Isabelle’s POV
The city skyline stretched out beyond the restaurant windows, a glittering illusion of peace. Inside, soft music played, waiters moved smoothly between tables, and elegant laughter filled the air. It was the kind of place designed to make people forget their troubles.
But I wasn’t here to forget.
I was here to remind Damion that he didn’t own me.
Brian sat across from me, his expression warm but observant. He had dressed well—dark suit, open collar, the perfect balance of casual and refined. He looked like a man who had his life together. A man who wasn’t haunted by the past.
Unlike Damion.
“So,” Brian said, leaning forward slightly. “You never did tell me why you suddenly wanted to have dinner.”
I smiled, swirling my wine glass. “Can’t a woman enjoy good food with a
