"Hello?"

The voice on the other end was hoarse, laced with fatigue and something colder—resentment.

Isabella inhaled sharply, closing her eyes like the sound alone had struck her heart. “Isla! Oh, my God, you’re alive!”

“Unfortunately,” Isla snapped. “I see you’ve been disturbing my phone like a lunatic. What, you called to know if I’m dead or not so you can move your next pawn into place?”

The bitterness in her tone cut deeper than Isabella expected. “Isla, don’t say that. I was concerned! I heard about the crash and—”

“And what? You thought you could lose your precious puppet, and now you’re panicking? Save it. You’re not calling because...