Chapter 2 You Are Ugly
Just then, her phone buzzed with some news notification that caught her attention.
#Breaking News: Turtle Mountain Earthquake Survivors Reunited After 18 Years - Countless Orphans Never Gave Up Hope!
#Turtle Mountain Earthquake Survivors: Parents Search 18 Years for Lost Children!
#Years of Waiting and Worry: A Mother Reunited with Her Child!
The Turtle Mountain earthquake? Eighteen years ago! Isabella's eyes widened as the pieces clicked into place. She was exactly eighteen years old.
From Julia's cruel words, she'd been told she was some prostitute's bastard child, but they'd never mentioned specific names—perhaps it was all lies.
If she hadn't been adopted from an orphanage, then they must have bought her from someone else.
Could she have been one of those earthquake orphans, sold off because of her looks? It was entirely possible.
Isabella pocketed her phone. Whether she found her mentor or not, she'd always have Cascadia.
But if she didn't search for her birth parents now, she might never get another chance. If she discovered they'd sold her themselves, then Cybernova would hold no ties for her anymore. She'd dedicate her life to serving her mentor until death claimed them both.
She memorized the contact information from the news report and dialed without hesitation.
The Thornton Villa
"Fantastic! That bitch Isabella is finally dead! Tammy, clear out that second-floor room immediately—I need it for my handbag collection!" Stella's voice rang with triumphant malice.
"Yes, Miss Stella Thornton! I'll take care of Miss Isabella Thornton right away." Tammy Campbell replied nervously.
"Idiot! Listen carefully—there's only one heir in this house now, and that's me! If I ever hear you refer to that bitch Isabella as a Thornton again, you'll be thrown out of the Thornton family! Not only that, I'll make sure you never find work anywhere in Eltheron!" Stella's voice dripped with venom.
"I'm... I'm sorry, Miss Thornton! I'll remember," Tammy stammered.
"That's more like it!" Stella finally felt free to drop her act, reveling in her newfound power.
For years, her parents had bought everything in duplicate to maintain the twin charade—she'd always hated sharing anything with anyone.
Isabella should have died long ago!
Stella ripped the bedding from Isabella's bed and hurled it to the floor, stomping on it viciously. She didn't notice the thin black line creeping up her wrist toward her elbow, then disappearing beneath her skin like a serpent finding its lair.
Stella rubbed her nose, shivering for no reason. 'Figures that bitch's room would be cursed,' she thought.
The Tudor Manor
"Father! You have to see this! She looks exactly like Mother!" Brandon Tudor shot to his feet, pointing at Isabella's image on the television screen, his voice cracking with emotion.
His excitement was understandable. After losing her newborn daughter eighteen years ago, his mother had been consumed by guilt, weeping daily until she'd built herself a prison of penance.
She'd locked herself away, emerging only for prayers that grew fainter each year. Brandon had begged her countless times to leave her self-imposed cell, but she'd refused every plea.
If the girl on television truly was his sister, perhaps Mother would finally find peace.
Raymond Tudor exclaimed, "Don't just stand there gaping! Make the call!"
He stood up too, staring at Isabella on the TV, unable to look away.
He and his wife had been childhood sweethearts, deeply in love. After their marriage, they'd welcomed their son Brandon, nicknamed "Sunny."
They'd planned to enjoy a few years together before having another child, but their daughter—nicknamed "Bunny"—had arrived unexpectedly, completing their perfect family.
They'd been so blissfully happy they hadn't even chosen a proper name for her yet. Then came that terrible night when the Tudor Manor caught fire. In their panic, they'd discovered the nursery empty—their baby had vanished without a trace.
Raymond's wife Gloria Stewart had accused his mother, Yvette Lancaster, of orchestrating the disappearance out of spite for having a granddaughter.
Raymond had vehemently defended his mother, and the accusation had shattered their marriage. Only their son Brandon and Raymond's sworn oath to find their daughter had kept Gloria from filing for divorce. Instead, she'd built herself a hermitage in the mountains behind the manor, living like a penitent monk.
For eighteen years, Raymond had never stopped searching—advertisements, flyers, television appeals, every method imaginable. He'd never imagined he'd see a girl who looked so much like his wife on a random news program.
She said her name was Isabella. She was eighteen years old. And there, on her left earlobe, was the telltale mark—not a birthmark, but the ceremonial piercing every Tudor child received at birth, branded with a heated needle. It was their ancestors' method of identification, and Raymond had never believed it would actually prove useful.
He didn't even wait for DNA confirmation before rushing to the television station with Brandon in tow.
Eltheron Television Station
"Isabella, have you completely lost your mind? What do you mean you're not part of the Thornton family? You've been my sister for eighteen years! We're twins! How can you not recognize me anymore? Even if you've forgotten me, surely you remember Mother!" Stella dabbed at her dry eyes with theatrical precision, glancing around at the murmuring crowd.
If she hadn't seen the morning reunion show, Stella never would have believed Isabella had survived the fall. That bitch had nine lives.
Originally, she'd planned to ignore Isabella entirely, but her father had insisted they retrieve her.
After eighteen years as a Thornton daughter, Isabella's failure to return home after the cliff incident meant she'd figured something out. The Thorntons couldn't afford to leave such dangerous loose ends wandering free.
If Isabella started spreading rumors, their carefully constructed reputation as Eltheron's newest elite family would crumble.
Gareth refused to let some adopted foundling destroy the Thornton legacy. So he'd forced Julia to drag Stella to the studio at dawn to bring Isabella home.
What happened to Isabella after that would be a private family matter. She could die, but not while running loose in public.
"Let go of me! Are you really going to put on this pathetic performance on live television, Stella? Don't you find it revolting?" Isabella whispered venomously in Stella's ear.
Stella's blood ran cold.
Did Isabella actually know something? How was that possible?
Their family were all accomplished actors—Julia had been Cybernova's most celebrated stage performer, after all. Acting ran in their blood.
Had that country bumpkin maid sold them out for Isabella's money? Damn her! She'd always suspected that quiet woman was trouble. She'd deal with that treacherous servant later.
Stella's expression shifted like quicksilver, and Isabella laughed coldly.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're like a chameleon? I used to wonder—if we're really twins and I'm tall and beautiful with thick hair, how are you barely five feet tall even in platform shoes? And I can actually see your bald spots!" Isabella's voice dripped with mock concern.
"Your mother always said we were fraternal twins, so naturally one would look like Father and one like Mother. Now I see that only you inherited those unfortunate genes. Thank God I'm not actually related to them," she added.
"How dare you call me ugly!" Stella exploded like a cat with its tail stepped on, her carefully maintained facade shattering instantly.
She could play along with Isabella's games, but her appearance and height were sacred territory. This was exactly why she'd hated Isabella for years—standing next to her made Stella look like a servant. Even her suitors only paid attention to her because of Isabella's beauty.
Seeing Isabella's mocking smile and hearing her taunts, Stella lost all control and lunged forward, claws extended toward Isabella's face.
