The Heiress He Drove Away: His Regret Came Too Late

Isabella clenched her fists.

She wanted so badly to rush forward and smash that smug face into the floor.

But when she remembered the seven days and nights in the basement, the abortion medicine, and the hair scattered across the floor, she loosened her fists and let the etiquette teacher strap the brace onto her body.

The belts were pulled painfully tight. The wooden rods dug into her spine and arms, and every breath brought a cutting ache.

Emily walked up to her. After admiring her for two seconds as if looking at a dead object, she lowered her voice.

"Bitch, Daniel is mine. If you fight me again, next time it won't be as simple as confinement and shaving your head."

Isabella's gaze rested on the empty space ahead. Her pupils were unfocused, as if her soul had already left this body.

"I don't want him anymore. Let me go. You can be the bride."

The moment the words left her mouth, her eyes stung.

A month ago, she had still thought she would never let go of Daniel's hand in this life.

But now, she had said it herself—she no longer wanted him.

In that instant, she found it all unbearably absurd.

She had spent two years dragging Daniel back from death, turning him into a part of herself.

In the end, she did not even know when she had reached this point.

Had it begun when he shook off her hand at the proposal?

Or when he said the wedding would be hers, but the marriage certificate would be Emily's?

Or even earlier?

As early as the first time she saw him smiling at Emily through a restaurant window, had she already begun losing him?

The echo of her own words hummed inside her chest, shaking her whole body.

Emily, however, seemed to have heard the funniest joke in the world and laughed aloud.

"I was always Daniel's wife. Who needs you to give me anything?"

She took a step back, her eyes full of contempt.

"Don't tell me you think he keeps you because he loves you. Stop being naive. He keeps you because you're obedient enough, tolerant enough, so tolerant you don't make a sound even after your child was aborted. You're just a shield."

The word shield sawed back and forth across Isabella's heart like a dull blade.

She remembered the period right after Daniel returned to the Lawson family, when she could not sleep at night.

She had been afraid he would vanish again, afraid everything was a dream, afraid she would open her eyes and find herself back in that room without him.

He had noticed, held her, and said, "Isabella, don't be afraid. I'm here. I will never leave you again."

Leaning in his arms, she had thought he was still the same Daniel. He had not changed.

But now she knew.

He had changed.

Or more accurately, he had never changed at all.

He had only acted out the Daniel she wanted in front of her.

The real him could watch coldly as someone shaved her head clean.

The real him could order someone to brew abortion medicine for her in a voice as gentle as if he were saying good night.

From beginning to end, he had only been using her.

She had been too naive, mistaking the performance for truth and even dreaming of spending her whole life with him.

Without waiting for Isabella to answer, Emily said to the etiquette teacher, "Put a bowl on her head. Let her practice some grace. Otherwise, at tomorrow's wedding, people will think the Lawson family lets just anyone walk in."

The etiquette teacher brought a bowl of water and placed it on Isabella's head.

The bowl was not large, but with the weight of the brace, her whole body's center of gravity dragged downward.

Isabella bit her lower lip and walked forward one step at a time.

She could not tell whether tears had run into her mouth or whether she had bitten her lip until it bled.

She could not tell anymore.

She could not tell anything anymore.

She only knew that she hated Daniel, hated Emily, but most of all, hated herself.

She hated herself for throwing away her dignity for a man, for becoming a puddle of mud anyone could trample.

Emily stood to the side, her face darkening little by little.

She had brought in the etiquette teacher to humiliate Isabella, to make Daniel see how crude Isabella was.

But Isabella walked too steadily, so steadily she looked as if she had been born to stand above others and be admired.

Emily's eyes darkened. As Isabella passed her, she lightly hooked out a foot.

Isabella pitched forward. The porcelain bowl flew out and shattered on the floor.

Her palm landed without warning on the shards, and blood surged out at once.

Before she could recover from the pain, she heard Emily choke out, "Isabella, why did you push me?"

As soon as Emily finished, Daniel's voice sounded from the doorway.

"What are you doing?"