Now, as my brother’s eyes widened in disbelief, scanning through the texts I had just handed over to him, I felt a quiet resolve settling within me. I didn’t need to read his expression to know that he was seeing Isabella’s betrayal unfold before him. His marriage, my resume, my future—all suddenly intertwined in an unexpected plot twist that none of us could have predicted.
“I’m sorry, Chloe,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly, still keeping an eye on Isabella who was now visibly pale. Her confidence had evaporated, replaced by sheer panic as she realized the gravity of the situation.
“Let’s just get through dinner,” I suggested calmly, sliding my phone back, locking eyes with Isabella with newfound authority. “We’ll talk later.”
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