Chapter 3

The next morning, I dragged my suitcase down the stairs.

Each step felt impossibly heavy, like I was walking to my execution. I'd barely slept, my eyes puffy and swollen from crying, but I forced myself to keep my head high. I couldn't let them see me break.

Everyone was waiting in the living room.

Mom's eyes were already red-rimmed. The moment she saw me, tears spilled down her cheeks. "Bella, are you sure you won't reconsider?"

"Mom..." My voice cracked. "I have to do this."

Dad sighed and held out an envelope. "This is from the family. I know you want to be independent, but at least take some basic living expenses—"

"I don't want it." I cut him off, though panic clawed at my chest. "I told you. I'm doing this on my own."

Eleanor stood in the corner, watching me with an unreadable expression. She bit her lower lip gently before walking over. "Bella, you're very brave. Even though we just met, I'm going to miss you."

I managed a weak smile but said nothing. Somehow, her kindness made everything hurt worse.

"Bella."

Alex's voice came from the staircase.

He wore a black suit, his face ghostly pale. Dark circles shadowed his eyes—he looked even more exhausted than I felt. What almost happened last night burned between us like an open flame.

I couldn't meet his eyes.

"The car's waiting outside." His voice was carefully controlled, but I caught the tremor beneath. "I arranged for the driver to take you to the airport."

"No need. I called an Uber."

"Bella—"

"Alex," I interrupted, finally forcing myself to look at him. "We both need some space to think."

His eyes held the wounded look of a trapped animal, his fists clenched tight. After a long moment, he nodded. "Fine. Then... take care of yourself."

I pulled my suitcase toward the door, each step cutting deeper.

"Bella!" Mom rushed after me, pulling me into a crushing embrace. "No matter what happens, you'll always be our daughter. This will always be your home!"

My tears finally broke free. "Mom, I know... I know..."

I took one last look at the house I'd lived in for twenty-one years, then climbed into the car without looking back.

Through the rearview mirror, I watched Alex standing at the door, frozen, watching the car pull away. That look in his eyes shattered me, but I couldn't turn back.

I absolutely couldn't.

---

Ten hours later, Manhattan.

September sunlight streamed through the worn windows of Parsons School of Design, hitting my exhausted face. I stood at the door of a six-person dorm room, staring at the cramped space. The room was crammed with six bunk beds, and the air smelled of cheap shampoo and takeout.

This was the life I'd chosen.

"Here comes another one." A blonde roommate, Madison, looked up and gave my Burberry trench coat a once-over, her smile dripping with mockery. "Let me guess—which rich family are you from? Did Mommy and Daddy decide you needed to 'experience real life'?"

"Give me a break." Another roommate, Chloe, popped her head out from a lower bunk, eyes full of malice. "Spoiled princesses like you can't last a month here. You'll be crying your way back to your mansion soon enough."

"I'll prove you all wrong." My voice trembled, but held firm.

Madison rolled her eyes and went back to painting her nails.

I struggled to hoist my suitcase onto the only empty top bunk. It was heavy, and after several failed attempts, my arms burned. One of my nails broke, the pain bringing tears to my eyes. Back home, the staff handled everything.

I climbed onto the bunk and collapsed on the hard mattress.

My phone buzzed.

A message from Alex: "Did you arrive safely?"

I stared at the screen, my finger hovering over the keyboard. I wanted to respond but didn't know what to say. Last night's almost-kiss, the heat of his touch on my face, the look in his eyes that made my heart race out of control...

We're siblings, Bella. You can't think about this.

I typed two words: "I'm here."

A few seconds later, he replied: "Good."

That was it.

I tossed my phone aside. I'd thought leaving D.C. would make things easier, but the ache in my chest only intensified.

I missed him.

No. I couldn't.

I jerked upright and jumped down from the bunk. I needed to explore campus, familiarize myself with my surroundings, start my new life.

I couldn't let myself keep thinking about Alex.

Three days later, in jewelry design class.

"Today's assignment is free creation. Choose any theme you like," Professor Williams announced. "Remember, jewelry isn't just decoration—it's a vessel for emotion and meaning."

I stared down at my sketch—a bracelet inspired by the Declaration of Independence. The chain body used a Roman link design, each link engraved with iconic phrases from the Declaration. The pendant was a sapphire cut in the silhouette of the Statue of Liberty.

This was my cry for freedom.

"Oh wow, look at this!" Madison's voice cut through the room like a knife. "Isabella's designing political jewelry! Who do you think you are, Cartier's chief designer?"

Whispers and snickers erupted around me.

"Politics and jewelry?" A male student scoffed. "That's not innovative, it's just attention-seeking gimmickry."

"We all know you want to stand out," Madison interrupted me before I could speak, her tone dripping with contempt. "But design requires talent and experience, not wild fantasies."

Just as humiliation threatened to swallow me whole, Professor Williams approached and picked up my sketch, studying it carefully.

"This idea of integrating political and historical elements into modern jewelry design..." The professor spoke slowly, and the classroom fell silent. "It's highly unique and carries profound cultural significance."

He turned to address the class. "Isabella's design embodies jewelry as a cultural symbol. This is precisely the direction contemporary jewelry design should pursue."

I watched Madison's face drain of color, satisfaction flooding through me.

"Moreover," the professor continued, "this design presents significant technical challenges. It requires exceptional micro-engraving technique. Isabella, are you certain you can execute this?"

I stood up, forcing confidence into my voice. "I will complete it, Professor."

Though honestly, I wasn't sure. But I knew I had to try. This wasn't just an assignment—it was my chance to prove myself to the world.

Alex, are you watching? I can do this.

After class, I stared at the design, a wild idea taking root.

I couldn't stop at student assignments. I needed to create this piece, build my own brand, show the world my vision.

I pulled out my phone and started searching for studio rentals in New York.

It was time to make my move.