LOGAN He was lying on his side, one arm bent beneath the pillow like it belonged there, like he belonged here.His dark lashes fanned out against his cheekbones in a way that should be illegal for someone that infuriatingly male.His lips were slightly parted. He had no idea what was going on inside my head right now at full sarcasm mode.God, how had I managed to turn last night into a melodramatic episode of Save The Pathetic Girl From Her Own Brain?I rubbed a hand down my face, feeling the ghost of tears I didn’t even remember shedding. Typical, classic Isabella.Spend years building walls so high even an emotional earthquake wouldn’t be able to knock them down... only to shatter like glass because a nightmare decided it would be amusing to throw me back into hell, and worse? Logan had seen it.Fabulous.Just what I needed. A front-row audience to my midnight performance of Trauma: The Greatest Hits.I shifted slightly, grimacing when the sheets rustled too loudly in the quiet of
ISABELLA The rain pounded against the windowpane, each droplet a tiny drumbeat in the symphony of the storm. Thunder growled overhead, its deep rumble resonating through the walls, making the very air quiver.The room was steeped in shadows, the occasional flash of lightning casting fleeting, jagged illuminations that danced across the ceiling. I lay curled beneath the blankets, and the fabric twisted tightly in my clenched fists. Despite the oppressive warmth of the room, a shiver traced its way down my spine. Sleep had become a treacherous endeavour since that night.Each attempt to surrender to rest was met with a barrage of haunting memories and twisted dreams that left me gasping for air.Tonight was no exception.In the murky depths of my subconscious, I found myself running. The ground beneath me was uneven, littered with debris that threatened to trip me with every frantic step.My breath came in ragged gasps, chest heaving as panic surged through my veins. Behind me, the he
ISABELLA Dinner at the restaurant was supposed to be the perfect way to end the day, but of course, life had other plans.The place was elegant but not overwhelmingly so. It was a soft cacophony of warm lighting, soft music, and the occasional clink of silverware against fine china.I felt more comfortable here than I had expected. Maybe it was because, after spending the entire day out with Logan, I was slowly getting used to the way people stared at him.I barely even noticed it now, which was a huge improvement from when I first found myself in his world.Logan sat across from me, relaxed, looking like he belonged in a high-end magazine ad, effortlessly charming as he scanned the menu. He glanced at me from time to time, smirking slightly, as if waiting for me to make some kind of sarcastic remark about the absurd prices, and honestly? I was tempted, but I was distracted; by him, by the day, by the strange warmth in my chest, I wasn’t ready to address.Then, of course, the univer
ISABELLA I sat in the quiet of the living room, scrolling through the news on my new phone. My eyes flicked over the headlines, scanning each one quickly. Most of them were still talking about the leaked video.It was like my life was splashed across every platform. But, slowly, the chatter was dying down.The outrage, the shock, and the endless speculation. I was mostly thankful that it was all starting to fade, replaced by newer stories and other scandals.For a moment, I felt a strange sense of relief. Maybe it was finally over. Maybe the world had moved on. But no matter how much I wanted to feel thankful for the silence, it didn't erase the weight still pressing on my chest. The trauma lingered, and a dull ache that wouldn’t leave.I shifted in my seat, trying to push the thoughts away, but they were always there, lurking in the back of my mind.Just then, the maid stepped into the room. "Miss Isabella," she said, her voice gentle. "Mr. Logan asked me to tell you to get dressed.
LOGANThe drive home was quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound accompanying me as I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel. My thoughts, however, were loud. Chaotic.I had made up my mind not to tell Isabella about Ethan’s betrayal. She had been through enough.Dragging her into more chaos when she was barely piecing herself together felt cruel. No, she didn’t need to know. I’d handle it. I always did.Before heading home, I had a conversation with my media manager, ensuring that the videos would stop circulating and that Ethan’s name would never come up.There was no point in letting the world know he was the snake behind it all, not yet, at least. But my resentment towards him had settled deep in my bones, making every muscle in my body tense.Looking back, the signs had always been there. Subtle, but present.There was the time we were at a club with the team, and Ethan had leaned in close to a group of reporters, dropping sly remarks about how I had ‘a thing for taking
LOGAN This morning, I had woken up for practice angrier than I had ever been. I was literally filled with the rage to just punch into something until there was nothing left to give.My media manager assured me he would handle the situation, that the videos would stop circulating, that no one would ever know who leaked them. But I knew, and I made a choice.I wasn’t going to tell Isabella. She had been through enough, dragged through the dirt, her name spat out like a curse by people who didn’t know a damn thing about her.Telling her it was Ethan would crush her, and I wasn’t willing to do that to her. Not when she was barely holding herself together as it was.But my hatred for Ethan festered and the more I thought about it, the more pieces of the puzzle started fitting together, painting a picture I should have seen a long time ago.The signs were there. Little things, brushed off as nothing more than minor annoyances. The subtle digs disguised as jokes.The way he always seemed a