ISABELLA
The clock finally hit 6:00 PM, and I was more than ready to escape this nightmare of a day. I quickly tidied my desk, organising files and shutting down my computer with slightly trembling hands. My new outfit still felt foreign, too tight, too revealing, and the constant stares had drained every ounce of energy I had left.
I grabbed my bag and headed towards the elevator, praying I could make it out without any more drama, but of course, the universe had other plans. Just as I reached the elevator lobby, Alexander Moreau appeared beside me, standing a little too close. He leaned against the wall with that polished, arrogant smile of his.
“Heading out already, Isabella?” he asked smoothly, his French-accented voice dripping with charm. “You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you,
