Chapter 6

Bella’s POV

The drive back to my hometown was quiet. Maximo kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting over mine. The familiar streets felt smaller than I remembered. They were gray and full of old memories I had tried hard to forget. Every corner reminded me of hunger, fear, and the day my father traded my life for cash.

When we pulled up to the small funeral home, my heart pounded against my ribs. I took a deep breath and stepped out into the chilly air. Maximo moved to my side right away. His tall frame felt like a wall between me and the rest of the world.

Inside, the scent of old flowers filled the room. My father stood near the plain wooden casket. He looked older, his face weathered by alcohol and bad decisions. He wore a rumpled jacket that reeked of cheap liquor and tobacco. The moment his eyes landed on me, he did not offer a hug. He did not ask how I was doing. His eyes just lit up with greed.

"Bella," he said, walking over with fast steps. "You finally made it. You look well. I knew that your scientist husband had money."

"Josh is not my husband anymore," I said, keeping my voice flat. "I came for Grandma."

My father scoffed and waved his hand in the air. "Forget about Josh for a moment. We have big things to talk about. The lawyer is waiting in the back room for the reading of the will. Your grandmother had land, Bella. She had property. Once the money comes through, I can clear my debts at the club. You can give me a small loan to get back on my feet too, right?"

He reached out to grab my arm, treating me like a bank account just like he used to. I shrank back, but before he could touch me, Maximo stepped between us.

Maximo towered over my father. His face was cold, and his gray eyes cut through the room like ice. He grabbed my father's wrist with a firm grip and pushed him back.

"Keep your hands off her," Maximo said. His voice was low, but it held a heavy warning. "You lost the right to touch her or ask her for anything the day you sold her."

My father stumbled back, his face turning red with anger and fear. He looked at Maximo’s expensive suit and sharp jawline, then swallowed hard. "Who are you? This is family business!"

"I am the man protecting her from you," Maximo replied coldly. "Now stand back."

My father muttered under his breath, but he did not dare step closer again.

A few minutes later, an elderly lawyer in a dark suit walked into the side room and signaled for us to sit down. My father rushed to the front seat, tapping his foot on the floor. He was practically drooling at the thought of the money. I sat next to Maximo, holding his hand tightly under the table.

The lawyer adjusted his glasses and opened a thick folder. "We are here for the last will and testament of Mrs. Evelyn Rose."

He read through the standard opening lines before getting straight to the point.

"To my son, Arthur Rose," the lawyer read aloud, looking at my father. "Because of your continuous drinking, gambling, and the unforgivable way you treated your own daughter, you shall receive nothing from my estate. Not one single dollar."

"What?" my father yelled, slamming his hands on the table as he stood up. "That is crazy! She was my mother! I am her only son!"

"Sit down," Maximo commanded without raising his voice. My father glared at him, but slowly sank back into his chair, breathing heavily.

The lawyer cleared his throat and continued reading. "To my beloved granddaughter, Bella. I leave everything I own. This includes my personal savings, the land, the old textile factory downtown, and the wooden storage trunk kept in my bedroom."

Tears blurred my vision. My father cursed under his breath, stood up, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He was gone, leaving only the sound of his angry footsteps fading down the hall. After the short burial service, Maximo took me to my grandmother's old house. The air inside was still and smelled of lavender and old paper. We walked into her bedroom, where a heavy oak trunk sat at the foot of her bed.

I knelt beside it, on the wooden floor. My hands shook as I unlocked the brass latch and lifted the heavy lid. Inside lay a neat stack of clothes made from bright, fine silk. They were handmade caftans, decorated with beautiful embroidery along the edges. My breath caught in my throat. I picked one up and pressed the soft fabric against my cheek.

These were the exact same caftans I used to receive in anonymous packages over the years. Every year on my birthday, even while I was stuck at the brothel, a parcel would arrive with no return address. Inside was always a bright, hand-stitched caftan. They were the only beautiful things I had owned during my darkest days.

Beneath the clothes, I found a small handwritten note in my grandmother’s shaky handwriting.

*My dear Bella,* the note read. *I always knew where you were, but your father kept me away from you. I could not rescue you by force, but I sent you these garments so you would remember that you are worthy of beautiful things. I leave you my textile factory. It is broken now, just like you might feel. But with time and love, it can be rebuilt. Stay strong, my sweet girl.*

I held the note against my chest and wept. Maximo knelt beside me, wrapping his long arms around my shoulders and pulling me close. He did not say anything. He just let me cry until there were no tears left.

I looked at the beautiful silk in my hands, then out the window toward the town where the old factory stood. My father had used me. Josh had tried to destroy me. But my grandmother had believed in me all along.

I wiped my face and looked at Maximo.

"I am going to fix that factory," I said, my voice steady for the first time in months. "I am going to bring it back to life."

I was done being a victim. I finally had a purpose, and I was going to fight for it.