Chapter 4
I wake up in my own bed for the first time in years and not the lumpy thrift store mattress I shared with Daniel,nor the squeaky frame that made noise every time either of us rolled over. My actual bed,a king-sized, Egyptian cotton sheets with a thread count higher than most people's credit scores, in a room bigger than that entire Brooklyn apartment.
The morning light comes through silk curtains and for a moment, I just lie there, staring at the ceiling medallion I used to count the details of when I couldn't sleep as a teenager.
My phone says it's seven AM,it also says I have two hundred and forty-three missed calls.I scroll through the notifications while my coffee brews-because yes, my room has a coffee station built into the wall. Some things you don't realize you miss until you have them again.
Most of the calls are from numbers I don't recognize. Reporters, probably. A few are from people I used to know, back when I was just Isabelle Sinclair.
One text catches my attention,
Marcus Chen: Landing in twenty minutes. I'll be there at ten like Catherine said. I'm bringing breakfast. I remember you hate eating before important conversations.
I stare at that message longer than I should.Marcus Chen is my oldest friend. The boy who pushed Tommy Richardson off the playground swings when we were seven because Tommy said girls couldn't be CEOs.
The teenager who taught me how to code because I asked once and he never forgot. The man who moved to Singapore four years ago for business and sent me a message every single birthday, even when I never responded.
I haven't seen him since before the wedding.The coffee maker beeps and I pour a cup and walk to the window.The estate looks different at daytime.
The gardeners are already working, pruning hedges into sharp lines. A delivery truck idles at the gate-probably the stylist Grandmother called last night.My closet is going to be full of clothes that actually fit by noon.
Clothes that cost what Daniel made in a month.I should feel guilty about that but I don't.My door opens without a knock. Only one person in this house would dare.
"You're awake." Grandmother sweeps in wearing Chanel and purpose.
"Good, because we have work to do."
"It's seven in the morning."I protested
"And Marcus arrives at ten,your mother arrives at nine and the lawyers arrive at eight-thirty."
She sits in the chair by my fireplace like she's holding court. "Daniel called the house sixteen times last night."
"Did you answer?"
"God, no,but he left voicemails. Increasingly unhinged ones." She looks pleased about this. "Thomas is documenting everything for the divorce proceedings."
"What did he say?"
"The usual that he didn't mean it and you're overreacting and he loves you. Then around call twelve, he started threatening to come here." Her smile is sharp. "I've instructed security to remove him from the property if he tries."
I sip my coffee. "He's going to try."
"I know. Men like Daniel always do. They can't fathom that they've actually lost something valuable. They think they can grovel their way back into your good graces."
"He can grovel all he wants."
"That's my girl." She stands, smoothing her skirt. "Now. Marcus will be here in less than three hours. What are you going to tell him?"
"The truth."I said immediately.
"Which version?"
I pause. "What do you mean?"
"Are you going to tell him you've been testing Daniel for years? That you deliberately hid your identity to see if he'd love you anyway? That this entire marriage was an experiment?" She raises an eyebrow. "Because Marcus is going to ask questions, Isabelle. He's not stupid and he's been in love with you since you were children."
"He is not in love with me."I replied sharply
"Darling, apparently everyone knows except you."
I set down my coffee cup. "That's not-we're just friends."
"You're friends because you've never given him the opportunity to be anything else." She moves toward the door. "But now you're single and he's flying halfway around the world so decide what you're going to say, because that man is going to want answers."
She leaves before I can respond.I look back at my phone,at Marcus's text.I remember you hate eating before important conversations.He's known me for twenty-one years.Daniel didn't even remember I'm allergic to shellfish.
By nine-fifteen, I'm dressed like a boss,black trousers and cream coloured silk blouse with heels that add three inches and make me feel like I could conquer a small country.
My hair is down, straightened, the way I used to wear it before I started putting it in a messy bun for my retail shifts.I look like myself again.
Catherine appears in my doorway. "Miss Isabelle, Mr. Chen has arrived early.
"Of course he has, where is he?"
"The front entrance. He's refusing to come inside until he sees you."
I make my way downstairs, and there he is.Marcus Chen, standing in my foyer with a bag from Levon Bakery and an expression I can't quite read.He looks different,older and his suits got more expensive but his eyes are the same-dark and intense and currently staring at me like I might disappear if he blinks.
"Isabelle."
The way he says it makes something in my chest tighten."Marcus, good to see you"
We stand there for a moment, three feet and four years between us,then he closes the distance and pulls me into a hug.I freeze before I melt then I am almost moved to tears because Marcus smells like home-expensive cologne and coffee and something essentially him.
"I'm going to kill him," Marcus says into my hair. "I'm going to actually kill him."
"No you won't silly."
He pulls back, hands on my shoulders, studying my face like he's checking for injuries. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."I replied avoiding his eyes
"That's not what I asked."
"I said i'm fine," I repeat, firmer this time.
His jaw tightens. "I should have been here. I never should have gone to Singapore."
"You had to. The expansion..."
"Fuck the expansion." The profanity sounds wrong in his mouth cause Marcus never swears. "I should have been here. I could have..."
"You could have what? Stopped me from marrying Daniel? You tried that and I didn't listen."
"I should have tried harder."
"Marcus." I step back, creating space. "I made my choice. It was a bad one. But it was mine."He looks at me for a long moment. Then nods, jaw still tight.
"Okay. Fine but I'm here now." He holds up the Levon bag. "And I brought those chocolate chip cookies you're obsessed with. So we're going to sit down, you're going to tell me everything, and then I'm going to fix this."
"You can't fix this."I chuckled
"Watch me."There's something in his voice, something fierce and protective and completely unreasonable that makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time.