CHAPTER NINETEEN: BLURS OF REGRET

Isabella woke with a start, the dull throb in her skull pulsing in time with the morning sun creeping through the curtains. Her mouth tasted of stale alcohol and regret. She groaned, clutching her forehead as fragmented images from the night before danced behind her eyelids—too loud, too messy, and far too public.

She staggered out of bed, wincing as each step reminded her body of its hangover. The house was quiet, but not peaceful. A tension hung in the air like smoke after a fire.

"Urghh." She groaned as she made her way to the living room.

Collapsing onto the couch in the sitting room, Isabella reached for her phone. She needed to check the extent of damage.

She only remembered taking a drink from a waiter, then the rest of the events from the other nights were mere blurs, blurs that tasted like regret.

Notifications flooded her screen as soon as she turned on her phone. Dozens of tags, messages, and screenshots. 

Her heart sank as she opened the first image—a photo of her, clearly drunk, half-slumped on a barstool, eyeliner smudged, mouth open mid-sentence. She looked unrecognizable. Beneath it, comments buzzed like wasps. Videos spread all over the internet, videos of her chanting inaudible words and dancing off-beat to the music playing. There was a few of Rafael trying to hold her down.

"No," Isabella exclaimed. Her hand moved to scatter her already scattered hair. This was bad for her reputation, this was bad for the company.

Like it wasn't bad enough already, then came the worst of it.

As she scrolled further, there was a side by side photo of her and Natalie from last night, placed side by side. Recall that they had the same outfit on.

Isabella had taken a photo before the start of the event which she had uploaded on her socials.

Rage tore at her at the comparison that flooded the comment section under the photos.

“Natalie obviously wore it better."

"Two queens rocking the same outfit, but I must confess that Natalie looks better on it."

Isabella's fingers clutched her phone tightly that it threatened to break.

"No, this isn't happening." She groaned.

Rising to her feet, she staggered across the room, still scrolling through in disbelief, her hands trembling.

 This wasn’t just gossip. It felt deliberate. Humiliation, perfectly timed and strategically spread.

Isabella’s lips curled. “It was Natalie,” she muttered under her breath. “She set me up.”

There was no other person who would have been responsible for this other than her, she did this on purpose just to humiliate her. Isabella's rage grew with each passing moment, and with each realisation that Natalie could have been the one responsible for all of these.

Footsteps approached. Rafael leaned in the doorway, rubbing sleep from his eyes. His brows raised slightly at the sight of her 

 “Isabella?" He called as he began to approach her.

Isabella brought her palm to her face, maybe to mask the last of her shame, to protect the last shred of dignity she had left in her.

 You are up already?" He asked as he approached her.

Isabella wondered if he had seen the news.

"You should go back to bed, Isabella, you can take the day off." Rafael told her calmly, walking to the kitchen.

“I’m not going back to bed,” she snapped, her voice raw. “you know it was her, right? Natalie did this to me.” She dragged, dragging her feet as she followed behind him to the kitchen.

A frown graced Rafael's handsome features as he turned to face her.

"What are you talking about?" 

"She did that to me. Natalie was responsible for yesterday." Isabella snapped.

Rafael filled his cup with coffee, struggling to not get offended. "Look, Isabella, you should learn to take responsibility for you actions and stop trying to put the blame in someone else. I wouldn't fault you for it. We all get drunk once in a while."

But she wasn’t listening. “She made sure I was seen like that. Someone took those pictures, Rafael. Someone shared them.”

Rafael shot Isabella a glance.

"She wasn't even there when the whole drama started, Isabella. Why are you trying to accuse her?"

Isabella gulped down hard, tightening her knuckles. 

Even though a bigger part of last night was lost in a haze, she could still remember that the amount of alcohol she had taken was not enough to have gotten her drunk to that extent. She had always made sure to be cautious and not drink too much in public.

"Admit it, Isabella, you got carried away and had a little too much to drink." Rafael adsds, as if he could read her thoughts.

Isabella's temper only spiked.

"I have not gotten carried away for years, Rafael, it couldn't have happened suddenly now."

She knew it wasn't a coincidence, not the matching outfits, not the drink. But how could she explain this to Rafael without sounding crazy?

Before Rafael could respond, the door creaked open. The house keeper walked in to inform them of the presence of a visitor.

Before they could enquire who it was, the sound of heels on tile introduced the presence of Natalie's in the house.

Natalie stepped inside, looking sleek as ever in her office clothes.

She had her hair tied up in a neat ponytail.

Isabella stiffened. 

Before she could make any further moves, Rafael's sharp gaze kept her in place.

"Natalie." Rafael called, stepping forward.

From the corner of her eyes, Isabella saw Rafael's flushed face. That look.

"Rafael," Natalie called.

She shared a brief hug with Rafael and walked past him to Isabella's standing position.

"Isabella," Natalie called, lines of worry etched her forehead. "How are you doing? You got in a pretty bad shape at the party last night." 

Rage boiled through Isabella's veins, but she struggled to maintain a calm profile. A pretty bad shape that she was responsible for, of course.

"I am fine, as you can see." Isabella said, fighting to hide the rudeness that was starting to crawl in.

Natalie's smile stretched.

"Oh, I'm glad, I just dropped by on my way to the office to check up on you. I'd get going then." 

She exchanged a quick handshake with Rafael, and just like that, the loud clicking of her heels on the tiled floor announced her exit.

Isabella turned to Rafael, scorn gracing gee face. "She visits the house now?" She asked spitefully.

Having had enough for the money, Rafael snapped at her. "She obviously came to see you, Isabella, the least you can do is be nice. Stop haunting me, Isabella, I am tired of you." 

And just like that, Rafael walked past her and disappeared into the hallway.

Isabella stood there, watching Rafael walk away from her.

He has walked away from her the same way in the past, and had chosen another woman over her. It was happening again, he was doing it again.

Her mind drifted back to Natalie. Was she declaring war?