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She drew a careful breath.
“It started long before Isabeast came here. My mother was Princess Eliana Sofija Dravik of Eslovenya. Father abducted her and brought her to this compound. I was born here.”
Figures he would kidnap a fucking princess.
Ordinary evil had never been enough for men like Ciro.
“You’ve lived inside this place your entire life?”
“Yes.”
The answer came without drama, which somehow made it worse.
“When I was thirteen, Mother tried to escape with me. But the jeep went off a mountain road.” Isabella’s fingers tightened around her arms. “She died, and somehow I survived.”
“Damn,” I muttered. “I’m sorry.”
“Afterward, Father added more guards, tightened every rule, and started locking me in my bedroom at night.” She glanced toward the ceiling. “My room’s directly above us.”
A princess’s daughter locked in a pretty room where every scream rose through the floor. Ciro hadn’t only kept her prisoner. He’d built her entire life around the knowledge of what happened to people who defied him.
“Then Isabeast came,” she said.
She paused, but I waited instead of pushing her.
Real pain washed over her features—or one hell of a performance.
I hated that I could no longer trust myself to know the difference.
“We were close in age, and for a while, we were always together. She acted like she understood what I was going through. I trusted her with things I’d never told anyone—how much I hated my life here and how badly I wanted the chance to do the normal things girls our age got to do. Things she’d already done. Then she twisted everything I said into proof that I meant to escape and poisoned Father against me.”
“So he punished you and rewarded her.”
“Yes. Father wanted a daughter he could show the world. Educated. Polished. Obedient when it suited him and ruthless when he needed something done. Isabeast became that woman for him.”
It fit everything Nik had uncovered about Isabeast—the credentials, the legal access, and the city position that put her exactly where Ciro and Hayes needed her.
“He gave her his last name, let her use my identity, and sent her into the world as Isabella Delgado, all while no one outside these walls was allowed to know I existed.”
There was no self-pity in the answer. Just the story. One I still didn’t know whether to believe. Even so, I wanted her to be telling me the truth. Wanted Mouse to be exactly what she seemed.
“She didn’t only steal your name,” I said. “She stole your place in the world.”
“Yes.”
The thought turned my stomach.
“Whatever she did while pretending to be you is on her. Not you.”
Her arms loosened a fraction.
“I suppose. It doesn’t matter much when no one outside these walls even knows I’m alive.” She hesitated. “But thank you. For understanding at least part of it.”
I meant it. Isabeast’s crimes belonged to Isabeast, no matter whose name she’d used to commit them.
But Mouse’s story still left too much unanswered. Had she helped me because she was kind, because she needed a weapon, or because Ciro had given her another role in this fucked-up family game?
And it didn’t answer the most important question.
