Isabel’s POV
I approach him slowly, the scent of his cologne hitting me before I even reach his side. My favorite. Of course. I wonder if he thinks wearing it will somehow make me admit to being Isabel, somehow soften me, and fall at his feet like I used to.
As if a mere fragrance could undo the damage. I scoff under my breath but force a neutral expression as I stop by him.
“Hello, Mr. Alexander,” I say evenly, offering a faint, professional smile.
His gaze sharpens. “Isabel—”
I arch a brow slightly, letting my lips curve into the faintest smile. “Claire,” I say coolly, correcting him with practiced ease. My gaze remains steady, piercing through his calm façade, daring him to challenge me.
I hold the moment for just a beat longer before brushing past him to take my seat, knowing ful
