The Forbidden Game

The Other Side

Isabella

The voice on the other end of the line was calm. Too calm. Like she had been expecting my call.

"You called," Mia said.

I gripped the phone tighter. "You knew I would."

"I hoped you would." A pause. "Where are you?"

"Outside Cole's building."

"Then you've already heard his version."

I didn't answer.

Mia let out a breath. "I'm not going to lie to you, Isabella. Cole isn't a bad man. But he's not innocent either."

"Tell me what you know."

"Not over the phone. Meet me. Tomorrow. Noon. The café on 5th and Vine. Come alone."

The line went dead.

I spent the rest of the night tossing and turning.

Every time I closed my eyes, I heard Mia's voice. "He's not innocent either." What did that mean? What was Cole hiding? I thought about the way he had looked at me when he confessed everything—raw, vulnerable, afraid. It had felt real. But Mia's warning lingered, a splinter I couldn't remove.

I reached for my phone. Typed his name. Stared at it.

I wanted to text him. Wanted to ask him why he hadn't told me about Emily. Wanted to hear his voice and decide if I believed him.

But I didn't.

I set the phone down and stared at the ceiling until morning.

Morning came too quickly.

I dragged myself out of bed, my body heavy with exhaustion. I stared at my reflection—dark circles, tired eyes, a woman who had no idea who to trust.

I didn't bother with makeup. Didn't bother pretending I was fine.

I just got dressed and left.

The café was quiet when I arrived.

It was a small place tucked between two buildings, the kind of spot that felt hidden from the rest of the world. I spotted Mia in the corner booth, nursing a cup of coffee. She looked different in the daylight. Softer. Less threatening.

"You came," she said.

"Like you said I would."

She nodded. "Sit."

I slid into the booth across from her.

"Tell me the truth," I said. "All of it."

Mia set down her coffee. "I worked for Cole's father for eight years. I saw everything. The deals. The threats. The people he destroyed. And Cole—he knew about it."

"He was a kid—"

"He was eighteen when he walked away. Old enough to fight back. Old enough to stop it." She shook her head. "But he didn't. He ran. And he's been running ever since."

I felt my chest tighten. "So why warn me?"

Mia looked at me, her gaze steady. "Because I've seen what happens to women who get close to him. He uses them. He destroys them. He does it without even meaning to."

"You're wrong about him."

"Am I?" Mia raised an eyebrow. "Did he tell you about the woman before you? The one he was engaged to?"

The question hit me like a physical blow. I opened my mouth, but no words came.

"He didn't, did he." Mia shook her head slowly. "Her name was Emily. She loved him. She trusted him. And he left her with nothing. No explanation. No goodbye. Just a note and an empty apartment."

I felt the air leave my lungs. "That doesn't mean—"

"I know he told you about his father. I know he made himself vulnerable with you. And I think he meant it." She paused. "But I also know that he hasn't changed. He's still running. And when he gets scared, he runs away. He'll do it to you too."

"Then you don't know who he is now—"

"I know exactly who he is." Her voice softened. "He's a man who's so terrified of becoming his father that he'll burn anyone close to him to stay away from the fire."

I didn't know what to say.

The silence stretched between us. I could hear the faint hum of the café around us—the clink of cups, the murmur of conversation. But it all felt distant, muffled, like I was underwater.

Mia reached across the table and touched my hand. "I'm not telling you this to hurt you, Isabella. I'm telling you because you deserve to know the truth. Before you get in any deeper. Before you end up like Emily."

I walked out of the café in a daze.

The sunlight felt harsh against my skin. Everything felt wrong. My head was spinning, my chest heavy with doubt.

Emily.

He had never told me about her. Never mentioned her once. And that silence—it felt like a lie.

I thought about what Mia said. "He left her with nothing. No explanation. No goodbye." Was that who Cole really was? A man who ran when things got hard?

But then I thought about the way he had looked at me last night. The way he had said, "It's always been about you." That had felt real. That had felt like the truth.

I didn't know what to believe anymore.

I walked for a long time.

Through the busy streets, past the shops and the cafes and the people living their ordinary lives. I envied them. I envied how simple their lives seemed. How uncomplicated.

I stopped at a small park and sat on a bench, staring at the fountain in the center of the square.

My phone buzzed.

Cole: Can we talk?

I stared at the screen.

My thumb hovered over the keyboard.

I thought about Emily. About the note he left. About the empty apartment.

I thought about the way he had looked at me. The way he had said, "It's always been about you."

I didn't know what to believe anymore.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket.

And I didn't answer.