Sitting in the Bugatti, outside his office, Harold sighed, knowing he was defeated. For the first time in life, something seeped right out of his grip, right over his face.
He thought he could always have everything, anything he would just pin point at but not Isabella and her forgiveness. He even knelt in front of her, almost begging and pleading. But he wasn’t mad at her for making him beg, but for the first time he actually understood her.
In fact, he appreciated her patience of still seeing his face, if it were for him he would’ve blown his own head for hurting himself that much. He knew how much hurt Isabella might be that she ever refused to let herself anywhere near her and decided to leave.
He wanted to follow her to Spain; or abduct her right away to make her stay but he als
