She is just like her father

Isabella’s POV

My mom’s so-called boyfriend was in the middle of one of his tedious lectures again. I smiled politely, though I wasn’t really listening. When he asked if I was angry with my mom, I decided it was time to be blunt.

“It’s not about her, Mr.,” I shot back.

He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to figure me out.

"Maybe it’s you.”

He finally said, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, "I know you can’t take me as your family. You need time."

I smiled again, this time with a bit of an edge.

“Why are you dating my mom?”

“She’s 14 years older than you,” I added, not hiding the judgment in my voice.

Ezekiel raised his brows and sighed, “Actually, I find her attractive. She’s so different from others.”

“And she understands me a lot.”

“Oh really?” I couldn’t help the smirk that crept onto my face.

“So, you know others too?” I raised an eyebrow.

Ezekiel smiled, his gaze unwavering. “Is there anything wrong with that?”

“Of course not,” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Breakups are so normal these days. But the real question is, how long are you going to be with my mom?”

He sighed, clearly trying to keep his cool. “What if I marry her?”

I gave him a once-over, taking in his casual stance, his smug expression. “Won’t you change your mind?”

“I think not,” he replied, a hint of arrogance in his voice. “But if I were to meet a beautiful girl like you, then it might be a little hard.”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised but not entirely amused by his audacity. Ezekiel continued, his tone teasing, “After all, you are Kathrin’s daughter. How can I ignore a beautiful girl who’s just like her mom?”

“Oh, so I remind you of my mom?” I asked, matching his teasing tone.

“Um… Of course, you’re like a kid version of your mom. I bet she was just as beautiful as you when she was at your age,” Ezekiel said, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

I narrowed my brows, feeling a surge of irritation.

“Listen, I’m not a kid. In fact, I’ll be 20 at the end of this month on the 30th.”

“Oh, really? I thought you were 15 years old,” he said, flashing a smile that only made my annoyance grow.

I rolled my eyes, barely holding back my frustration.

“But anyway,” he continued, “at least I’ve finally seen you smile. I hope we can be good friends in the future. I don’t want our relationship to be just based on Kathrine.”

I rolled my eyes again, this time more dramatically, shifting my gaze away from him. His attempts at charm were getting on my nerves, and I wasn’t about to let him think he was winning me over.

Ezekiel walked to the door, his hand resting on the knob.

“And by the way, I made this cake for our new guest. I hope she’ll try it and let me know what she thinks.”

I looked at the cake; its frosting was perfectly smooth, almost too perfect. Ezekiel’s voice broke the silence, “Also, if she joins us for breakfast, I’ll be happy.”

I sighed, feeling the weight of his expectations. “And what if she doesn’t join? Will he be sad?”

Ezekiel’s smile was instant, and I couldn’t deny that it was attractive. There was something in his expression that held my gaze a little longer than I intended.

“Um, yes, it would break his heart,” he said, his tone light but sincere.

I pressed my lips together, a slight smile playing at the corners. His charm was annoyingly effective, and I could feel my defenses slipping, even if just a little. “By the way, thanks for letting me know about your birthday,” he added, his eyes still locked on mine.

We exchanged a look, one that felt more meaningful than I was ready to admit. Slowly, he stepped back and closed the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and glanced back at the cake. A small smile tugged at my lips, but it quickly faded as reality set in. This was my mom’s boyfriend—the man she was planning to marry. The thought hit me like a wave, suddenly overwhelming the brief moment of levity I’d felt.

I arched my brows, without a second thought, I marched to the bathroom, tossed it into the toilet, and flushed it away. The satisfaction was immediate. With that done, I headed downstairs to the dining room.

Ezekiel was there, meticulously arranging the table. He seemed so out of place, like he belonged in a boardroom, not in my mom’s cozy dining room.

I leaned against a chair, resting my elbow on the back. “Don’t you have work?”

He looked up, still smiling. “What do you mean?”

“My mom says you’re a billionaire, a shareholder in malls and universities. So why are you here, doing this sort of thing?”

Ezekiel didn’t miss a beat. “I took a day off today,” he said, pulling out a chair for me with that same infuriatingly charming smile.

“A day off?” I echoed, arching a brow in disbelief. "Wow, it must be nice to be the owner. You can take a leave whenever you want.”

I sat down, watching him closely. Despite my irritation, I couldn’t help but notice that he looked good when he smiled—too good.

Ezekiel took a seat across from me, his demeanor relaxed. “I’m not a workaholic,” he said casually.

“I just want to live my life, travel the world, and explore everything.”

For a moment, I didn’t know how to respond. He was so different from what I expected—a rich guy who wasn’t obsessed with his wealth or status. It was almost... refreshing.

Ezekiel's words had a strange effect on me, almost hypnotic. His desire to explore the world mirrored my own secret wishes, and for a moment, I found myself drawn into the idea. But just as our conversation was hitting its peak, my mom’s voice interrupted.

“What are you guys talking about?”

I looked up, raising my brows as I spotted her. She was dressed for the office, ready to leave as if today were just another day. It stung—after almost three months of being apart, she couldn’t even take one day off to spend with me.

To mock her, I turned to Ezekiel, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“But Mr. Ezekiel, I don’t think you’ll be with my mom for long. She doesn’t like to explore everything; her only priority is her work.”

Mom froze, the butter knife hovering over the bread.

Her eyes flicked to me, but I ignored her, keeping my gaze on Ezekiel.

“It’s only you who’ll have to compromise, always.”

“Isabella!” Mom’s voice was sharp but controlled. She didn’t want to make a scene in front of him.

“Do you know how much pressure I’m under?” she shot back; her tone defensive. “And for whom I’m doing all this?”

“For you, Isabella.”

I pressed the fork into the table, feeling the familiar weight of her words. I was tired of hearing the same justifications, the same excuses. Standing up abruptly, I glared at her. “Good luck with that.”

Without another word, I stormed out of the dining room, ignoring the breakfast I hadn’t touched, and headed back to the second floor.

**

Kathrine let out a deep breath, her frustration palpable as she looked at Ezekiel.

“Did you see her tone and behavior?” she said, her voice filled with bitterness.

“Just like her dad.”

She shook her head, taking a bite of her bread.

“I’m just fed up with both of them.”

Ezekiel parted his lips as if to say something, but then he hesitated, thinking better of it. Instead, he glanced up toward the second floor, his expression faint.

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