Isabel stepped out of her sleek black car, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor as she made her way toward Damian's company entrance.
She wore a short, fitted skirt that hugged her curves and a silk blouse that left little to the imagination — the kind of outfit that demanded attention. Her perfume lingered in the air, soft and intoxicating.
Just as she reached the glass doors, her phone began to ring.
She glanced at the screen and frowned when she saw the name flashing — Alex. With an irritated sigh, she answered.
"What is it?" she snapped, her tone sharp.
On the other end, Alex's voice came out hesitant. "I… talked to Elena. She doesn't want to meet me."
Isabel's steps slowed for a second, her jaw tightening.
"Then look for a way to convince her," she said coldly. "I don't care how you do it, Alex — just make her come to you."
She didn't wait for his response before ending the call, sliding the phone back into her purse with a flick of her wrist. Her expression hardened — she was done playing gentle.
As she entered the building, every head seemed to turn. The sharp click of her heels echoed through the grand hallway as if announcing her presence before she even spoke.
The receptionist — a young woman with neat glasses and a polite smile — looked up quickly.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry," the secretary began, rising from her desk, "you can't go in without an appointment"
But Isabel didn't even slow down. "I'm sure he'll make time for me," she said smoothly, her voice dripping with confidence.
"Ma'am—please!" the secretary called out, hurrying after her as Isabel strutted down the hall, her hips swaying with deliberate grace.
Before the poor woman could reach her again, Isabel had already pushed open the door to Damian's office.
The secretary froze by the doorway, breathless and panicked. "I—I told her not to go in, sir!" she stammered.
--
Damian sat behind his massive mahogany desk, the glow from his tablet reflecting against his sharp, calm face.
His focus was cold and steady until the sound of heels clattering broke through the silence. The door swung open.
He didn't even look up. "What rubbish is this?" His voice was flat but sharp enough to cut through steel.
The secretary appeared behind Isabel, flustered and breathless. "I'm sorry, sir. I tried to stop her—"
"Leave," Damian said, his tone calm but commanding.
The secretary nodded quickly and slipped out, closing the door behind her. The moment the door clicked, Isabel's perfume filled the room — the same scent she used to wear when they were together.
"Hi, my love," she said softly, stepping closer with a small smile. "It's funny how your workers don't know we're lovers."
Damian's head finally lifted. His eyes, cold and unreadable, met hers. "Were, Isabel. Years ago." He set his tablet down. "What do you want?"
Isabel's lips curved into a faint smile, ignoring his tone.
"I have news to share, Damian. I saw my mother last night. I'm so happy — we actually look alike, you know."
She stepped closer, her heels slow against the floor, her confidence like a mask.
"I couldn't wait to share the news with you because you always told me she will come back for me"
She reached his chair and, like she used to do before, tried to sit on his lap. But Damian moved his chair back — smooth, fast.
She stumbled, lost balance, and fell awkwardly onto the floor. The thud echoed through the quiet office.
For a moment, there was only silence. Isabel's face turned red, her pride stung. Damian didn't even move to help her up.
He simply looked at her — that unreadable, emotionless stare that once made people tremble.
Slowly, she stood, brushing down her skirt, trying to hide her embarrassment. "Damian," she said, her voice shaky, "why are you doing this to me?"
He leaned back slightly, his tone calm, final. "Leave, Isabel."
Her eyes searched his face for any softness, any trace of the man she used to know — but there was none.
***
Elena sat in the garden, her favorite place in Damian's grand estate. The roses were in full bloom, their scent carried gently by the breeze. She was tracing her fingers along one of the flowers, lost in thought.
She liked the peace here.
But even when he wasn't around, she could still feel him.
His presence lingered in every corner, in every breath she took.
She didn't know when it had happened — when the man who owned her body had begun to own her heart too.
It made her weak, foolish even, but she couldn't help it.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the butler appeared at the edge of the path, bowing politely.
"Miss Elena," he said with a faint smile. "Mr. Volkov asked me to inform you — there will be dinner at the Volkov mansion tonight."
Elena's eyes lifted, surprise flickering in them.
She nodded slowly, trying to hide the flutter of nerves and excitement inside her chest.
"Okay, Thank you," she said softly.
As the butler turned and walked away, she allowed herself a small smile.
***
Maria stood by the window.
Her mind kept returning to her daughter, Isabel.
It had been years, and though Isabel was grown now, Maria's heart still ached every time she thought of her.
And then there was Elena — her fragile niece.
Maria had only seen her a few times since arriving, but it was enough to know something was wrong.
"I won't let her stay with him forever," Maria whispered to herself, her voice trembling slightly.
"I'll take her away from there... and I'll introduce her to Isabel. They'll love each other like sisters. I'll fix this."
She turned toward the mirror, brushing a strand of hair from her face when the door opened. A tall guard stepped inside, his expression blank but respectful.
"Madam," he said firmly. "You should dress up. You'll be attending dinner tonight at the Grand Volkov's House."
Maria blinked in surprise. Dinner? She hadn't expected that. Still, she smiled faintly, smoothing the wrinkles in her dress.
"Okay," she replied, her tone calm but laced with determination.
As the door closed, Maria looked at her reflection again.