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What the—?
Why was there a container of protein powder hidden at the back of the sink?
Isobel stared at the bottle in bewilderment. Was it Dad’s from before he got sick? But why on earth…? It wasn’t like Dad was into pumping iron. He’d go jogging occasionally, but she thought this kind of stuff was usually for guys trying to build up huge muscles.
She tugged out the bottle and unscrewed the cap. It was more than half empty.
She glanced back inside the cabinet and froze. Right beside where the protein powder had been was a bottle of the special cognac her stepmother drank—the shit cost six hundred bucks a bottle and Catrina was always paranoid and accusing Isobel of drinking it when she wasn’t looking.
The truth was Isobel had tried it once but then never again because it tasted like donkey piss.
But looking back and forth between the cognac and the protein powder, she froze, her teeth grinding.
That bitch.
“So he cheated on you.”
Speak of the devil.
Isobel’s back went stiff at her stepmother’s voice. She got to her feet, not wanting Catrina to have her at a disadvantage by towering over her.
“Why am I not surprised?” Catrina sounded almost bored as she stood in the kitchen doorway. It was ten o’clock at night but Catrina was still perfectly made up, her thin former model’s frame standing erect, elegant and dignified in a pale green silk robe. Even in her early fifties, Catrina was still an undeniably beautiful woman. A fact that she’d never let Isobel forget ever since she’d married her father. Isobel had only been ten at the time.
“You’ve become such a fat pig lately. Did you really think he’d stick around?”
Isobel’s jaw locked and she looked back down at the open container of protein powder, the realization of what Catrina had done lighting her blood on fire.
“You’ve gained, what, thirty pounds since you came home to be with your father?” Catrina asked, voice needling. “He was worried about you, you know. He talked about you so much at the end. All he wanted was his beautiful little girl back.” Catrina let out an incredulous little huff and Isobel’s hands balled into fists. She would not be goaded into reacting.
“Of course a father is blind to his daughter’s flaws. You were a little porky pie back then too, weren’t you? But even he couldn’t deny what was in front of his face when you visited him every day. Who will love my Isobel when I’m gone, he’d ask me, looking like she does?”
“Shut up!” Isobel glared at her stepmother and then she reached down and grabbed the protein powder container. “You’ve been adding this to my morning smoothies, haven’t you?” She’d realized it right before Catrina walked in the room. It was the only thing that made sense.
Upset at her unexplained weight gain since coming home, Isobel had gone back to her old habits of counting her calories religiously. She hadn’t struggled with her eating disorder for years. Being away at college, out of this toxic environment, it had been so much easier to establish healthy eating and exercise habits.
But as soon as she got back here and Catrina’s constant verbal digs started up again, along with the unexplained weight gain, plus the emotional stress of everything with Dad, the old obsessions had started coming back.
She hated that she could still be so weak. She’d assumed that she’d overcome all this shit for good when she kicked it the first time.
So as a part of trying to get it all under control again, she made a green veggie and fruit smoothie each night so she could just grab it and go the next morning on her way to the hospital.
But if Catrina had been adding protein powder to her smoothies, that would explain the weight gain.
Catrina’s eyes widened at seeing the container in Isobel’s hands, but then her features settled back into a calm mask of superiority. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Sounds to me like you’re looking to blame everyone else for your lack of self-control, just like always.”
“Then again, you always were just looking for attention. What was it Dr. Rubenstein used to say? Poor little Isobel acts out and tells elaborate lies so people will notice her because she got addicted to the attention people paid her after her mommy killed herself. Though,” she sighed, “by the end, even he admitted crazy might just be in your DNA. But still, isn’t part of your therapy program taking responsibility for your own problems?”
How dare she— To bring up Dr. fucking Rubenstein—
Isobel screamed and threw the container to the ground, ignoring the powder that flew out of it as it fell.
It wasn’t enough, though. Not nearly enough.
She wanted to grab the pots that hung from hooks on the ceiling and fling them at the walls. She wanted to smash the coffee maker to the tile floor. Break it all. Tear it all fucking down—
Catrina tutted, then shook her head at Isobel. “Oh darling, I promised Richard I’d take care of you after he was gone. He worried you might slip back into your…” she leaned in and whispered, “old habits.”
She mimed sticking her finger down her throat and Isobel’s hands squeezed into fists so tight her nails cut into her palms. She needed to leave. To get the hell out of here before she did something she regretted. She turned to go but Catrina’s voice echoed across the kitchen.
