Why do women always make life harder for each other?
Isabella poured herself a glass of warm water, ready to take her medicine. Her head was still pounding. The doctor had said the first dose would help with the pain. She barely looked up when Susan rushed in, sounding anxious. Without a word, Isabella tossed back all the pills in one go and washed them down with half the glass.
Susan hurried over, her voice tense. “Isabella, you need to go upstairs, now. Sophia’s coming in. I’ll tell her you’re not home. If she thinks you’re out, she’ll get bored and leave.”
Isabella just looked at her, calm and steady. “Susan, this is my home with Ethan. Why should I be afraid of anyone in my own house?”
She truly didn’t care about Sophia. She’d gotten used to Sophia’s loud, clueless drama. That was the old Isabella. Now, she was different.
Susan opened her mouth to say more, but Sophia barged in before she could. Sophia spotted Isabella on the sofa and marched over, calling out, “Isabella, go get me some water. It’s so hot, I’m dying.”
Isabella didn’t move. Her attention shifted to the woman walking in behind Sophia, someone she’d never seen before—not in this life or the last. The woman looked at Isabella and gave a polite, gentle smile. Everything about her—her elegant clothes, her graceful posture—screamed old money. She had a limited-edition Hermès bag dangling from her arm, definitely worth more than the one Isabella owned. In her other hand, she carried several gift bags. Clearly, she was here to visit.


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