Vincent stormed out of the room. His frustration was boiling over. He drove back to the suite where he had insisted Isabella stay for her own safety. As he opened the door, he was met with a sight that made his heart sink.
Isabella was slumped over on the couch, an empty bottle of wine on the table beside her. Her eyes were glazed, and she looked up at Vincent in confusion and sadness.
"Vincent... why are you here?" she slurred, her voice barely above a whisper.
Vincent's anger melted away, traded for a deep concern for her. He knelt beside her, gently taking her hand.
"Isabella, what happened? Why did you drink so much?" he asked softly, his eyes searching hers for answers.
Isabella shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "I just... I couldn't handle it. Everything is so messed
