(Lina)
I tossed the last of her clothes into a pile, smirking at the sight. Silk gowns, delicate lace, and pastel colors—none of it was me. I was done pretending to be Princess Isabella, dressing up like some fragile, obedient little doll. If I was stuck here in her life, I was going to live it my way.
I stepped back, hands on my hips, admiring the closet now filled with clothes I chose—leather jackets, fitted trousers, and boots that made me feel like myself again. I grabbed one of the discarded dresses, a light pink monstrosity, and tossed it into the trash bin.
Just as I was about to clear out the last bit of the old Isabella, the door creaked open behind me. I turned, momentarily forgetting that Nicholas was supposed to be here, pretending to be the loving husband.
He stood in the doorway, eyes sweeping over the room before they landed on me. A look of surprise crossed his face, but he quickly covered it with that usual arrogant smirk.
"Are you redecorating, darling?" He drawled, stepping further into the room as if he owned the place—which, technically, he did.
"Something like that," I said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm.
He shrugged, walking over to the wardrobe and pulling out a towel. "I'm going to take a shower," He said flatly, already unbuttoning his shirt, like this was just another normal day.
For a second, I was caught off guard. He started stripping without a second thought as if we were an actual married couple who shared this room. The sight of his bare chest would have rattled the old Isabella, made her blush and scurry off, but I wasn't her.
I shook it off, turning back to the pile of clothes. "You know, you don't have to pretend when it's just us," I muttered, throwing another dress onto the trash heap.
Nicholas froze mid-button, glancing over his shoulder at me. "What did you just say?"
"You heard me. The whole 'happy couple' act? It's for everyone else's benefit, not mine. So, spare me the routine," I shot back, arms crossed.
He turned fully now, his face hardening. "And what exactly are you trying to say, Isabella?"
"I'm saying," I began, meeting his stare and not looking away. "That I don't give a damn about this farce. We don't have to pretend behind closed doors. I'll sleep in here, and you sleep wherever the hell you want. Just stay out of my way."
The tension in the room shifted, thickening as his eyes darkened. "You think you can talk to me like that?" His voice dropped, low and dangerous. "I'm still your husband."
"You're nothing to me, Nicholas. And you sure as hell aren't going to control me." My voice was steady, even as I could see the anger building in him.
For a moment, he just stood there, frozen, as if he couldn't quite process what I'd said. Then, slowly, his jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening. "You think you can talk to me like that?" He growled, stepping closer, his voice dripping with venom. "You think you're untouchable because you're playing princess?"
I didn't flinch, didn't back down. I stood my ground, meeting his gaze with the kind of steel that had been hardened through years of training and war, not through palace politics and games. "No," I said, calmly. "I think I'm untouchable because I know how to defend myself."
Nicholas's lip curled in a sneer, and before I could register his movement, he lunged at me, hand raised like he was going to strike me across the face. But I was faster.
I stepped to the side, grabbing his wrist and twisting it behind his back with a swift, practiced motion. His body jerked, stumbling forward as I held him there, his arm pinned at an awkward angle. He gasped, more out of shock than pain, trying to free himself, but my grip was strong.
"What the hell—?" He spat, his breath ragged, trying to yank his arm free. But he couldn't.
I leaned in close, whispering in his ear. "Try that again, and you'll find out just how much I'm capable of."
For a moment, neither of us moved, the tension crackling between us. I could feel his muscles tensing and could hear the shallow breaths he took as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened. He wasn't used to this.
He wasn't used to anyone standing up to him, let alone overpowering him. I let him go, pushing him forward slightly as I released my hold on his arm. He stumbled but caught himself, turning to face me, eyes wide with disbelief.
"You…" He glared at me, rubbing his wrist, his face a mix of anger and confusion. "You're different."
"No, I'm not," I said, crossing my arms over my chest, unbothered by his glare. "I'm Isabella Henry, princess of nothing and no one's puppet."
He blinked, his expression wavering between fury and disbelief. "You're not the same woman I married."
I gave a cold, humorless laugh. "You didn't marry me, Nicholas. You married a ghost. You married the idea of a princess, someone soft and easy to manipulate. But that's not who I am."
He clenched his jaw, stepping closer. "You're forgetting your place."
I shook my head. "No, I think you've forgotten mine. You may be a prince, but you don't control me. Not here. Not anywhere."
For the first time since I met Nicholas, I saw something shift behind his eyes—doubt, maybe even fear. He was used to commanding, used to being the one in control. This was a shift he hadn't anticipated, and it rattled him. But as quickly as it came, it vanished, replaced by that familiar sneer.
"This isn't over," He hissed, backing toward the door. "You'll regret this."
I didn't move as he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The tension that had filled the space dissipated, leaving only the quiet aftermath of what had just happened. My heart was still racing, but I felt a strange calm settle over me.
This was my life now. And I was done playing by anyone else's rules.
I turned back to the closet, surveying the pile of clothes I'd thrown out. With one final push, I tossed the last of the old Isabella's things into the trash, dusting my hands off.
I wasn't a princess trapped in a tower anymore.
I was something far more dangerous. And Nicholas had no idea what he'd just unleashed.