Chapter 1
Isabelle
I hate men.
No...
That wasn’t entirely true.
I hated one man.
Unfortunately for me, he was standing beneath an arch of white roses, smiling as though he hadn’t shattered my heart.
It was strange how quickly a room full of people could forget how to breathe.
Only minutes ago the ballroom had been alive with laughter, music, and the soft clink of champagne glasses. Now every conversation had dissolved into uneasy whispers as hundreds of eyes settled on me, each carrying a different emotion. Some looked uncomfortable. Some are openly curious. Most simply pitied me.
I hated that look.
Pity had always felt worse than cruelty. Cruelty at least acknowledged you were strong enough to survive it. Pity looked at you as though you were already broken.
Unfortunately for them… I wasn’t the one who had done something shameful tonight.
My gaze lifted to the stage almost against my will.
He was still standing there.
Of course he was.
Where else would he be?
I let out a quiet laugh, the sound so hollow it barely resembled my own. A few guests exchanged awkward glances while someone near the front quickly looked away, pretending not to have heard me.
Good.
Let them be uncomfortable.
I was tired of being the only one carrying the weight of this evening.
“You know...” I murmured, my voice calm enough that only he would hear it. “For someone who thinks so highly of himself...” I tilted my head ever so slightly, forcing the faintest smile onto my lips. “...you’re actually quite disappointing.”
His jaw tightened.
It wasn’t much, but it was something.
At least one of us still felt uncomfortable.
Because mine… mine had been torn apart in front of half of Milan.
I drew in a slow breath and let my eyes wander across the ballroom instead. White roses overflowed from crystal vases, candlelight danced across polished marble floors, and a string quartet continued playing as though nothing had happened.
It was beautiful.
Painfully beautiful.
The kind of perfection magazines loved to photograph. It should have been romantic.
Instead... it felt like a funeral.
Mine.
Funny how even heartbreak looked elegant when enough money was involved.
Someone quietly called my name.
I didn’t turn around.
I already knew who it was.
Aurora.
She’d tried so hard to stop me from coming tonight.
She’d offered lunch.
Coffee.
Anything to keep me away from this place for just a little longer.
When I insisted on coming home, she’d looked at me with tears she was trying desperately not to let fall and whispered that there was something I needed to know before I walked through those doors.
I asked her what it was.
She never answered.
Instead, she’d taken my hand and squeezed it so tightly it almost hurt.
“I can’t be the one to break your heart, babe.”
I should’ve listened to her.
I should’ve let her take me anywhere else.
Because if I had…
None of this would’ve happened.
