Isabel’s POV
I watch Cynthia’s retreating figure, her confident stride infuriating me further as her words echo in my mind. My hands clench at my sides, the anger rising like a tide. I had kept my composure during the conversation, but now, alone with my thoughts, the fury simmers dangerously close to boiling over.
Her smugness lingers, like a bitter aftertaste. I replay the conversation in my mind, each word of hers fueling my anger further. My jaw tightens, my thoughts spiraling.
“Ma’am?” Christine’s soft voice pulls me from my thoughts. I glance sideways to see her watching me patiently, her sharp eyes catching the tension radiating from me. She says nothing, but I can tell she’s waiting for a cue.
I exhale deeply, forcing myself to let go of the anger, at least outwardly. “Let’s go
