Isabella was just about to dial Lucas’s number when the door swung open abruptly.

She flinched, her fingers slipping.

She quickly shoved her phone beneath the quilt.

She looked up and met Sophia’s gaze.

Sophia stood in the doorway, her expression unreadable but stern.

Noticing Isabella’s flustered state, Sophia marched forward.

Her steps echoed with authority.

“What are you hiding?” she demanded, her voice sharp with suspicion. “You’re acting strange!”

She reached for the quilt, her hands grasping.

Isabella paled, panic flashing in her eyes.

If the phone was discovered, her plans would be ruined.

Desperate, she shoved Sophia back. “Stop this madness!”

It was a gentle push, barely a nudge.

But Sophia, already weakened from the previous night, stumbled.

Her legs gave way, and she crumpled to the floor.

Her clothing twisted around her limbs.

Isabella’s eyes trailed over the red marks on Sophia’s skin.

Marks from eager kisses, lingering bites, and rough touches.

Undeniable traces of a wild night.

The sight sent a jolt through Isabella.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Sophia staggered to her feet, movements clumsy but filled with indignation.

“You pushed me?” Her voice was thick with disbelief.

She noticed where Isabella was looking.

A smug smirk twisted her lips.

She slowly adjusted her rumpled clothes.

Her eyes shimmered with unspoken conquest.

“See this?” she asked, drawing out the words. “Ethan is always so…”

She paused, searching for the right description.

“Passionate,” she declared, her tone dripping with coquettish pride.

Isabella’s hands balled into fists at her sides.

Her nails dug into her palms, but she felt only numbness.

She shut her eyes and took a deep breath.

When she opened them, her expression was serene, almost detached.

Was there relief in her calm?

Perhaps.

She was relieved she had fallen out of love with Ethan before his darker side fully emerged.

How much more devastating would the betrayal have been otherwise?

“If you’re done performing, Miss Reed, then leave.” Isabella’s voice was a cold whisper, devoid of emotion.

Sophia was momentarily stunned by the calm.

She gave Isabella a once-over.

Her eyes paused on the cooling patch on Isabella’s forehead.

Just a fever, or something more?

Skepticism flickered across her face.

“Is it really just a fever?” she probed, a sliver of concern in her voice.

Isabella responded with a sharp, biting sneer.

“Thanks to you, I’m still alive,” she spat, venom in every word.