Isabella threw her sunglasses onto the floor, the glass shattering on impact. Her breathing was ragged, her face flushed with anger that refused to subside.

"How dare Damian slap me! And in front of that bitch, no less!" she hissed through clenched teeth.

She paced back and forth across the room, ruffling her half-styled hair. Shame, rage, and pain churned in her chest. Damian’s voice echoed in her mind—not defending her, but defending Elena.

“He prefers that woman... just because Elena gave birth to the Lancaster heir?”

Isabella swallowed the tears threatening to fall. Then her eyes landed on the phone screen on the table. She grabbed it quickly, opened...