Chapter 183

Chapter 183
ISABELLA

She stood suddenly, knees trembling, and then knelt down in front of me. Her arms wrapped around me, and I felt her whole body quake as she pressed her forehead to mine. We both cried — ugly, wet, hiccupping sobs that shook the air between us.
I clutched her as though she were an anchor in a storm I had been trapped in for years. My chest heaved, my breath came out in gasps, and for the first time in forever, I felt something inside me unfurl.
The pain I had been carrying all these years began to evaporate — not completely, but enough for me to breathe again. I felt my heart knit itself together, stitching at the seams like something broken finally finding its shape, finding closure. A piece of peace. Understanding. Clarity.
It washed through me, altering everything. I felt seen, valid, in tune with myself again — as if the universe whispered, you’ve survived. The tears slowed on their own, not because I forced them to stop, but because my body seemed to say, it’s enough now.
It’s a new beginning, my mind whispered. You’ve stitched the past. You’ve made it now. It’s clearer now. No more tears. Now you fight.
When we finally pulled apart, Charlotte laughed weakly through the mess of our tears. “Your makeup is ruined,” she said, her voice cracking with soft laughter. “We have to start over.” She swiped at her mascara-streaked cheeks, leaving smudges of black and red across her trembling fingers.
“Then I have to freshen up and do my makeup too because I’m coming with you. But don’t worry — you know I’ll be fast. Thirty minutes tops. I’ll even put on a movie you’ll like on Netflix while I do.”
“Have a new doctor show I can watch,” I teased.
“Yes, but I know you’ll still go back to watching House M.D.”
We both laughed. I was obsessed with that show — Wilson and Cuddy, the drama, the brilliance of it all, and of course the slow burn between House and Cuddy — that’s my ship for life. And the bromance with Wilson and Cuddy, Foreman, Cameron, Chase… all of them. For a fleeting second, I felt alive again.
“Girl, you know me,” I said, still smiling through the remnants of tears. “You can’t believe I haven’t watched a movie in years, except the ones my siblings force me to watch. Sappy soaps, by the way, or all these vampire movies.”
“Girl, same,” she said, holding both my hands. “I’m glad I have my bestie back.” She squealed.
“Girllllll!” I flipped my hair back, and we burst into laughter. It felt so good — freeing — like we were shedding all the heaviness that had been weighing us down.
I smiled faintly, brushing away the last of my tears. “I missed this — you making me up, scolding me because I have bad taste in dresses, and me always crying halfway through.”
“I missed it too,” she said softly, her voice heavy with old affection. Her fingers reached up to wipe the dampness from under my eyes — careful now, tender.
For a long moment, we just breathed. Then I said quietly, “Levi has no memory of the year he became CEO — the year we spent together. He has no memory of me or anything that happened. I wonder if he knows he was Mr. L, ’cause his account is deactivated.”
Charlotte’s eyes snapped open wide. “Wait — what?”
“At first, I thought he was faking it,” I murmured. “When we met again at the club, he looked at me like I was a stranger. I thought it was some cruel game — that he was punishing me. Then he offered me a contract to marry him for a million dollars, accused me of fraud, claimed I had been acting all along just to get close to him.”
Charlotte blinked, dazed. “Wait, wait — what? A bar? A contract? A million dollars? Isabella, what the hell is going on?”
I exhaled shakily, staring at my trembling hands. “Mr. Antonio is using Levi’s memory loss as leverage. I have to find a way to make him remember… or at least make him trust me again.”
Charlotte stared like she couldn’t process a single thing I was saying. “You’re telling me the man who once worshipped you can’t even remember your face?”
I nodded weakly. “That’s not even the worst part. Franco — he’s alive. And in New York. And I have every reason to believe he was the traitor back then — the one who tampered with our cars. He is in cahoots with Mr. Antonio. That bastard had a knife on my neck a few hours ago.”
“What the hell,” Charlotte gasped. “Franco? Alive? In New York? A knife? That bastard. I never liked him. Every time you told me about him, I remember saying I had a weird feeling about that man — turns out I was right. What does he even stand to gain in all this? Money? Is it worth it? Power? A promotion? Such a loser. Bitch, I feel like we’re in an alternate reality right now. At least one of us has an interesting life.”
I laughed through the lump in my throat. “Am I the drama, or does the drama just keep following me?”
“Girl, the drama is you,” she said, grinning now. “It follows wherever you go.”
I laughed again — really laughed this time — at the old joke that used to fill our small apartment when we were younger and stupidly hopeful.
“Girl,” I breathed, shaking my head, “a lot has been going on.”