Avela’s POV
“What the hell are you doing in my office?”
The words ripped out of me before I could stop them. Sharp. Raw. My hands were already balled into fists at my sides.
Isabella didn’t flinch. She didn’t even blink. That same slow, poisonous smirk stayed glued to her mouth like she’d been practicing it in the mirror for years.
She tilted her head, studying me the way someone studies a wounded animal they’re about to put down.
“Oh dear,” she drawled, voice dripping with fake sympathy. “You’ve really been living the fairy tale, haven’t you? An older woman and a younger man. How sweet. How…romantic.”
My stomach twisted so violently I almost tasted bile.
“Get out,” I said. Low. Dangerous. “I don’t want to hear what you have to say.”
She laughed—soft, breathy, like I’d told the fun
