Isabella sat at the dining table, picking at the food on her plate. Agnes placed a cup of café solo beside her. She muttered her thanks but the rich aroma did nothing to soothe her. She took a small bite of the xuixo, then chased it with a sip of café solo. The bitter heat scraped her dry throat, offering no comfort.
The room felt too big. Too quiet.
Isabella's eyes drifted to the sitting room where Harry and Xander sat on a sofa talking, voices low. Her eyes fixated on Harry, moving to the jacket placed behind him. She had woken up with the jacket draped over her and Harry constantly glancing at the rearview mirror. When she asked what the problem was, she had received a gruff Torna a dormir like she was an intruder. (Go back to sleep)
*Just when you begin to think there may be a heart under that cold exterior, he does something to make you think otherwise. Pfft.*
Isabella caught her name in their conversation. Then silence.
Her eyes narrowed at them, her forehead creasing. She noticed Harry's eyes flick to her, then Xander's. They stopped talking and exchanged glances. Isabella watched as Harry shook his head at Xander. She kept eating — or tried to — but her stomach felt too tight, like her intestines were knotting up inside her.
Another glance from Xander, his brow furrowed in worry. Isabella wiped her mouth with exaggerated calm, gathered herself, and walked into the sitting room.
"Is there a particular reason why you two are watching me like hawks?"
She came to a stop in front of them, arms folded across her chest. Her eyes locked with Harry's and she fought the urge to look away. His eyes both unsettled and pulled her in, and for whatever reason, he reminded her of someone, especially after the break down in the car.
*I must be projecting my longing.*
His gaze stayed on her face a fraction too long and she raised an eyebrow. "What is it? The car behind us? Who were they?"
"Wait— you're done eating already?" Xander asked.
Harry cut in. "They're paparazzi. Probably hoping to get some clicks with the recent news still circulating."
Xander gave him a sharp look and leaned in to whisper. "She has the right to know."
"We talked about this," Harry whispered back. "I've a plan. Don't. Ruin. It," he emphasized.
"A still half-baked plan?"
"Xander. It's not—."
"What's going on?" Isabella cut in. "You're making me anxious with all these whispering."
"Let's consider this Plan A and your — mind game, a backup plan?" Xander offered a truce. "Doesn't hurt to try both."
"If anything goes wrong, you take responsibility?"
Xander sighed. "I will. Cool?"
Harry gave him a nod and Xander turned his laptop towards Isabella. "That wasn't just a random tail. They were tracking you for a while."
Isabella's whole body tensed and she moved closer to get a good look. Xander went on. "I don't think they're just the Paparazzi. If I had a look at your Dashcam, I'm pretty sure I would spot them somewhere."
"But...I only just flew in the other day."
"She's been out of town, Xan."
"Right. But maybe we could still have a look, see if—."
Isabella blinked. "Wait. How do you know that?"
Harry didn't respond right away.
Xander froze, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He blinked once, glanced at Harry, then quickly resumed typing — like he could erase the tension by pretending it wasn't there.
"Know what?" Harry said eventually, his voice even.
"That I've been out of town."
Another glance passed between the two men. It was quick but not invisible. Isabella felt it, like a ripple in still water.
Harry leaned back slightly. "I have a sister named María," he said with practiced ease. "She talks. A lot."
"Oh." Isabella looked away, scratching the back of her neck. "Right. Of course."
*Why do I feel like there is more?*
Harry cleared his throat. "Xan may be right and they could be accomplices with—" Harry and Xander exchanged glances again and a frown etched onto Isabella's face.
*What are they hiding?*
"—Wade and Duarte. Either way, I've a countermeasure," Harry completed.
Isabella blinked. Nothing was making sense.
*Countermeasure? Why would he need a countermeasure unless...*
"I'm sorry —am I supposed to know those names? Who are they?"
Xander cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly on the sofa. Alarm bells went off in Isabella's head as she looked from Xander to Harry and her guts tightened. She just knew — whatever was coming, she wasn't going to like it. Just then, María rushed in, breathless, worry etched onto her flushed face. Her heels clicked rapidly across the floor as she made for Isabella—then stopped short, catching the tension in her stance. Her eyes followed Isabella's gaze... to Harry.
"What's going on?" She asked, bringing everyone's attention to her. "What did you do this time, Harry?"
"We've got some names. You might want to sit," Xander answered, gesturing for the girls to sit. They didn't budge. María came to stand beside Isabella, putting an arm around her. Xander shrugged. "Suit yourselves."
Harry didn't sugarcoat it —he laid it all out: tracking Jonas to his hideout. Mateo working with him. Jonas's demands. The pictures from when Isabella was younger, probably in high school. Possibly drugged.
He left out the part where he let his rage control him. Left out the Montez corporate secrets and dirt Jonas had with him. Isabella's skin turned icy cold as she listened to Harry. Her legs shook and she lowered herself slowly on the nearest sofa, afraid that her legs would give out under her. Her fists rested on her lips, her eyes staring into space. María's jaw dropped, eyes wide, trying to process what she'd just heard.
"Do you know any Mateo Duarte?" Xander asked once Harry was done. "He went to the same high school as you and—"
Isabella's low, still voice cut him off. "Pigtails. Red lacy lingerie. Knee-high strappy heels. A sweet smile. Smokey make-up?" Isabella's eyes slowly came up to meet Xander's, yet they looked past him.
It took Xander a couple seconds to realize what she had been describing —herself. In the pictures. He nodded, unable to give a verbal confirmation. Harry's hands balled into fists at his sides and María moved closer to Isabella but a shake of her head stopped her.
Then she broke her silence, admitting with a scoff. "Oh, I do know Mateo. Except I knew him as Mateo Carter. My first boyfriend."
No one said anything. The room went silent. Harry gestured for Agnes to leave them and she scurried away.
**"Of course I trusted him. I was young. Stupid. Hopeful," Isabella continued, eyes unfocused, teeth grinding against each other. "He made me believe he was the only one who truly saw me."
Her voice was calm but her hands trembled in her lap.
I was sixteen. He'd just punched a senior who called me names behind the art block. Everyone was scared of Mateo Carter — but he only ever smiled at me.
It was in his arms I sought comfort on Mami's death day. It was in his ears I ranted and cried about how much I missed Mami and how hard Papa was on me.
"They're jealous, Bella," he'd said, pulling my camera bag onto his lap like it weighed nothing. "You're better than them. They don't get it — the way you see beauty through a lens. It's rare."
He made me feel like more than the heir to a corporate empire. Like I wasn't the weird girl with a camera who never fit in. With him, I wasn't invisible. I was seen.
Except I wasn't. Not really.
"You trust me, right?"
Of course I did. I nodded.**
Back in the present, Isabella's voice dropped to a whisper, she blinked, refocusing.
"He asked for photos. Said they'd be just for him. I didn't want to. But I owed him. Or thought I did."
Her eyes found the floor. "When he said he deleted them afterwards, I believed him" A Scoff. "I was so blinded, I didn't even ask to check."
A bitter laugh bubbled up her throat. "When he needed money, he brought it up, threatened to paste it all over school or send it to the media. I panicked. Stole from Papa. Paid Mateo to disappear. And told myself — hoped — it was over."
Isabella was quiet for a while, piecing herself back together, a grim look on her face. Harry looked away at the sight.
A vein pulsed at his neck as he remembered the way she'd crumbled that night — her voice shaking, eyes burning. She'd said almost these same things then, too. Raw. Confessional. And now, though her voice was calm, he could see it — the fire under the ice.
Xander rubbed the back of his neck, not sure what to say or do. Maybe he should have let Harry kill those bastards after all. He glanced at Harry, who had a stormy look on his face.
*Not too late for that.*
"Oh, Isa." María cut the tense silence. "You never told me about that. You came out strong. How do you do it?"
*Strong? Am I?*
Isabella shrugged. "I just do it. What choice do I have?"
"You handled it so well, Isa. You turned out decent despite it all. I'm proud of you," María said, holding back the urge to hug her. She knew Isabella would pull away.
*No, no, no, I didn't. I went insane. I lost my spark. I bled in silence. I shattered alone. And I wore a smile that lied better than any mask could.
I had no choice but to survive.*
Isabella gave María a tight smile, not wanting to hurt her feelings. "Yeah. Decent," she murmured. "I thought it was gone. Buried. I should have—"
Harry cut in, calm but deadly assured. "It's gone now. We made sure of it."
*And neither Mateo nor Jonas will ever get near you again.*
Isabella gave Harry a disbelieving look. "You don't expect me to believe you, do you?" She exhaled. "You're not exactly trustworthy, Mr. Danvers. And I don't give blind trust anymore. Not even to men who saved me."
Harry nodded in approval. "Good. You're using your head now."
María and Xander both gasped. Isabella shot him a glare sharp enough to slit a throat. "You've an infuriating way of—"
"I'm not asking you to trust me, Ms. Montez." Harry met her eyes. Held it. "Just watch me."
Their eyes bored into each other, one searching, the other carrying an uncharacteristic warmth. It disappeared the next minute, leaving Isabella wondering if it was ever there. Harry raised an eyebrow at her.
"What's it going to be, Montez?"
*He's been of immense help so far without my having to ask. I guess I can try working with him. There is no harm in that, right?*
She wasn't saying yes. Or no. Just...reaching out.
Isabella nodded. Xander sprang up immediately at the agreement, coming to sit beside her. He moved closer to her gingerly. "Um...uh... I'll need to invade your space for a minute or so," he shot her an awkward smile.
Isabella gave him a tight smile in return and María rolled her eyes at the exchange. "He's never this respectful. Don't get used to it," Maria said with a scoff.
Xander sent her a smirk. Harry cleared his throat before they could both get into a banter.
"No side talks. I'm pretty sure Montez here would need a rest." His eyes searched her face. Isabella looked away, hating the way she felt bare. "Let's get this over and done with."
Xander handed the pre-drafted PR contract to Isabella, defining what she's allowed to say, what they will protect. "It also covers why we stepped in to handle your case directly —since we'll be appearing at the press conference, this makes our role official." He flipped over a page. "You just need to sign here."
Isabella skimmed through the documents slowly, twirling the pen Xander had handed her between her fingers. "It's...thorough," she muttered, lifting a brow.
Xander grinned. "Of course. Wish I could take the glory for that." He pointed at Harry. "But Mr. Broody here took my draft apart and rebuilt it."
Isabella's eyes skimmed to Harry and away when she found he had his eyes on her. She lowered them to the paper, biting her lower lip. "It says here that I'm suing them?"
She flinched. Not because of what was said — but because it came from Harry, not Xander.
"Were you planning not to?"
For some reason, it felt like he was challenging her. She took a shaky breath in, turning burning eyes to him.
"Try having all this dropped on you out of nowhere — then let's see if you'd be planning a coup in sixty seconds," she retorted.
"You know what—." She stood slowly on shaky legs, white dots dancing at the edge of her vision. She kept her eyes on Xander as she spoke. "—I think I'll peruse these documents in private and let you know if I want anything changed."
Harry answered once again before Xander could.
"The earlier the conference is held the better. We already started moves online, a press release would solidify that. You understand why that matters, right?"
Isabella chewed hard on her lip, looking torn. After a while, she spoke again. "I think I'm going to let Mr. Guapo handle this."
"Who's that?" Xander asked with a puzzled frown.
"Why?" Harry's voice was gruff and when Isabella turned to him, his eyes were steely.
*Because Father said so.*
"Because I want to. Got a problem with that?"
He scoffed. "Whatever, Montez."
Isabella watched him stalk out of the sitting room and imagined that the ground would be shaking with his fury if this was a movie.
*What is he so angry about? If anyone should be in a mood here, that should be me!*
She could feel the return of suffocating pressure but this time, weirdly enough, she felt like she had help.
*Well. There is Xander and María. And...him?*
She gave María and Xander an apologetic glance. "I need a Moment to think but I'm going to make sure to get Mr. Guapo on this right away."
Xander shook his head. "Take your time."
Isabella thanked him quietly. Her eyes met with María's —swimming with worry and questions. She excused herself to the guest room, needing to breathe.
She couldn't get to the room fast enough. Once she did, she locked the door, slid down the back of it and broke. But this time… she didn't feel completely alone.