawing beast that fed on my flesh.

Through the walls, I could hear them. Doting on Haleigh. Laughing with her. Promising her the world. Every sound was a new lash to my soul, a fresh reminder that I was nothing.

On the third day, delirious with pain and thirst, I finally stumbled from my room. They were in the living room, planning a yacht trip for Haleigh. "To see the dolphins," she was saying, her voice bright and cheerful.

She saw me, her face instantly transforming into a mask of saccharine concern. She rushed to my side, grabbing my arm. "You have to come! It'll be a family day."

I tried to pull away, but Haleigh's eyes filled with tears. "Please," she whimpered to the men. "I forgive her for what she did. I just want my sister."

"Don't be ungrateful," Jameson snapped at me. "She's your sister. She's my wife. Show some respect."

They forced me onto the yacht. The salt in the air was agony on the open wounds covering my back.

Haleigh demanded a barbecue on deck. A sudden squall descended, the wind tipping the grill over, sending hot coals and skewers scattering across the teak.

Jameson and my brothers instantly formed a human shield around Haleigh, protecting her from the chaos. They didn't even look at me.

A burning coal landed on the hem of my dress. Flames erupted, engulfing my legs. I let out a raw, animal scream of pure agony.

They didn't hear me. They were too busy fussing over a single red mark on Haleigh's hand.

A young crewman threw himself over me, smothering the flames with his jacket and his own body, his actions a stark contrast to my family's complete indifference.

They never even looked back.