"Ugh... Where the hell am I?"
Isabella's voice came out dry and hoarse. She opened her eyes to an unfamiliar room, sunlight streaming through the curtains and making her already pounding head ache even more.
Then she saw the man beside her, asleep with his broad back turned to her. On the carpet, her bra lay tangled with a navy silk tie. A faint trace of Gucci Guilty Elixir lingered in the air.
Isabella's heart skipped.
Last night was her eighteenth birthday. Olivia had handed her a glass of champagne, saying, "Happy birthday, Izzy. This one's on me. Drink up."
After drinking it, everything became a blur—the spinning room, the heat in her body, and Olivia guiding her down a hotel hallway. Then came the beep of a keycard and the warmth of a man's body.
Isabella's face burned. Confused as she was, she remembered reaching for him herself and not pushing him away.
Looking at the unfamiliar room, everything suddenly made sense.
Olivia had drugged her.
This hadn't been an accident. It had been planned from the start.
Isabella didn't even bother looking at the man's face. She grabbed her clothes, dressed as quickly as she could, and rushed out.
She needed to get home.
She needed to confront Olivia.
*****
The moment Isabella opened the front door, she went straight to her father.
"Dad, Olivia drugged me last night. She put something in my champagne and—"
"Enough!"
Richard's roar cut her off. He stood from the sofa, his face dark with fury.
"Have you no shame? Sneaking off to a hotel with some man on your eighteenth birthday, and now you come home spitting lies? Do you have any idea what this does to our family's reputation?"
Isabella froze, her voice trembling with disbelief. "I'm not lying! She drugged me!"
Richard grabbed a stack of photographs from the table and threw them violently at her face.
The pictures scattered across the floor—shots of Isabella being guided through a hotel lobby, her head hanging limply against a man's shoulder.
"I don't remember what happened after that glass," Isabella whispered, tears stinging her eyes. "But Olivia did this to me!"
Olivia stepped down from the stairs, her eyes already filled with soft tears.
"Dad, please don't be harsh on Izzy... It's my fault. I spent my own savings last night buying those photos back so the tabloids wouldn't put them on the front page. I just wanted to protect her..."
"Look at your sister!" Richard pointed a trembling finger at Isabella. "She spent her own money cleaning up your disgusting mess before the press destroyed us! And you dare blame her?"
Isabella felt a cold drop in her stomach. "You believe her? Without even asking me what happened?"
"I believe what's right in front of my eyes!"
"Then what about me?" Isabella's voice cracked. "I came home expecting my father to protect me! But no matter what happens, she is always the innocent angel, and I'm always the disappointment!"
Richard's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Watch your tongue."
"Why? Because it's true?" Isabella laughed through her tears, despair washing over her. "You don't care if I was hurt! You only care about your precious reputation and your darling stepdaughter!"
SLAP!
The force of the blow snapped Isabella's face to the side. The room fell into a suffocating silence.
Richard's chest heaved with fury. "I was going to hand over your mother's inheritance today now that you're eighteen. Forget it. You don't deserve a single cent. You have nothing to do with this family anymore—get out!"
Isabella pressed a hand to her burning cheek. Then, her gaze fell upon the packed suitcase sitting by the staircase.
She stared at it for a long moment.
So they had already decided.
Before she even came home.
She wiped the tears from her face and looked at Richard with cold, lifeless eyes.
"Fine. From today on, I am no longer a Bailey. But my mother's inheritance is mine—and no one is taking it from me."
She grabbed her suitcase and walked out without looking back.
"Izzy, wait!"
Olivia hurried out after her, stopping her near the gates. The innocent tears on her face vanished, replaced by a cruel smile.
"So? Did you enjoy sleeping with that fat, disgusting old man last night?"
Isabella clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white.
Olivia leaned in, her voice a poisonous whisper. "Don't bother coming back for the inheritance. I have the full video from last night. Try to fight me, and I'll make sure the whole world watches it."
Gritting her teeth, Isabella stormed out, vowing that this would not be the end.
*****
Olivia watched Isabella leave with a satisfied smile. The house, the company, and the Bailey fortune were all hers now.
Then, several black cars pulled up outside. A sleek Rolls-Royce stopped near the fountain.
A tall man stepped out. He was handsome, with broad shoulders and a dark suit that fit him perfectly. His gray eyes were icy cold, and his black hair was styled neatly. He walked toward her with slow, calm steps.
Olivia recognized him right away—Ethan Reeds, the rich and powerful CEO. He was so wealthy and powerful that normal people couldn't even meet him, making him the ultimate dream man for every rich girl in the city.
Ethan stopped in front of her. His sharp gaze moved over her face, examining her closely. He frowned a little.
"Last night," Ethan said, his voice deep and heavy. "In the hotel room. Was that you?"
Olivia's mind went blank. She felt a surge of shock and anger—how did Isabella end up with Ethan Reeds instead of the gross old man she had hired?
Then she realized Isabella was gone. This was her golden chance.
She lowered her eyes with a quiet, shy smile. "Yes... that was me."
Ethan looked at her, his face unreadable. "I take full responsibility. What do you want?"
Olivia acted timid, twisting her dress softly. "I don't want your money, Ethan... I just want a chance to be by your side."
"Fine," Ethan said, his voice flat. He turned back to his car.
Inside the Rolls-Royce, Ethan leaned back and closed his eyes. He recalled the woman from last night—her soft, trembling hands, and her brave, stubborn eyes before the lights went off. Nothing about that woman matched the girl standing in front of him today.
He pulled out his phone and made a call.
"Boss?" his assistant picked up.
"Check the hotel security video from last night," Ethan ordered, his voice dropping low. "Find out who really left my room."
