The night was restless.
Isabella had intended to retire to her chambers after dinner, but unease tugged at her. Something about Clarissa's laughter, the glint in Adrian's eyes… it set her nerves alight.
So instead of slipping into bed, she moved silently through the corridors, her slippers barely making a sound on the polished floor. A faint murmur drifted in from the garden terrace. She stilled, every sense sharpening.
Voices.
Pressing close to the carved wooden lattice of a window, Isabella tilted her head and listened.
"…she's changed," Clarissa's voice hissed, sharp as a blade.
Isabella's lips curved in a humorless smile. So you noticed.
Adrian's smooth reply followed, his arrogance as familiar as it was sickening. "…Isabella Iyke is nothing more than a stepping stone. Once her father finalizes the deal, she'll be irrelevant. By then, we'll be untouchable."
The words coiled like snakes in the night air, cold and poisonous. Isabella's fingers clenched against the window frame, but she forced her expression into calm, her heartbeat steady.
So that's your game. The same game as before.
This time, however, she wasn't their pawn.
She waited until their voices softened, then stepped back into the shadows. Without a sound, she returned to her room, her silk nightgown whispering against the floor.
Inside her chambers, Isabella moved to the vanity mirror. Her reflection stared back at her—no longer the naïve girl who once adored false friends, but a woman reborn with steel in her spine.
She sat, folding her hands neatly on the vanity surface, and whispered to her reflection:
"Clarissa Monroe. Adrian Cole. In my last life, I was blind, and you destroyed me. But this time… I'll destroy you first."
Her gaze hardened, a spark of fire igniting in her eyes.
This time, I'll be the one pulling the strings.