Chapter 89

ISABELLA

I barely slept last night. My thoughts refused to rest, spiraling into a relentless storm of worry over this new arrangement with Levi.
He wasn’t the same.
That much was obvious.
But this wasn’t just about change—it felt like erasure. Like someone had taken a blade and cleanly cut me out of his memory. When he looked at me, there was no flicker of recognition, no trace of the history we shared. Just a blank stare. Cold. Detached.
And though I’d tried to convince myself he was pretending—playing some long game I couldn’t yet decipher—deep down, I knew better. For over a week now, I had watched him carefully. Studied the edges of his expression. Searched for anything familiar. But what stared back at me wasn’t a mask.
It was absence.
That nagging suspicion pulled me down a rabbit hole I didn’t know I was ready to enter. By 3:00 AM, I found it—a news article buried under layers of search results. A car accident. Nearly fatal. Levi had been in a coma for weeks. And when he finally woke up, he had suffered significant memory loss.
The date?
Almost exactly a year ago.
The same time my name had been cleared.
My stomach twisted as questions bled into each other. Had he forgotten me entirely? Had he tried to come back but didn’t know where to find me? Or had someone—his father, maybe—used the accident to sever the last thread between us?
The more I thought about it, the more I felt like I was spiraling in a rollercoaster with no brakes. Each answer only raised more questions. And each question added another stone to the weight already pressing on my chest.
Desperate, I searched for Tony’s number. He had been the only one who’d ever treated me like a person in that godforsaken office. The only one who hadn’t betrayed me—yet. But every lead was cold. No updated contact info. No social media presence. Just dead ends and silence.
Still, I wasn’t giving up. Not yet.
Tomorrow, I’d try harder. I had to. Tony might be the only person left who could tell me the truth about Levi—and what really happened that year we lost.

The next day passed in a thick, groggy haze. I didn’t leave my bed until well past noon, letting the sheer weight of everything press me further into the mattress. When I finally opened my eyes, it was almost 4:00 PM.
Still exhausted—body aching in a way that had nothing to do with sleep—I forced myself into the kitchen. I pulled together a quick dinner for my siblings and me. Just rice and stew. Nothing fancy. But it was something. A small way to celebrate not being kicked out of our house yet.
I wasn’t even hungry. I just needed to move. To do something. Anything to escape the noise in my head.
I had just finished washing the plates when my phone rang.
Levi.
Or rather—Boss.
His name flashed on the screen. But the number was different. Not the one I’d memorized, not the one I’d called and called for weeks after everything fell apart. That one had gone cold. Disconnected. Erased, like me.
He must’ve changed it.
My hands trembled as I picked up.
“We were supposed to have dinner at six,” he said immediately, his voice clipped and cold. “Seems you’ve already forgotten the terms of our agreement. Are we going to have a problem?”
My heart thudded—hard, a little too fast. That voice. I knew it. Rough and low, threaded with the same brutish accent that once curled down my spine like a secret. Back when he was Mr. L, and every word he spoke could unravel something inside me I was too proud to name.
It was deeper now. More commanding. Like the years had sanded him down and reforged him into something harder. Almost dangerous.
For a moment, I froze. Was this what submission used to feel like—before I learned what it truly cost to give someone your heart, your desires, your body? Before I learned how easy it was to be ruined by the wrong kind of love?
No. I wasn’t that girl anymore.
And yet—God help me—something in me still ached. Quietly. Sharply.
I needed him. Not entirely. But enough that denying it would be lying to myself.
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, forcing calm into my voice. “Where am I supposed to meet you, sir?”
“M&B Penthouse.”
“Okay. Please give me thirty minutes.”
“You better not be late,” he muttered, then hung up.
I stared at the screen, the silence rushing in like a wave. He had changed—I could feel it in his voice, in the way he spoke to me like a stranger wearing a familiar face.
And yet, some part of me itched to dig into him. To peel back the layers until I found the man I once knew. The passion. The fire. The desire that used to burn between us. I wanted to see him again. Really see him.
No.
That was a terrible idea.
Isabella, remember why you’re here. You’re not getting involved again. You’re not surrendering your body, your heart, or your control. Not this time. This time, it’s about making things right. Clearing your name. And then walking away. Got it?
I ducked into the living room where Matt and Caroline were curled up on the couch, watching a movie.
“Guys, I’m heading out,” I said, already halfway to my room. “My boss just called.”
Boss.
I smiled.
He is my boss again.