Chereads / Eunoia - Between Feuds as a Fake Heiress / Chapter 23 - Please, Let It Be A Bad Dream

Chapter 23 - Please, Let It Be A Bad Dream

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Isabelle taps her finger repeatedly on the table, piercing her thoughts together. One month of following a cycle, not caring much for what happens after. A public appearance by day and being treated as a vegetable by night, courtesy of her costly decision.

She nibbles on her fingernail.

Whatever he did to her back then, she'd rather not know. His empty, transparent lies have no weight. It's a risky decision to try and get on his good side now.

Isabelle picks at the skin on her lips, eager to feel the soft sting. Certain death and being displayed, yet again, in an outfit she doesn't like sounds terrible.

The day is as bland as the office, gloomy gray and downright boring. Not much going on aside the sound of people working, minus Isabelle. She just wanted an excuse to get out, she lets Logan do all her paperwork.

She reclines on her chair, spinning around like a child.

The man who tried to attack her the other day shoots her a glare. From across the room, it merely looks like he's squinting. Just to spite him, she flashes the finger and flips her hair.

What's he going to do, come over and fight? She giggles to herself.

Isabelle sighs. She still recalls the fight clearly and her new assistant got injured because of her. She slips off her high heel and makes a mental calculation.

"Don't even think about it." Logan taps the back of her head with a folder.

"You're no fun." She pouts. Isabelle stretches her arms, stacking the papers he dropped off on her desk. "I'm going to the break room."

"Oh, get me a maple bar." Logan rips open a pack of salted peanuts, Isabelle swipes some and dashes off.

The smell of cleaning agent and air conditioning makes her shiver. Isabelle rubs her arms as she passes the long, spotless corridor.

What is this, a repeat of her highschool years where she couldn't move without permission? She rolls her eyes at the thought.

A janitor is cleaning up a trash bin that's been tipped over, all sorts of waste on the floor. Crushed paper cups, shredded paper and candy wrappers. Oh. Without a second thought, she picks up some trash. She empties out the brown, murky water in the mop and fills it up for him.

The cameras catching her doing this don't matter to her. Seeing the elderly man struggle and have so many people pass by, ultimately ignoring him, is simple unacceptable.

"Thank you, young lady." The elderly staff expresses his gratitude with a smile.

"You're welcome, sir." She smiles in return and walks off, the sound of her heels echoing off the walls.

She pops into the empty break room and helps herself to a pack of brownies. The label had Santiago's full name but whatever, he wouldn't notice. Probably. Isabelle grabs a few snacks for her trip back.

If Isabelle didn't witness Santiago killing people the other day, she wouldn't think this office is different than the others. It's as comfortable and cozy as an airport lounge.

Isabelle passes by the ill-tempered man on purpose, accidentally hitting his board with her foot. She pulls down his display shelf as she makes a turn, not giving it a second glance. The glass shelf shatters onto the floor, earning gasps and whispers among other employees.

She smiles at everyone and observes Logan from the corner of her eyes, keeping as quiet as possible. Without warning, she drops a paper ball above him and he nearly jumps out of his chair. He taps her shoulder with a book as she snickers, which evolves into laughter as tears spill out of her eyes.

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After carrying a box of files inside Santiago's private office, she kicks off her shoes and reclines. Another day, another stack of papers. Maybe destroying the power supply would give herself and everyone a one day vacation. Sounds like a stupid plan to do alone. Now, where should she begin?

Isabelle rests on the soft couch, covered in a fabric that she can't pronounce properly. If this would continue, she'd start to like the luxury and expensive lifestyle, almost forgetting she got kidnapped. He could easily hold a whole conference here and still have plenty of room to spare.

Leather shelves and expensive, glittering decorations everywhere. Books and other files are merely sitting there, gathering dust. She walks around and a portrait of a single red flower in a vase catches her attention.

Tacky.

The cold floor on her bare, pale feet bring a strange feeling. Her heart squeezes in a way that reminds her of grief, but it's a light feeling.

Surely, he doesn't need this much space. The other employees would, with the truckload of work they drown in on a daily basis.

Forget it, more space for her to doze off in.

Isabelle makes herself comfortable, loosening the buttons and zippers on her clothes. She lets out a sigh of relief and takes a deep breath. A knock on the door pulls her out of a dream. She groans, half-expecting him. Isabelle covers herself with a pillow, reclining in the couch.

"Isabelle?"

Upon seeing a pair of brown eyes, she pauses. Well, this is awkward. Isabelle sits cross legged, hiding the open zipper from sight.

Rosa Valdez, Santiago's aunt. The young, fashionable one among her in-laws. Her reasons for approaching Isabelle aren't known yet, but she knows better. Once Isabelle is no longer an heiress, she'd be a nobody to this family. She has to wait until then.

How did she know where to find her?

"Miss Rosa?" She forces a smile.

"Perfect. Are you available? I'd like to have brunch together."

Ah, yes, because she dearly missed the empty conversations about meaningless day to day activities with other people.

"Come, I've prepared a private room for us."

Just the two of them? She follows, making small talk as Rosa carefully avoids answering her questions.

Isabelle digs into the steaming carbonara with French toast and fizzy pop. The taste of cream and cheese with thick noodles topped with bits of crunchy bacon. The sauce is perfect, a perfect pair with toasted bread.

Rosa has a different meal entirely, crab croquettes and fried rice with braised pork.

Simply can't go wrong with the classics. The refreshing taste of a carbonated drink brings a smile to her face.

"I'm glad you enjoy it. You have the same taste as your mother." She said, wiping her mouth.

Her lipstick didn't even come off. What brand is that?

Isabelle slurps her pasta noodles without a care in the world. Their chef deserves praise! Rosa offers her a table napkin and Isabelle wipes her arm, continuing to eat sloppy on purpose.

"You're friends?" Isabelle asked. A waitress comes in and briefly clears the table.

"I suppose you could say that. We have, history, with one another. But that's a story for another time," Rosa sighed, furrowing her eyebrows.

"The friends with benefits kind?" Isabelle blurts. Rosa laughs, a practiced poise.

The kind of history kept away in a diary? Or in files with a red label that said 'confidential'?

Isabelle's imagination doesn't sit still and runs wild, no direction in mind. The servant serves them a small bowl of ice cream with slices of banana drizzled in chocolate syrup. Isabelle gets a generous scoop as she listens to Rosa.

"My dear son is in prison. I need your assistance to break him out." Rosa pats her eyes with a napkin as she glances at the wall clock.

Isabelle narrows her eyes.

The ice cream in her mouth doesn't taste as sweet anymore. Not another favor. If she'd agree and it works out, Santiago may do more than lock her up and put her to sleep with a needle.

She may not put much effort into living like this, but Isabelle would rather not die because of him.

Not directly, anyway.

They could be trying to test her loyalty, if she could call it that. She has no reason to follow on with this preposterous display of wealth and power aside keeping herself alive.

"Rest assured, I am merely a Valdez in name. My husband and I have no interest in the fight for power." She explained.

A terrible actress. Lying through her teeth, right in front of her. The glint in her eyes do not match the smile on her lips at all.

"Why me?" Isabelle puts down her spoon. The treat melts, water droplets roll down her bowl and onto the table cloth. Rosa steepled her hands with a smile.

"You see, you're rather special. My nephew has become smitten over you so quickly, you're the perfect candidate."

The food in her mouth becomes hard to swallow.

Great. Another thing to look out for.

With the sound of footsteps outside the door, the answer is clear. Refusing would mean death, because that's the kind of people they are.

"I'll need to think about this."

"You're in no position to do so."

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She has no idea how to please them. Their son however, proves to be an exception. Once, as she sifts flour, she sneezed without and he enjoyed it. Much like a young child enjoying their puppy making dumb decisions and just watching them from afar.

The music in the background as dancers take the stage don't register. Dazzling champagne and flowery greetings turn into a blur.

Embarrassing as hell.

But his laughter sounds nice, despite her fear for him. On second thought, no. She shouldn't like someone and be afraid of them. Isabelle scratches her nose, lost in thought.

The very people she ate dinner with would choke her if ordered to. No hesitation, because weakness is carved out the moment it shows.

The scars on his hand and the missing finger he had are creepy. She looks away, feeling his hand on her hip. The only chance she has is getting on his good side.

If she can swoon him, maybe they'd let her live. Too bad, it's simply not happening. Santiago has no romantic interest in women.

Not that she actually liked him. But his behavior did not come across as normal, he acts too different in front of a crowd and at the house.

Could he be a sociopath?

She twirls her pearl necklace in-between her fingers. The sight of him in a suit reminds her of Tristan. She misses her bestfriend dearly, even his stupid flirty jokes.

Did any of them even notice her absence?

Isabelle could be fighting for her life here and they'd be too busy watching a tv show. Tonight, she's ordered to wear a thin yet simple gown in a deep royal blue. She prefers red, but whatever. Isabelle wears it with pride to mask her fear.

She lifts her chin and and looks into Santiago's eyes, unable to speak.

If she ran away, would he want to follow? Or would the threat of family keep him here?

Isabelle follows his lead despite the numb feeling in her legs. She takes a sharp intake of breath as her head spins and he holds her upright.

Ugh, why'd he have to have such nice arms? It'd be easier to hate him if he was ugly.

"What's wrong?" He whispered into her ear. She groans and furrows her eyebrows.

"I.. don't feel too well." Isabelle confessed.

This is bound to happen, living off of fluids for a month.

For some reason, she can no longer keep down whatever food she ate here. The sudden meal she had with Rosa earlier upset her system. Constant check ups and injections made her lose her fear of needles and doctors in general.

He keeps his hand on her hip, supporting her. They reach the stairs and he scoops her up in his arms.

"Slowly, now."

She covers her chest and holds her breath. Isabelle lip quivers as her eyes sting, a shard of ice trickles into her senses.

It would've been better to have fainted in front of everyone.

"Don't be scared of me, Isabelle. I'm quite peaceful."

He turns around and grabs a glass of water. Isabelle's anxiety about him grew. What if he mixed that with something?

"Let's go outside." He places the bottle in her hands. She opens it and takes a quick whiff. Nothing odd. Water is tasteless, unless she remembered wrong.

"What?" Isabelle nearly sputters. It was that easy? She'd been trying to sneak out for days. She wonders if this is his way of being nice. Santiago stands in front of a wardrobe.

"I think it'll make you feel better." He takes off his blazer and unbuttons his collar. The material of his shirt is thin and she can see the outline of ink on his body. She turns around, squinting her eyes shut.

"I'm sorry." She said.

"I'm not following." He taps her shoulder.

Santiago now wears a plain white tee. If only he had a different hairstyle, he'd resemble Aaron somehow.

Is she finally losing it? She sees her friends in almost everything, now.

"For what they did to you. You didn't.. you," She sobbed, holding his hand. She can see the faint traces of scars under the ink on his arms. His missing finger certainly isn't an accident.

He didn't deserve any of that.

"Please, don't cry for me. I'm not worthy of your tears."

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The reflection of the pool is beautiful. She pulls the plush toy to her closer to her, burying her face in it's fur. It's so big and fluffy she could smother her face with it.

He may be kind of scary, but he isn't all bad.

"Thank you." She rubs her face again with the toy. Isabelle would cherish this for the rest of her days and never tell the story behind it. If she did, it wouldn't be as special anymore. A memory only she and Santiago shared with one another.

How cute! Take that, Tristan.

"You don't have to thank me, Isabelle." He leans on the door. That sad, hollow smile reminds her of her mother.

"But you got me this big guy and good food."

He nods. She places a picture in his hand, one of those instant, polaroid ones. Sure, the lighting looks strange but she likes it.

"Consider this the start of a wonderful friendship, be honored. You look so cute with the filter! Could we hang out like this again?"

"Maybe."

"Want to cuddle?" She raises her arms for a hug, pleading with the biggest puppy dog eyes she can muster. He snorts and chuckles, melting into her arms. Isabelle strokes his head, humming a soft melody. Santiago closes his eyes, allowing himself to be held.

He would've made a great friend. If only he wasn't in illegal business and had blood on his hands, perhaps things could be different.

Maybe.

Being this close, she can appreciate every single detail on his face. The faint blemish on his nose, the fullness of his eyelashes and the way his chest rises and falls with each breath. Isabelle hadn't noticed earlier, but he smelled of faint citrus.

"You remind me of my brother, somehow. I miss him," She began. Santiago remains silent. "His name is Jake. He used to be part of a gang, but then he found the love of his life and I... messed it up. I don't even know where he is, now."

"I'm sorry." He said.

Even compared to her parents, Jake is quite eccentric. With such an intimidating style and face, anyone would think he's out to get them. Jake is actually quite a softie, with a soft spot for animals. Be it a reptile or a dog, he found them too cute to harm, even when they attacked him. He'd wave off a puffy arm from a bite as if it was nothing.

"Isabelle, my chest feels warm." Santiago places a hand on his chest. He looks at her with wide eyes.

"Oh? Are you sick?" She places her hand on his forehead. His temperature is no different than hers. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

"It happens whenever I see you." He said without missing a beat and she laughs, patting his head.

How can he say that with a straight face? Goodness.

"That means you like me!" She teases and lightly taps his nose. Isabelle mentally did a mini victory dance. For once, she did a plan right.

"Don't be ridiculous." He looks away. He clearly did not believe her. Isabelle knows it all too well, he isn't the first anyway. She channels her inner arrogant, hot-headed blonde self and lets go.

"I don't blame you, I'm just that beautiful. Who could possibly resist?" Isabelle grins. Santiago scoffs and covers his mouth.

After a nice, warm bath she prepares for sleep. He's at the balcony, staring at the moon. She slips on a silk nightgown and yawns, sliding into her bed.

"Goodnight, Isabelle."

"Wait." She called. He stops in his tracks, staring at her with a silent question on his face.

"Can you.. stay until I fall asleep?" She asked and the blood rushes to her head. Santiago grabs a stool and sits beside her. She covers her face with the blanket. Gosh, he didn't have to stare at her like that.

Maybe if she pretended to sleep, he'd go away?

Isabelle sneaks a glance behind the blanket, and he is still staring. She turns her back. He might be staring at her, but whatever. Isabelle would fall asleep eventually.

"You said you couldn't sleep without a stuffed toy. Here." Santiago hands her the toy from earlier. She holds it close to her chest.

He remembered? She smiles and closes her eyes.

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The smell of the crisp, morning breeze and old books made her feel at home. The Valdez had their own library, full of different books. From children's stories to medical encyclopedias, it's simply a sight to behold. Isabelle spends most of her time here, trying to distract herself.

Did that Peter guy not make it somehow, and he has no clue?

Isabelle couldn't even contact her parents. She wonders if they merely left her here, not wanting to deal with the Valdez to save their only daughter.

Perhaps they decided to get divorced first. The childhood memories of her parents seems like a lie, now. If she were to return, her parents wouldn't be together. A tear slipped out of her eye.

How long had her mother put up with his infidelity?

She wipes her eyes and stifles a sob. The door creaks open and she hurriedly turns around and shoves the book back onto the shelf.

"Isabelle? Are you present?" He called. There's only one guy who'd call for her like that, she sighed.

Just as she was getting to the good part, too.

"Yes?" She stands in the middle. The maids stare at the two with a smile.

They'd be gossiping again, for sure.

"Please, join me for breakfast. We could talk more in the greenhouse."

She'd never been inside one before, but it's refreshing. She walks beside him and slips her hand into his, Isabelle hums a soft tune. Upon entry, she can only stare in awe.

They have such an exotic collection, with plants that are twice her size. One huge leaf had pink spots on it, while another had white and yellow.

They're beautiful.

It goes without saying that the flowers are nice, too. Even the weird one with purple petals. He hands her a folded sheet of paper. An autopsy report on her brother, Jake Cross.

Well isn't that swell.

"The killer's weapon is custom made. Does that crest seem familiar?" Santiago takes a small bite out of his meal. Isabelle nods, taking a sip of her coffee as she read.

A fake report is one thing, but falsifying evidence? How stupid did he think she is?

She set her cup down, hangs her head and forces a breath out. Isabelle buries her face in her hands. God, kindly give her the strength not to strangle the man in front of her. Santiago stands from his chair.

"Isabelle?"

"You're testing my patience. Do you think I wouldn't recognize a fake report? The information isn't consistent and the English is terrible! I can't believe you." She rips the paper and storms out, leaving him alone.

It was the wrong decision to pick him, out of anyone in the household.

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The house is divided and Rosa, as kind as she may be, knows nothing about her nephew. He's a monster created by them and he's slipping out of their control.

The tea served has a fragrant, fruity aroma. With expectant eyes, Rosa holds out a pen. The pressure is insane. One sound and she'd crumble. She confessed to everything and one sobbing, heaping mess later, she's being held. Rosa pats her head, humming a tune.

Just like mother would.

"I'm not, not a child." Isabelle said in-between sobs. She's hushed in return and once she stops hiccupping, Rosa starts the conversation.

"I understand. You don't need to do anything, Isabelle dear."

"Thank you."

Rosa laughs. They wrap up their brunch and exchange a bit of gossip in the office, giggling to themselves. The door swings open, propped open with a gun. Rosa grabs Isabelle's wrist and stands in front of her.

The Valdez couple walk in with bright, sweet smiles on their faces.

Sofia pulls out a pistol and shoots her in-law in the chest. Her husband makes a face as Rosa bleeds out onto the carpet, trying to speak as she coughs up blood. Isabelle trembles, on the verge of vomiting what she just ate. She holds her hand, unable to speak. The sound of gunfire and a shriek catch her attention.

Santiago is ballistic, wailing as he's trying to attack his own parents, held back by the guards. The look in his eyes towards them sends shivers down her spine.

"Oh you'll get over it dear, as you always do. Come now, love." Sofia pats her sons head and walks off, talking to her husband about her shopping ideas.

As if she didn't just shoot someone.

Isabelle tears off her blazer, and pressed it on the wound. A pathetic attempt to stop the bleeding, but what else? The guards keep the door shut with Santiago on the other side, engaging in a fight.

"Aunt Rosa!" Santiago cries, slamming the door open.

She waves weakly to her nephew and her hand goes limp. The life leave her eyes as he holds her hand. The helplessness and fury swirling in her chest brought her to tears.

They took someone's life without a second thought.

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Days pass by and the memory replays in her head, unable to focus on anything else.

The couple fawn over her and she doesn't protest, tired of it all. She earns their favor, painstakingly slow. The photo of when she sneaked out with him lies in her drawer.

Would she ever smile like that again?

The light in her eyes is being eaten away by the bubbling fury. If the results are good, the methods used are justifiable.

Sofia puts on an expensive set of jewelry, a ruby necklace with earrings and bracelets. She bought one for herself and Isabelle as well, gushing to how elegant they looked.

Enough.

With help from their son, she makes a plan. She tosses some leaves taken from the Oleander in the greenhouse. As Isabelle waited for the tea to take effect, she made an excuse to leave the room.

The power shuts off, leaving the mansion in a deep darkness. With the staff and couple feeling sickly and sluggish, she makes a run for it. Isabelle's soft, pale feet against the harsh hardwood floor brought an adrenaline rush. With the blood pumping in her veins, she rips off as much decoration she could as she runs. Strange, overly expensive paintings are no exception. The hardwood flooring ends at the main door.

Where is he?

Isabelle barges into his room, but there's no sign of him. She jumps onto the cobblestone, the feeling tickles her skin. Without a thought, she sprints towards the gates. A red car pulls up and she stares at the driver.

"Logan?" She said.

"Get in!"

Isabelle looks at her hands and takes one last look at the mansion. She couldn't leave without him, she made a promise.

What about Santiago?

"Change of plan, get in!"

She jumps in and watches the mansion disappear from sight in the side mirror. Isabelle feels her eyes droop as her body gives in to the exhaustion.

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