Avela’s POV
“You’re lying.”
The words came out small, almost pleading, like if I said them hard enough they could push reality back into the shape it was supposed to have.
Isabella’s lips curved, slow and satisfied, the way a cat looks when it finally catches the bird it’s been watching for hours.
“Lying?” she repeated, soft, almost tender. “Oh, sweetheart. I knew you’d say that. You’re far too gone to believe your perfect boyfriend could ever lie to you.”
She tilted her head, eyes gleaming with something close to pity.
“But don’t worry. I didn’t come empty-handed.”
She turned smoothly, reached into her sleek black bag, and pulled out a cream-colored envelope. Thick. Expensive-looking. The kind of thing that should hold wedding invitations, not heartbreak.
She held it out to me.
I
