I turned to see him pushing through the crowd, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. He grabbed my arm, pulling me back a step.
 
“What the hell is going on?” he demanded, glaring at Phillip.
 
“Ask your little friend,” Phillip said coolly, stepping back and crossing his arms.
 
Noah didn’t waste any more time. He tugged me away, his grip firm but not rough.
 
“Let’s go,” he said under his breath. "We dont have time for bastards." He said while looking at Phillip. Everyone looking at us with ow face and pout mouth!
 
Than phillip step ahead and punch on Noah's face. I was scared, Noah's nnose starts bleeding and he stood and punch on him. Phillip punch on Noah's abs while Noah fall down and his nose bleeding too much. I hold his hand and took him back to car while looking into Phillip's eyes in anger and showing how strong I am.
 
The car ride home was quiet at first. Noah’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his jaw clenched. Nose stop bleed after used ice cubes. I could tell he was waiting for me to say something, but I wasn’t sure where to start.
 
Finally, he broke the silence. “What were you thinking, Elle?”
 
I looked out the window, watching the trees blur past. “I don’t know. I just… I couldn’t let him get away with it.”
 
“You called him a bastard in front of half the school,” he said, glancing at me. “Do you realize how bad that could’ve gone?”
 
I turned to him, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Yeah, but it didn’t. I mean, did you see his face? He didn’t know what to do. And I’m.. I’m not low status girl like him. Who abuse and say wrong words.”
 
Noah shook his head, but I could see the faintest hint of a smile on his face. “You’re unbelievable but sometimes we need to use bad words.”
 
I leaned back in my seat, a strange sense of satisfaction washing over me. For once, I hadn’t let Phillip walk all over me. I’d stood my ground, and it felt good.
 
Really good. But Noah's face and nose become reddish and he keep using ice on his face.
 
When I got home, I collapsed onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling. The events of the day played over and over in my head, but instead of embarrassment or regret, all I felt was pride.
 
For the first time in a long time, I’d stood up for myself. I didn’t care about Phillip’s status, his money, or the power he held over everyone else. He was just another person, and I wasn’t going to let him intimidate me.
 
My phone was broken, my knees were scraped, and I’d probably made an enemy out of one of the most popular guys in school.
 
But for the first time all day, I felt like I could breathe. But the breath was no long as I heard the voices of my father and mother.
The shouting shook the walls of our small house, pulling me out of my thoughts. My chest tightened as I heard my parents' voices rise, each word cutting sharper than the last.
 
I walked downstairs, my heart pounding. They were in the living room, my mother standing with her arms crossed, her eyes red from crying, and my father pacing like a trapped animal.
 
“You sold the TV, Charlie! The one thing the kids use every day, and for what? Another bet? Another round of cards?” my mother shouted, her voice trembling with frustration.
 
“I’ll win it back! Don’t act like you’re perfect, Maria. You think you’re some saint because you cry and complain?” my father shot back, his words slurring slightly.
 
I froze on the bottom step, gripping the railing. My little brother crying I got closer to him and hugged him very tight and closed his eyes with the help of my hand as I oftenly do. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen them like this, but tonight felt different. My father looked more lost than ever, and my mother looked ready to break.
 
“Win it back?” my mother laughed bitterly. “You don’t win anything, Charlie. You lose. Over and over. You’ve lost money, trust, and now this family. What will you sell next? My wedding ring? Isabella’s books? Or our son,?”
 
“Don’t talk to me like that in front of the kids,” he snapped, glancing toward me. Our eyes met, and for a moment, he looked ashamed. But it passed quickly, and he turned back to her.
 
I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Stop it!” I said, stepping into the room. My voice came out shakier than I wanted, but it was enough to make them pause.l
 
My father grabbed his jacket from the couch, muttering under his breath. “You all act like I’m the devil. Fine, I’ll go.”
 
He slammed the door on his way out, and the house fell silent except for my mother’s quiet sobs.
 
I crossed the room and wrapped my arms around her and my brother Francisco. She stiffened at first, then melted into the hug, clutching me like I was her anchor.
 
“It’s going to be okay, Mom,” I whispered, even though I wasn’t sure if I believed it.
 
She buried her face in my shoulder, her tears soaking through my shirt. “I just don’t know what to do anymore, Bella. I don’t know how to fix this.”
 
Her words broke something inside me, but I couldn’t cry. Not now. My father might be a gambler, a liar, and a coward, but he was still my dad. And someone had to take care of him.
 
“I’ll fix it,” I said softly, stroking her hair. “We’ll figure it out together, okay?”
 
She nodded, pulling me tighter. But deep down, I knew the weight of this family was falling on me, and it was heavier than I could carry.
 
Noah’s POV
 
My room was quiet, but I wasn’t alone. My dad stood in the doorway, his eyes narrowing as he looked at my face.
 
“What happened to your nose?” he asked sharply, his tone already accusing.
 
I touched the bridge of my nose, wincing at the soreness. I’d forgotten about the scrape from when I’d helped Isabella.
 
“It’s nothing,” I muttered, avoiding his gaze.
 
“Nothing?” he said, stepping closer. “Let me guess—Isabella? Did she drag you into another one of her messes?”
 
His words made my blood boil. “It wasn’t her fault. She—”
 
“Enough!” he snapped, cutting me off. “You’re a grown man now, Noah. Start acting like it. That girl is nothing but trouble. You think you’re helping her, but she’s just holding you back.”
 
“She’s not trouble,” I said firmly, meeting his eyes. “You don’t know her. You don’t know what she’s been through.”
 
“She’s bad blood,” he said, his voice cold. “Her father’s a drunk, her family’s falling apart, and she’s dragging you down with them. You think the world will respect a man who wastes his time on people like her? Focus on your studies, on our business. Be the kind of man who earns respect, not pity.”
 
My hands clenched into fists at my sides. “She’s not dragging me down, and she is not any other girl she is Isabella..Isabella my childhood friend and I...I loved her. She is only the trusted person I've ever met.” I said through gritted teeth. “She’s my friend, and I’m not going to turn my back on her just because you think she’s not good enough. I'm mature now so lemme learn through my mistakes.”
 
He shook his head, his jaw tightening. “You don’t get it, do you? Life isn’t about friendship. It’s about power, success, and money. And that girl has none of it. She’ll only hold you back. This type of girls set trap on rich boys and fall them apart. Remember it you will regret soon.”
 
I stepped closer to him, my anger boiling over. “You don’t know anything about her. She’s kind, strong, and she’s been through more than you ever will. And I’m not going to let you talk about her like that.”
 
Before I could react, his hand shot out, and I felt the sting of his slap across my cheek. The slap was hot as lava on my cheek and it hurts my soul not my face.
 
The room fell silent. My mother, who had been standing in the hallway, rushed forward.
 
“Marcus!” she shouted, pulling him back. “What’s wrong with you? He’s your son!”
 
My dad stormed out of the room without another word, slamming the door behind him.
 
My mom turned to me, her eyes full of worry. “Noah, are you okay?” she asked, touching my cheek.
 
“I’m fine,” I said, pulling away gently. “I just need to be alone.”
 
She nodded reluctantly, stepping back. “I’ll talk to him. He doesn’t mean it, you know.”
 
I didn’t answer. As soon as she left, I closed the door and sat on my bed, my head in my hands.
 
I couldn’t stop thinking about Isabella. She had no idea how much strength she had, how much light she brought into my life. Watching her fight her battles made me want to be better—not for my dad, not for anyone else, but for myself.
 
She didn’t deserve to be called bad blood because of her father. She wasn’t perfect, but neither was I. And maybe that’s why we understood each other.
 
In that moment, I made a silent promise: I wouldn’t let anyone, not even my own father, take her light away. She needed someone to stand by her, and I was going to be that person, no matter what.
 
Phillips POV
 
The night was quiet, broken only by the soft strumming of my guitar. I sat by the open window, wearing nothing but a pair of black trousers. The cool breeze brushed against my skin, mingling with the sweat that clung to my chest and back. The drops of sweat set on my abs. The moonlight spilled into the room, casting a faint glow that made everything look sharper—like a scene from a dream.
 
The guitar strings hummed under my fingers as I played an old tune I hadn’t touched in years. The melody came naturally, each note pulling memories from deep within me. My voice was low, almost a whisper, as I began to sing.
 
“In the quiet of the night, where shadows fall,
I’m searching for a light, for something, for it all.
The fire burns deep, but the ashes grow cold,
A heart full of stories, but none to be told.”
 
I tilted my head back, my damp hair falling over my face, sticking to my skin. My fingers moved faster, the song building, the rhythm more intense.
 
“Oh, what’s a man to do, with a soul split in two?
Chained by the past, but reaching for the new.
Burn me down, like a Phoenix I’ll rise,
Through the ashes and the pain, I’ll touch the skies.”
 
I chuckled darkly to myself, the sound echoing off the empty walls. The song felt too real, too raw tonight, and I wasn’t in the mood to drown in emotions.
 
I placed the guitar down beside me, the strings humming softly as I let go. The moonlight caught the tattoo on my collarbone—a Latin phrase etched in black ink. "Dum Spiro spero." While I breathe, I hope.
 
It was ironic, really. I wasn’t sure I’d conquered anything yet. My reflection in the glass was a reminder of that—a mess of a man trying to look composed.
 
I leaned forward, the Phoenix tattoo on my back flexing as I moved. Sweat glistened on my skin, making the ink shimmer faintly under the moonlight. The intricate wings of the bird seemed alive, spreading across my shoulders as if ready to take flight. The compass tattoo shining like its telling me direction of my life!
 
But I couldn’t sit there anymore. I needed to cool off, to escape the weight pressing down on me.
 
I stood, running a hand through my damp hair as I laughed again—a low, bitter sound that echoed through the empty room.
 
“Yeah, that’s enough of that,” I muttered under my breath.
 
Leaving the guitar behind, I walked toward the bathroom. The cold tiles felt like a relief under my feet. I twisted the faucet, and the sound of running water filled the space. I stepped into the shower, letting the cold stream wash over me, chasing away the sweat and the heat.
 
The water dripped from my hair, running over my shoulders and my veiny spiderweb like chest, down my back tracing the lineqs of the Phoenix. The veiny down area from navel feeling like a spiderman to me. For a moment, I closed my eyes, letting the water drown out the noise in my head. My pink lips and flirty mouth feeling the whispers of each drops.
 
But even then, in the silence, her face flashed in my mind. Isabella. Her voice, her fire, her damn defiance.
 
I sighed and leaned against the cold tiles, letting the water wash over me as I tried to push the thoughts away. But it was no use. She was always there, even when I didn’t want her to be.