𝒯𝓌𝑜 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒. 𝒯𝓌𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈. 𝒯𝓌𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓈.
Isabella Leighton, a 23-year-old aspiring lawyer, unexpectedly lands a job working for the most prominent CEO in New York. While she doesn't align with his lifestyle, the generous sa...
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ISABELLA
While perched at the bar, I found myself chuckling inwardly, realizing that this marked my second visit here. However, this time, it wasn't merely due to a minor argument with Asher that could be resolved; I needed to brace myself to let go of him completely.
Playing with the tiny glass in my grip, I caught sight of the bartender's discreet gaze fixed on me, probably intrigued by my appearance.
I had donned a snug cotton tank top and matching shorts I found in Asher's bathroom, reluctantly teaming them up with my black high heels.
"May I have a glass of water, please?" I asked, to which the bartender promptly prepared and delivered with a lemon slice, indicating her recollection of my previous visit.
I pushed the smaller glass aside, taking a slight sip of the water before casting a glance out the window, where I observed the sudden rainstorm that had descended.
Abruptly, a voice I recognized emanated from the corner of the room where a television was mounted, and that unmistakable voice belonged to Kady.
"Many of us are curious, what's the current status between you and Mr. Petrov?" The reporters question made me uneasy, not because of his prior actions, but because no matter what he did, I still wanted him.
I shook my head, fixating my gaze on the lemon perched atop my glass, determined to dispel thoughts of him from my mind, knowing that regardless of our actions, there was no reversing the past.
"Our divorce is officially done," her grating voice seemed to intensify as I struggled to drown out the surrounding clamor. "But that doesn't signify the end for us." Her words sent a chill down my spine.
Since leaving his place, I had clung to the hope that his words were merely meant to inflict pain, not reality. However, hearing Kady's statement made me question whether he had been telling the truth all along.
I berated myself for believing I could change a man like him—a man so hurt and disillusioned that he believed he only deserved those who had caused him pain.
Taking another sip of my water, I caught sight of a figure settling onto the stool beside me in my peripheral vision. Choosing to disregard their presence, I stayed focused on the television.
"So, you're suggesting that neither of you has completely moved on from your relationship?" The reporter's tone resembled that of a middle school girl gossiping at the lunch table and I couldn't resist letting out a laugh.
Kady's expression momentarily wavered, caught by the zoomed-in camera, but she swiftly regained her composure, her haughty demeanor returning. "We've both explored other options," she stated with a smile, her eyes subtly narrowing, as they often did. "But no matter what, we'll inevitably gravitate back to each other."
