The Bride Widow
Chapter 185 - 183: Unkindly Visit - Part 1

Chapter 185: 183: Unkindly Visit - Part 1

Anabella sat on the edge of her small bed, staring at the faint sunlight streaming through the window.

The rays warmed her face, but her chest still felt heavy. She was free now. The chains of her marriage to Daniel had been severed, the final papers signed.

It was what she had wanted, wasn’t it? Yet, instead of feeling liberated, she felt trapped—by memories, by lingering guilt, and by the suffocating pressure of her past.

She had thought this freedom would be empowering. She imagined that once she was divorced, she could focus on herself, her dreams, and the life she wanted to build.

But the constant intrusion of her family, their expectations, and their judgment lingered like a shadow she couldn’t escape.

Her stepmother, Helena, had always treated her like a pawn.

Marriage to Daniel was not about Anabella’s happiness; it was about elevating Helena’s status.

Helena had basked in the privileges that came with Anabella’s union to one of the wealthiest families in the city. The expensive gifts, the extravagant parties, and the monthly "allowance" from Daniel’s mother had been the fuel for Helena’s lavish lifestyle.

But now, all of that was crumbling.

______

Helena paced her modestly decorated living room, clutching a glass of wine with trembling fingers. Her hands had never worked for anything—she was a woman accustomed to taking, not giving.

Now, Daniel’s mother had issued her a formal demand: every penny she had "borrowed" from the family during Anabella’s marriage must be repaid. And the financial support she’d relied on had been cut off entirely.

"Ungrateful brat," she muttered, downing her drink and slamming the glass onto the coffee table. "After everything I’ve done for her."

Her thoughts swirled, fueled by alcohol and desperation. Without that money, she had no way to sustain her extravagant lifestyle.

The realization hit her hard—she had no backup plan. Her anger at Anabella grew. To Helena, this was all her stepdaughter’s fault.

If Anabella hadn’t been so selfish, so determined to divorce Daniel, none of this would be happening.

Helena grabbed her coat and staggered out the door, determined to confront Anabella. She’d make her see reason. She’d guilt her into fixing this mess.

After all, wasn’t it Anabella’s duty to support the family? Helena’s mind spiraled as she headed toward Anabella’s apartment above the bakery.

Anabella’s heart sank as the banging on the door intensified, the wood rattling under the force of Helena’s fists. The woman’s slurred voice seeped through the cracks, her words a jumble of anger, desperation, and alcohol. Anabella wiped her hands on her apron and sighed, knowing there was no way to avoid this confrontation.

"Anabella! I know you’re in there!" Helena shouted, her voice sharp and demanding. "Open this door before I break it down!"

Steeling herself, Anabella walked to the door and opened it just enough to see Helena standing there, teetering on unsteady feet. Her makeup was smeared, and her eyes were bloodshot—a clear sign that she had been drinking heavily. A wave of stale wine hit Anabella’s nose, making her grimace.

"What do you want, Mother?" she asked, keeping her tone calm but firm.

Helena pushed the door open wider and stumbled inside without waiting for an invitation. "What do I want? What do I want?" she sneered, her voice dripping with mockery. "I want you to explain how you could do this to me. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Daniel’s mother is breathing down my neck, demanding her money back! You’ve ruined everything!"

Anabella stepped back, maintaining a safe distance. "That’s not my problem, Helena. You brought this on yourself."

Helena’s face twisted in fury, and she jabbed a finger toward Anabella. "Not your problem? Do you know how much I’ve sacrificed for you? I married you off to one of the wealthiest families in the city, and this is how you repay me?"

Anabella folded her arms, her expression cold. "Sacrificed for me? Let’s not pretend this was ever about me. You didn’t marry me off for my happiness—you did it for your own gain. And now that the benefits are gone, you’re panicking. That’s on you."

Helena’s eyes widened, and for a moment, she seemed at a loss for words. Then, her anger surged again, and she closed the distance between them in a few stumbling steps. "You ungrateful little brat!" she hissed. "After everything I’ve done for you, you have the audacity to talk to me like this?"

Anabella stood her ground, refusing to let Helena intimidate her. "I’m done being your pawn, Helena. I’m not your ticket to a luxurious life anymore. It’s time you take responsibility for your actions."

Helena’s breathing grew heavier, her face flushed with rage. "You think you’re better than me now? Just because you got your little divorce? You’re nothing without me, Anabella. Nothing."

Anabella’s patience snapped. She grabbed her phone from the counter and held it up, her thumb hovering over the screen. "If you don’t leave right now, I’ll call the police."

Helena let out a bitter laugh, swaying slightly on her feet. "Oh, go ahead. Call them. See if I care."

Despite her words, a flicker of uncertainty crossed Helena’s face as Anabella dialed the police. The call connected quickly, and Anabella calmly explained the situation, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

"Officers are on their way," Anabella said, lowering the phone and meeting Helena’s gaze. "You have two options: leave on your own or let them escort you out."

Helena’s uncertainty was quickly replaced by defiance. "I’m not going anywhere," she spat. "This is my house as much as yours. I have every right to be here."

Anabella shook her head. "This is my apartment. You have no right to be here, and you know it."

Helena’s fury boiled over. She grabbed a vase from a nearby table and hurled it across the room. The vase shattered against the wall, sending shards flying. Anabella flinched but didn’t back down.

"You think you can get rid of me that easily?" Helena snarled, her voice shaking with rage. "You owe me, Anabella! I raised you, fed you, clothed you—everything you have is because of me!"

Anabella’s voice rose, cutting through Helena’s tirade. "You didn’t raise me! You used me! Every decision you made was for your own benefit, not mine. And I’m done letting you control my life."

The sound of sirens echoed through the street, growing louder with each passing second. Helena glanced toward the window, her bravado faltering for the first time. When the knock on the door came, Anabella didn’t hesitate. She opened it to reveal two uniformed officers, their expressions calm but authoritative.

"Ma’am, we received a call about a disturbance," one of the officers said, his gaze shifting between Anabella and Helena.

Anabella stepped aside, gesturing toward Helena. "This woman is trespassing. I’ve asked her to leave, but she refuses."

The officers turned to Helena, who crossed her arms defiantly. "I’m her stepmother," she said, her voice dripping with indignation. "I have every right to be here."

One of the officers raised an eyebrow. "Ma’am, this is private property. If the resident has asked you to leave, you’re required to comply."

Helena’s lips curled into a sneer. "I’m not going anywhere. You can’t make me."

The officers exchanged a glance, their patience wearing thin. "Ma’am, if you don’t leave voluntarily, we’ll have to escort you out."

Helena’s defiance turned into outright aggression. She lunged toward Anabella, her movements wild and uncoordinated. The officers quickly stepped in, restraining her before she could get close.

"Let me go!" Helena screamed, thrashing against their hold. "You can’t do this to me!"

The officers remained calm as they placed her in handcuffs. "You’re under arrest for disorderly conduct and trespassing," one of them said. "You have the right to remain silent."

As the officers led Helena out of the apartment, her furious shouts faded into the distance, leaving behind a heavy, echoing silence.

Anabella stood by the door, her hands trembling slightly. The adrenaline coursing through her veins made her breath come in short bursts, but she didn’t falter.

She reached out, turned the lock, and slid the deadbolt into place with a resounding click.

She leaned against the door, her forehead resting against the cool wood. For a moment, she closed her eyes and let out a deep, shaky breath.

The storm had passed—for now—but her mind was far from calm. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as the weight of everything that had just transpired sank in.

For years, Anabella had let Helena control her life, dictate her choices, and use her like a pawn in some twisted game of social climbing and personal gain.

Every decision had been measured against Helena’s desires, every step scrutinized and judged. And when H

elena married her off to Daniel, she had thought it was her escape—her chance at freedom. But that had been an illusion, a gilded cage with different bars, different chains.

She walked over to the couch and sank into it, resting her head against the backrest as her thoughts spiraled.

For so long, she had been treated as nothing more than a tool, a puppet for others to pull strings on. First her stepmother, then Daniel, and even his family to some extent.

Every time she tried to assert her independence, it had been met with resistance—soft at first, but always firm enough to push her back into the role they had carved out for her.

Her hands clenched into fists on her lap, her nails digging into her palms. "No more," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible but firm with determination. "I won’t live like that anymore."