She was about to hit send when her phone rang Lexi calling, Jade already conferenced in.
She answered on speaker.
"Dora, don't," Lexi said immediately, voice sharp. "I know that look. You're thinking about DMing the kid, aren't you?"
Isadora paused, thumb freezing. "How the hell..."
"You're predictable when you're scheming," Lexi cut in.
"Not now. Let him get more eager. He's already stalking your profile like it's his religion. The longer you make him wait, the deeper he falls. Then when you finally reply? He'll be putty. You rush it, he gets spooked or tells his sister."
Jade's laugh crackled through the line.
"She's right. Play the long game. Let the little simp marinate. He'll spill more when he's desperate for your attention."
Isadora exhaled through her nose, deleting the draft. "Fine. Waiting it is."
The three of them laughed low, conspiratorial, the kind of laugh that felt like shared power.
Then Jade's tone shifted, teasing, edged with curiosity.
"Okay, but speaking of desperate… you were tense as fuck last time we asked. So let me try this time. No dodging, Dora. What exactly happened in that car that night? No hiding. Spill."
Lexi jumped in instantly, voice gleeful.
"Yeah, I'm fucking eager. Did you fuck her? Like, full-on? Or was it just heavy petting and tears?"
Isadora leaned back against the headboard, eyes half-lidded, replaying the memory in vivid flashes: Rowan's back arching off the seat, the wet sounds of her finger moving inside, the way Rowan had shattered saying her name like a prayer and a curse.
She smiled slow, wicked, private.
"Let's just say… I got inside her," she said, voice low and deliberate.
"One finger. Slow at first. Then faster. She tried to stop me... hands on my wrist, whining 'too fast'...but she was dripping, clenching around me like she never wanted me to leave. Came so hard she screamed my name. Twice. And after? She let me clean her up with my tongue because the wipes hurt too much. Fell asleep. Held my hand the whole time."
Silence on the line for a beat then Lexi let out a low whistle.
"Holy shit, Dora."
Jade laughed again, darker this time. "You really claimed her, huh? No wonder she ran screaming the next morning."
Isadora's thumb traced the faint mark Rowan had left on her own collarbone... barely visible now, but she could still feel it.
"Yeah," she murmured.
"I claimed her. And she knows it. That's why she's hiding behind scrubs and lies right now. But she can't hide forever."
Lexi's voice softened, just a fraction. "You still want her back?"
Isadora's eyes flicked to her phone screen... Noah's unread messages still waiting.
"I want her begging for it next time," she said quietly.
"No more mistakes. No more running. She'll come to me. And when she does… I won't let her leave."
Jade chuckled. "That's our Dora. Patient predator."
They laughed again three voices in perfect sync.
Isadora ended the call, set the phone down.
She didn't reply to Noah.
Not tonight.
But she opened his profile one last time his innocent bio, his school photos, his reposts of her expo clips.
Soon.
Very soon.
She'd make him useful.
>>>>>>>>>
Rowan pushed open the front door, the familiar creak of the hinges greeting her like an old friend.
The smell of Clara's chicken soup still lingered in the air, mixed now with something warmer fresh coffee and the faint floral perfume Mrs. Delgado always wore.
She froze in the entryway.
Carlos was already there.
He sat on the living room couch beside his aunt, Mrs. Delgado's smile warm but expectant.
Carlos looked up the moment Rowan stepped in, offering that easy, polite smile he always wore around family. But his eyes flickered something guarded behind them.
"Rowan, mija!" Mrs. Delgado rose immediately, arms open.
She pulled Rowan into a quick, perfumed hug, then held her at arm's length, studying her face. "You look tired, querida. Long shift?"
Rowan managed a small nod, forcing her lips to curve. "Yeah. Busy day. Hi, Carlos."
"Hey," he said softly, standing too. He didn't move closer just a nod, hands in his pockets.
The bruise on his jaw from Isadora's punch had faded to a faint yellow shadow, but Rowan's stomach twisted anyway at the sight.
Clara appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel, beaming like this was the most normal evening in the world.
"Come sit, both of you," Clara said, gesturing to the couch.
"Mrs. Delgado brought empanadas. We were just talking about how nice it was that you two finally went out properly."
Mrs. Delgado settled back down, patting the cushion beside her for Rowan to join. Rowan sat carefully, keeping space between her and Carlos while Clara poured coffee for everyone.
"So," Mrs. Delgado said, eyes sparkling with that gentle matchmaker gleam she'd had since the day she'd first introduced them months ago.
"Tell us about the date! Carlos has been so quiet about it. Was the restaurant nice? Did you have fun?"
Carlos shifted slightly. His fingers tightened around his mug.
He remembered everything: the lights flashing, Isadora storming in like a hurricane, the crack of her fist against his jaw, the way Rowan had dragged him out, apologetic and tense.
He remembered the ride back to the home and the way Rowan had barely looked at him after.
He stayed quiet.
Rowan cleared her throat, forcing brightness into her voice.
"It was… good," she said. "The restaurant was lovely. We talked a lot. Just… got caught up in conversation."
Carlos glanced at her quick, grateful then nodded.
"Yeah," he added, voice steady. "It was nice. Rowan's great company."
Mrs. Delgado clasped her hands together.
"See? I knew you two would get along. You both work so hard... doctors, lawyers, saving the world. You deserve someone who understands that life."
Clara smiled warmly, reaching over to squeeze Rowan's knee.
"I'm just glad you both had a good time. After everything… it's nice to see you relaxing a little, Ro."
Rowan's smile felt like it might crack her face.
"Yeah," she echoed. "Good time."
The lie sat heavy in her chest, thick, choking. She could still feel Isadora's fingers inside her, the way her name had torn out of her throat in the dark.
Could still see the fury and hurt in Isadora's eyes when she'd shoved her away the next morning.
Carlos met her gaze across the coffee table just for a second. Something unspoken passed between them: 'We're both lying. We both know why.'
Mrs. Delgado chattered on about Carlos's latest case, about how Rowan should take more time off, about how perfect they looked together.
Rowan nodded at all the right moments.
But her heart thudded unevenly, too aware of the silence beneath the polite conversation.
Carlos stayed quiet.
She stayed quiet.
>>>>>>>>
Isadora walked into the formal dining room at exactly 7:00 p.m. ...something she hadn't done in years.
No slammed doors, no skipped meals, no storming out mid-argument.
She wore a simple black cashmere sweater and tailored trousers, hair loose but neat, no makeup except a touch of nude lipstick. Quiet. Controlled. Present.
The long mahogany table was set for five: Marcus at the head, Everett to his right, Bianca opposite Everett, Ryan beside Bianca.
The chandelier cast soft golden light over crystal glasses and silver cutlery. Conversation paused the moment she entered.
She took her usual seat left of Marcus without fanfare.
"Good evening," she said evenly, unfolding her napkin across her lap.
Everett's sharp eyes flicked over her. He grunted acknowledgment, not warmth.
Dinner began in near-silence: soup served, wine poured. Bianca tried small talk about the weather, Ryan made a pointed comment about "recent headlines finally dying down."
Isadora answered politely when spoken to, short and neutral. She didn't rise to bait. Didn't snap. Didn't leave.
Halfway through the main course roast lamb, perfectly medium-rare ...Marcus set his fork down.
He looked at Everett first, then at Isadora.
"She's been trying too hard," he said quietly, voice carrying the weight of rare approval.
"Board meetings. Expo prep. No slip-ups. No scandals. She's showing up every day. Doing the work. I think we should acknowledge that."
The table stilled.
Ryan's fork froze midway to his mouth. His jaw tightened visibly face hardening into something cold and resentful.
He stared at his plate like it had personally betrayed him.
Bianca jumped in quickly, smile too bright, voice syrupy.
"Of course she's trying," she said.
"But let's be fair Ryan's been helping with the PR strategy behind the scenes. He's the one who suggested toning down the social media response, keeping it minimal. He deserves some credit for guiding the narrative."
Everett's head turned slowly toward Bianca.
Then toward Isadora.
He studied her for a long beat eyes narrowed, assessing.
When he spoke, it wasn't soft. But it wasn't the usual venom either. Just blunt. Measured.
"No," he said.
"The girl's the one who walked into those meetings. The one who stood up to the board. The one who proposed the expo counter-strategy and got it passed. Ryan may have whispered suggestions, but she executed. Credit goes where it's earned."
Ryan's knuckles whitened around his knife. He didn't speak. Didn't need to his face said everything: fury, humiliation, the sting of being sidelined in front of the patriarch.
Bianca's smile faltered, lips pressing into a thin line. She reached for her wine glass, took a too-long sip.
Marcus gave the smallest nod almost imperceptible toward Isadora.
Isadora didn't smile. Didn't gloat. She simply met Everett's gaze.
"Thank you," she said quietly. No sarcasm. No triumph. Just acknowledgment.
Everett grunted again his version of "don't get cocky" and returned to his meal.
The rest of dinner passed in strained civility.
Ryan barely spoke again. Bianca overcompensated with compliments about the food. Marcus watched everything in silence.
When dessert was cleared, Isadora stood first polite, composed.
"If you'll excuse me, I have expo notes to review."
Everett waved a hand permission granted.
She left the room without looking back.
Upstairs, in the hallway outside her door, she paused.
She could still hear the low murmur of voices below Ryan's sharp whisper, Bianca's placating tone, Marcus's noncommittal hum.
A small, cold smile touched her lips.
They thought she was trying too hard.
They had no idea.
She was just warming up.
>>>>>>>>
Clara set her coffee mug down with a soft clink, smile widening as she looked between Rowan and Carlos.
"You know," she said warmly, "you two should really start thinking about marriage now. You're both settled in your careers, you get along so well, and honestly it would make everyone so happy. Mrs. Delgado and I were just saying how perfect you look together."
Mrs. Delgado nodded enthusiastically, leaning forward with clasped hands.
"Exactly, Clara. Carlos has always been such a good boy responsible, kind. And Rowan, mija, you're brilliant. A doctor and a lawyer? You'd build such a strong family. We could have the wedding in the spring small, intimate, but beautiful. I already have ideas for the venue."