Isabel stared at him like he had just grown a second head.
"I'm sorry, what?" she said, blinking, “your wife?"
Isaac didn’t even flinch. His voice was calm and collected, like he wasn’t just dropping a bomb in the middle of dinner.
He turned toward Lena, "contact our media rep, arrange a full press conference for tomorrow morning. I want it quiet and clean, no third-party journalists, just our outlets."
Lena nodded, already pulling her phone out as she stepped back toward the hallway.
Isaac shifted slightly, his eyes brushing Isabel only once before he turned.
"You’ll get more compensation," he said flatly, already walking out of the dining room.
And just like that, he was gone.
Isabel sat there frozen, fork still in her hand, eyes wide.
"Did he just..?" she turned sharply to Lena
