Isabel interrogation

Lydia was tapping furiously on her phone, completely unfazed, as if the entire room wasn't thick with the chaos of our latest revelation. Chloe was practically trying to merge with the couch cushions, avoiding eye contact like her life depended on it. And Isabel?

Isabel was just sitting there. Cool as ever. Legs crossed, arms draped lazily over the back of the couch, completely unbothered.

If she had a drink in her hand, she would have looked like she belonged in some dramatic movie scene where she was the mastermind behind everything.

Meanwhile, I was still processing the fact that my best friend and my assistant had a history. And not just a little history—a very recent, very scandalous history.

I turned to Carmen, whispering, "How is she so calm?"

Carmen smirked. "Because she's Isabel."

Yeah. That was fair.

But I needed answers.

"Isabel," I called, narrowing my eyes at her.