Isabelle’s POV
Three days had passed since the gala.
Three quiet, measured days, where I carefully stacked my schedule with everything but stillness. Meetings. School drop-offs. Calls. Planning an expansion proposal that had sat untouched for over six months.
Anything to keep myself from thinking too much.
Anything to keep myself from remembering the way Damion looked at me.
Because even now, I could still feel it.
That look of remorse, yes—but something else, too. Something deeper. Something closer to… hope.
And that was the most dangerous thing of all.
Hope.
Hope was what made women like me return to broken places with stitched hearts and second chances.
And I wasn’t ready for that.
Not again.
⸻
Nathan had asked about him again.
We were on the balcony Saturday morning. The
