Chapter 23
Anna's POV
When I approached the car window, Isabella looked up.
Her reaction was quick—the moment she saw me, a flash of wariness crossed her eyes, but it was immediately covered by politeness. That kind of politeness was ingrained in her bones, as natural as breathing.
"Hello," she said, her voice not loud but clear, carrying a kind of distant courtesy that wasn't particularly warm. "Can I help you?"
"Hello, Miss Isabella." I forced out my friendliest smile. "My name is Anna, Liam's... friend."
I paused when I said "friend."
Because I wasn't sure how to introduce myself.
What was my relationship with Liam? My cousin's boyfriend's... what? It sounded too distant, like I was trying too hard to establish a connection.
"Liam?" Isabella raised her eyebrows slightly. "How do you know my name?"
"I saw you at the reception tonight," I said. "You greeted Liam, and I happened to be standing nearby."
Isabella glanced at me, as if judging how credible my words were.
Then she lowered her gaze, looking back at her phone screen, her tone as flat as if she were talking about the weather.
"If you're here to say something on Liam's behalf, don't bother. I'm not interested in his affairs."
My heart tightened.
But she didn't roll up the window, nor did she drive me away.
She was just not interested.
Not interested meant there was still room.
I bent down, bringing my line of sight level with the car window, and spoke in a conversational tone: "Actually, I'm not here for Liam."
Isabella didn't look up, but her fingers stopped moving on her phone.
"I'm here for myself," I said.
That sentence made her fingers completely still.
She finally lifted her gaze from her phone and looked at me.
"Oh?"
"Do you know Elise?"
"I met her tonight," her tone remained flat. "The one in the black dress."
"Yes, that's her."
I crouched down outside the car window, making myself appear less aggressive.
"She's my cousin."
I had chosen this identity carefully—"cousin" was closer than "the woman living in the same house," but distant enough that Isabella wouldn't think I was speaking on Elise's behalf.
Isabella's expression didn't change.
But her body shifted slightly toward the car window.
That was a good sign.
She was listening.
"Elise and I grew up together," I began, my tone casual, as if chatting with a newly acquainted friend. "On the surface, she seems quite gentle, speaks softly, never argues with anyone. But if you live with her long enough, you'll discover she's really good at acting."
"Acting?"
"Yes." I smiled and lowered my voice. "Do you know how much money Liam has spent on her?"
Isabella didn't speak.
But her eyes changed.
From bored to slightly curious.
"Tuition, apartment, clothes, jewelry, living expenses—all paid for by Liam. These things add up to at least seven figures a year." I held up one finger. "But let me tell you, Elise never thinks she's spending Liam's money. She thinks Liam treats her well because of 'feelings.'"
I deliberately emphasized the word "feelings."
"She really thinks that?"
"Of course she does," I said. "And not only does she think that—she thinks she's the most important person to Liam."
Isabella's expression finally showed a slight crack.
Very subtle.
If I hadn't been watching her face the whole time, I wouldn't have noticed.
I continued: "You might find this ridiculous—a kept woman, what right does she have to think she's the most important person to Liam? I find it ridiculous too. But that's who Elise is. She lives in a fantasy of self-moved delusion, thinking that because Liam has been good to her for so many years, he must love her."
I paused.
Then I said the most crucial sentence of the night.
"And Liam does treat her differently."
"How so?"
"In the past, Liam never brought the women around him out to meet friends, never spent money on them. But Elise is different—Liam takes her to family dinners, brings her to friends' gatherings, buys her clothes and bags, even helps her deal with troubles at school."
I glanced at Isabella's expression.
Her fingers had completely left the phone screen, her hands folded together on the steering wheel.
"I don't know if Liam really likes her," I said, slowing my speech so every word landed in Isabella's ears, "but if you saw Liam's attitude toward her with your own eyes, you'd understand that she's indeed different from those other women."
Isabella was silent for a few seconds.
"What does this have to do with me?" she said.
Her tone was still cold.
But asking this question itself meant she had already started to care.
I pretended not to hear the defensiveness in her tone and continued in a relaxed manner: "Of course it's related. Aren't your family and Liam's family old friends? If you're going to be with Liam in the future—I'm just saying if—then you should know what kind of woman is around him."
"A woman who thinks she's his 'true love,' and a relationship he's spent seven years cultivating, isn't something that can be broken off just like that."
Isabella's lips pressed together slightly.
She didn't speak.
But I saw it.
Her fingernails tapped lightly on the steering wheel twice.
That was a habitual gesture when thinking.
She was digesting what I said.
"Why are you telling me all this?" Isabella finally spoke, her voice as calm as still water.
I had already prepared my answer.
"Because I can't stand it," I said. "Elise relies on that bit of 'special treatment' from Liam to act like a tyrant at home. She spends Liam's money, lives in the house Liam arranged for her, and then turns around and bosses my parents around. I want you to know what kind of person she is."
"You're related to her?" Isabella's tone carried a hint of playfulness.
"Cousins. But we don't get along."
"So you're telling me all this because you have a personal grudge against her."
She was too smart.
She directly exposed my motive.
But if I panicked, it would make my subsequent words lose credibility.
"Having a personal grudge is true," I admitted, looking frankly into her eyes, "but are the things I said false? You can judge for yourself."
Isabella looked at me for a long time.
That gaze was very quiet, very deep, as if peeling away my words layer by layer to see how much truth was hidden inside.
Then she lowered her eyes, looking back at her phone.
"Thank you for the reminder," she said.
Her tone was polite and distant.
"You're welcome." I stood up, patting non-existent dust off my skirt. "I should go back, or Liam will be looking for me."
I turned and walked two steps, then stopped, as if suddenly remembering something, and turned back to add one more sentence.
"By the way, tonight you can pay attention to Liam and Elise's interactions. Especially when Liam looks at her. Then you'll know I'm not talking nonsense."
With that, I left.
Without looking back.
But I smiled.
Because in that last glance back, I saw Isabella's fingers tap the steering wheel twice more.
She was thinking.
That was enough.