Isabella held the pen for a moment longer than necessary.
Not out of hesitation.
But out of closure.
Her fingers were steady. Her breathing even. The room, with all its polished arrogance and quiet cruelty, had already lost its weight over her.
Diego leaned back in his chair, impatient. “Finally,” he muttered. “Let’s not make a ceremony out of it.”
…
👇 👇 👇 👇 👇
