MasukIsabella’s POV I stayed sprawled on my bed in nothing but the thin cotton tank and boy shorts I’d thrown on after my shower, hair still damp and clinging to my neck. My skin felt too warm, too aware. I remember the way Alex had been looking at me from a hidden corner while I ate with Dad and Camila.I hadn’t even had time to catch my breath and think of how to deal with Camilla when the door opened.No knock. Just Alex. He walked inside like he belonged there, barefoot, wearing those low-slung sweats and a black T-shirt that hugged every stupidly perfect line of his shoulders and chest. His hair was messy in that way that said he’d been running his hands through it all evening, probably thinking about me the same way I’d been thinking about him.He didn’t speak at first. Just locked the door behind him, then leaned back against it, arms crossed, watching me like I was the only interesting thing left on the planet.“Hi,” I said. My voice came out breathier than I wanted. “That was fas
Isabella’s POV I stayed sprawled on my bed in nothing but the thin cotton tank and boy shorts I’d thrown on after my shower, hair still damp and clinging to my neck. My skin felt too warm, too aware. I remember the way Alex had been looking at me from a hidden corner while I ate with Dad and Camila.I hadn’t even had time to catch my breath and think of how to deal with Camilla when the door opened.No knock. Just Alex. He walked inside like he belonged there, barefoot, wearing those low-slung sweats and a black T-shirt that hugged every stupidly perfect line of his shoulders and chest. His hair was messy in that way that said he’d been running his hands through it all evening, probably thinking about me the same way I’d been thinking about him.He didn’t speak at first. Just locked the door behind him, then leaned back against it, arms crossed, watching me like I was the only interesting thing left on the planet.“Hi,” I said. My voice came out breathier than I wanted. “That was fas
Isabella’s POV I stayed sprawled on my bed in nothing but the thin cotton tank and boy shorts I’d thrown on after my shower, hair still damp and clinging to my neck. My skin felt too warm, too aware. I remember the way Alex had been looking at me from a hidden corner while I ate with Dad and Camila.I hadn’t even had time to catch my breath and think of how to deal with Camilla when the door opened.No knock. Just Alex. He walked inside like he belonged there, barefoot, wearing those low-slung sweats and a black T-shirt that hugged every stupidly perfect line of his shoulders and chest. His hair was messy in that way that said he’d been running his hands through it all evening, probably thinking about me the same way I’d been thinking about him.He didn’t speak at first. Just locked the door behind him, then leaned back against it, arms crossed, watching me like I was the only interesting thing left on the planet.“Hi,” I said. My voice came out breathier than I wanted. “That was fas
Isabella’s POVI was in my room scrolling through the net when Dad’s voice floated up the stairs.“Isabella? Can you come down?”Something in his tone made my stomach twist, like he was handling something fragile and wasn’t sure it wouldn’t shatter. I pulled my hoodie sleeves over my hands, took a slow breath, and headed down.The second I hit the last step I saw her.Camilla.Standing in the middle of the living room like she had just dropped there from another life. No power suit. No red lips. Just a soft blue sweater, jeans, hair loose and a little messy. Eyes red-rimmed, hands clasped in front like she was waiting for a sentence.My whole body locked up.Dad was standing a few feet away, arms crossed loosely, watching us both. He didn’t say anything. Just gave me that small nod—the one that meant this was my call.Camilla looked at me. No smirk like usual. No calculating eyes. Just… waiting.I stayed on the last step. Didn’t move closer yet.“Camilla.”She swallowed hard. Then too
Isabella’s POVI stood in the foyer feeling like my heart was trying to climb out through my throat. Monm… Blair stood next to me, clutching the strap of her small crossbody bag so tight her knuckles had gone white. She looked like she was braced for the door to slam in her face before anyone even spoke.Dad was in the study. I knew he heard Maria knocked. I knew he knew we were here. I could almost feel the weight of his footsteps coming down the hall before I actually heard them.When he appeared in the doorway, everything slowed.He looked… tired. Not old-tired, just the kind of tired that lives behind the eyes after too many years of carrying things alone. His shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbows, no tie, hair a little messy like he’d run his hands through it too many times today. He stopped a few feet away and just looked at her.At Mom.Nine years. Nine birthdays, nine Christmases, nine random Tuesdays where I’d stared at my phone wondering if today would be the day she texte
Isabella’s POVA text came at 8:47 a.m. on a Thursday, two weeks after Camilla’s final storm-out.Unknown number:*Isabella, it’s your mother. I landed last night. I’m at the Four Seasons downtown. Suite 2204. Come alone. 11 a.m. Please.*My thumb hovered over the reply button for a full minute. I was unsure of what to reply.Mom.BlairThe woman who left when I was twelve, suitcases already packed by the front door, kissed my forehead like it was just another school drop-off. “I’ll call every week,” she’d said. She called for six months. Then every other month. Then birthdays and Christmas cards with money tucked inside. Then stopped. I haven't seen her face in person in eleven years.I texted back one word: *Okay.*Then I felt really sick, so I threw up in the bathroom sink.I didn’t tell anyone about the text I got from mom. Not Richard. Not Alex. Not Maria. This felt like something I had to do alone… like ripping off a bandage that had been stuck too long.I selected outfits, s







