ISABELLA
I don’t remember how I made it down the stairs.
My legs moved, but I couldn’t feel them. My lungs expanded, but no air reached them. My heart beat, but every pulse felt like a knife twisting deeper.
It couldn’t be him.
It couldn’t be Adrian.
But the voice—
The silhouette—
The way he said her name—
My stomach twisted violently.
I reached the bottom of the staircase and gripped the railing so hard my knuckles turned white. The ballroom lights blurred into streaks of gold and white. The music, once elegant and soothing, now felt like a cruel joke — too bright, too cheerful, too loud.
I was drowning.
And no one knew.
“Mrs. Salvatore?”
I flinched.
Tobias stood a few feet away, his expression sharp, his eyes scanning my face like he was reading a crime scene.
“You’re pale
