"So he's out there running wild, and you're just going to turn a blind eye?"
Isabella remained silent.
Tyler, however, slammed his glass down in frustration.
"At the end of the day, you still have feelings for Dana."
"For that old man!"
"If you're so hung up on him, what are you even doing with me?!"
He turned to storm off.
Isabella finally rose, pulling him into her lap with an easy smile.
"Why would I have feelings for him?"
Her voice was languid, unhurried.
"Dana hasn't actually done anything. Those girls he's been seeing? They're just props—tools to get a rise out of me."
"I know him better than he knows himself. He has lines he won't cross."
"The day he actually went through with something like that, he'd stop being Dana."
Laughter rippled through the private room.
Tyler still wasn't convinced.
"Just because you say so doesn't make it true."
"Do you have surveillance footage or something? How can you be so sure?!"
His voice pitched into a petulant whine, which only made Isabella chuckle. She set her phone on the table.
"See for yourself."
On her phone—
Every chat log between me and all ten of those women. Every single date we'd ever had, recorded on video, filed away down to the last second in her phone's folders.
Isabella's voice was light. Casual. And it froze me to the bone.
"Men."
"All that jealousy drama gets tedious. Dana wanted to play games, so I found him some playmates."
"Sure."
"At first, he genuinely wanted someone who understood him—someone who'd see how hard things were for him. But the moment any of them actually tried anything—"
She tapped one of the videos.
It was my third girlfriend, leaning in to kiss me. I pushed her away, guilt written all over my face. "I'm sorry. I just... can't."
Then I told her:
"Let's break up."
Isabella pointed at the screen.
"Dana."
"Traditional to his core. Morality above all else."
"He's incapable of crossing that line. This whole thing was just to provoke me."
She opened WeChat, scrolling to a conversation. My seventh girlfriend—reporting back to her.
"Ms. Fox, just as you predicted. The moment I suggested getting a room, he looked at me like I disgusted him. Said I only wanted him for his body. He broke up with me on the spot."
"Ms. Fox."
"Should I keep pursuing him?"
I remembered that girl.
We'd shared so much—a love for painting, for art, even for cheesy anime. After six weeks together, she suddenly asked if we should get a room.
Her hand landed on my shoulder, fingers creeping toward my collar, and my body rejected it before my mind caught up. I doubled over and vomited right there. Ended things immediately.
That night.
I stumbled back to the villa in a wrecked state—only to find Isabella waiting in the living room.
That half-amused expression of hers settled over me like a net, cataloguing every shred of my humiliation. Shame burned through me, but what I hated more was that I still couldn't take that step. I broke down sobbing.
Then Isabella pulled me into her arms.
"Dana."
"Still want to keep playing?"
A perfume that wasn't mine curled into my nostrils.
I looked up—and saw the red marks on her neck. The lipstick smeared on her collar.
My stomach heaved. I vomited directly onto her.
Disgust twisted her features. She stripped off her jacket and threw it at my feet.
"Dana."
"How long are you going to keep this up?"
"Yes, I cheated."
"But haven't I given you everything you wanted? You went from being a nobody—some nameless village kid—to Mr. James. Everyone envies you. Everyone says you hit the jackpot. What more could you possibly want?!"
I stared up at Isabella, towering above me.
I had never seen her look so foreign. So unrecognizable. And something inside me finally shattered enough to speak.
