ISABELLA
It had been exactly one month since that fateful night at The Serpent’s Den — the night my life split into two realities I still couldn’t quite balance.
Living in Rafael’s villa felt like being trapped in a beautiful dream I was too scared to wake up from. Every day was a careful performance: playing the quiet, efficient assistant at the office, then coming “home” to this luxurious cage where I waited for a man who might appear at any hour, demanding my complete surrender. Today, though, I had plans.
I stood in the massive walk-in closet, turning slowly in front of the full-length mirror. I’d chosen something casual but cute. High-waisted light-wash mom jeans that hugged my hips and ass, a soft white cropped tank top that showed a sliver of my stomach, and a light denim jacket
