Isabelle started drinking.
She drank every day, from sunrise to sunset.
She stopped caring about company business altogether; projects fell through, and clients left.
When her business partner called to berate her, she hung up and kept drinking.
Charles came to see her once. She still lived in that big mansion, with empty wine bottles scattered all over the floor, and the curtains drawn tight.
"Isabelle, what's the point of this?" Charles stood in the doorway, refusing to step inside.
She leaned against the sofa, her gaze glazed and unfocused. "There's none..."
"Then why don't you pull yourself together?" Charles pushed further.
"For whom?" She smiled coldly, with a hint of self-deprecation. "Jimmy will never come back, and you will never come back to me either."
Charles was silen
