Epilogue
ISABELLE
The night had been going so well.
Good food. Excellent wine. My family gathered in one place for once, which was practically a miracle given our collective talent for avoiding each other.
Sebastian was nervous about something—I could tell by the way he kept touching his jacket pocket—and Xavier couldn't stop staring at Kim like she hung the moon. Even Grandmother seemed pleased, which was rare enough to be noteworthy.
I'd been enjoying myself. Truly. Not performing ‘enjoyment’ the way I usually did at family events. I was actually, genuinely having a good time.
And then he walked in.
Because of course, he did.
My fingers tightened around my champagne flute. The room didn't stop. The music didn't screech to a halt. No one else noticed the ground shifting beneath my feet.
Just me.
I watched him move through the crowd, shaking hands, smiling that devastating smile I knew too well. The one that had convinced half of London society he was charming rather than dangerous.
He hadn't seen me yet. Or maybe he had and was pretending he hadn't.
That would be just like Femi. Always the performer. Always in control.
We had that in common, once.
Three years. Three years of building a life that didn't include him. Three years of proving I didn't need anyone, least of all a man who'd made me forget every rule I'd ever set for myself.
I was fine now. Whole. Complete. I had my boutiques, my brand, my independence. I'd built an empire with my own two hands, and I hadn't needed Femi Davies to do it.
So why did seeing him feel like the ground had shifted beneath my Louboutins?
So why couldn't I breathe?
He turned. Our eyes met across the room.
My heart stopped. Started again. Faster now.
I looked away first. Hated myself for it.
The champagne had gone warm in my hand. I set it down on the nearest table and smoothed the front of my dress, burgundy silk, bias-cut, chosen specifically because it made me look powerful and untouchable.
I straightened my spine. Lifted my chin. Became, once again, Isabelle Dubois—fashion mogul, family powerhouse, a woman who answered to no one.
Not princess. Never princess. I'd fought too hard to be reduced to a title that implied I needed saving.
But my hands were shaking.
And Femi Davies had always been the one thing I couldn't control.
He was here. After everything, after all this time, he was here.
What the hell was I going to do about it?
Isabelle’s story continues in Shattered Oath