Chapter 2 TWO

ISABELLE

"Bella, wake up or you are going to be late!"

I jolt awake at Evelyn's familiar voice, my chest heaving as if I have just run a marathon.

For a long second, I can't breathe even as I try to calm down my panic.

Where's the truck?

I heard a truck.

I heard a crash.

I...

My fingers grip the sheets- familiar sheets and I look down to see my baby pink polka dot bed sheet in my fist.

My gaze darts around, taking in the chipped paint on the walls, the crooked photo frame above my dresser, the faint hum of traffic from outside.

No. This can't be right.

I am... I am in my room?

My hand shakes as I grab my phone from the nightstand.

The date flashes on the screen, clear as day.

18th March 2025.

It's... a year ago.

A sharp chill runs down my spine as I sit up, gripping the edge of the bed, my heart pounding like a drum as I try to understand what's happening.

Yesterday, or what feels like yesterday, I was staring at Andrew and Evelyn laughing in my face. Today, I'm... back here? In my tiny apartment?

How does that even make sense?!

My chest tightens. It's not possible. None of this makes sense.

"What is happening?!" I whimper to myself as I stumble to the mirror, half expecting to see someone else staring back. But it's me. Same brown eyes. Same messy hair. Same everything.

A second chance.

The words echo in my mind, wild and chaotic.

I don't know how or why, but I've been thrown back here, to the beginning, before everything crumbled.

I inhale deeply as my reflection stares back at me, wide, eyed and terrified, but there's something else in my gaze now.

Anger.

No, not anger.

Rage.

I'm not going to let them destroy me this time.

*******

The office is buzzing with activity when I step inside.

Phones ringing, keyboards clattering, voices murmuring.

It's the same sterile, polished space I remember, but it feels different now.

I feel different now.

"Morning, Isabelle." Jenna from accounting waves at me, her smile as bright as ever.

"Morning," I reply, forcing a polite grin.

My stomach churns as I head toward my desk. I wonder how many of these people already knew what Andrew and Evelyn were up to.

Oh, don't be ridiculous.

They would have to care about you first

Before I can spiral, a voice cuts through the noise.

"Miss Reynolds." a voice calls and I freeze.

Jake Montero

His deep, steady voice carries effortlessly over the din, and when I turn, he's standing by his office door, his gaze sharp as ever.

"Yes, Mr. Montero?" I ask, keeping my tone neutral.

Desperately trying to act normal.

What is normal, anyway?

He gestures toward the stack of papers in his hand. "I need these filed immediately. And follow up with the vendors about the shipment delay."

I nod, my pulse quickening. "Of course."

He strides past me, the scent of his cologne.. something crisp and expensive lingering in the air as I reach for the files, but our hands brush.

Just for a second.

It's nothing.

It shouldn't be anything.

But my breath hitches, and when I glance up, he's already walking away, completely unfazed.

"Get your act together, Belle," I mutter as I shake it off.

There's no room for distraction.

Not now.

Andrew's text comes in while I'm buried in spreadsheets.

Dinner tonight? 7 PM. My treat.

I stare at the screen, my stomach twisting.

A year ago, or is it a year into the future?....I would have smiled at this message, maybe even blushed.

But now?

Now I want to throw my phone across the room.

Instead, I type back a simple reply.

Sure.

If I'm going to figure out how long they've been playing me, I need to play along.

**************************

Andrew looks good.

Of course, he always does.

His perfectly styled hair, his easy smile, the way he leans back in his chair like he owns the world, it's all so calculated.

I sip my wine, watching him closely. He's saying something about work, but I'm not really listening. I'm too busy noticing the way his eyes flicker to his phone every few minutes. T

The way he glances around the restaurant like he's searching for someone.

"Isabelle?"

I blink. "Sorry, what?"

"I asked if you're okay. You seem... distracted."

I force a smile. "Just a long day."

He reaches across the table, taking my hand in his. "You work too hard. I keep telling you to take it easy."

His touch used to make me feel safe. Now it makes my skin crawl.

"I'll try," I murmur, pulling my hand back. "So, when are you leaving for France?"

"By month's end," he says with a smile. "I am going to miss you like crazy."

"Hmm. Me too."

By the time dinner's over, I've learned nothing new. But I've seen enough to know one thing

He was obviously hiding something I knew about already.

His relationship with Evelyn.

We finished the good and he told me he had to be somewhere so he couldn't drop me.

I started my journey home as the rain poured,

Big, fat drops that soak through my coat in seconds.

Like that night, just that I wasn't with a car.

I pull my hood up and keep walking, my mind racing with everything I need to do.

The sound of tires splashing through puddles makes me glance up. A sleek black car slows to a stop beside me, the window rolling down smoothly.

"Miss Reynolds."

Jake Montero's voice cuts through the rain. His gaze is steady, unreadable, as he leans slightly toward the open window.

"Mr. Montero," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Get in," he says simply.

I hesitate, the tension thick between us. But the rain is relentless, and I can't think of a good excuse to refuse.

I climb into the car, the leather seats cold against my skin. The door closes with a soft click, sealing us inside.

For a while, neither of us speaks. The sound of rain against the windows fills the silence, heavy and oppressive.

"Rough evening?" he asks eventually, his tone casual but his gaze sharp.

"Just dinner," I reply, keeping my voice even.

"With Andrew?"

My head snaps toward him, but his expression gives nothing away.

"Yes," I say cautiously.

How does he know about Andrew?

He hums, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. "Interesting choice."

"What do you mean by that?" I ask, my heart pounding.

He glances at me briefly before focusing back on the road. "Nothing. Just wondering why someone like you would settle for someone like him."

My breath catches.

There's something in his tone, something probing, almost challenging.

"I don't understand what you mean," I say. "Is there something wrong with Andrew?" I ask as he pulls up to my apartment.

"Good night, Isabelle," he says, his voice cool and composed.

Final

I step out into the rain, his words echoing in my mind.

Why would someone like me settle for someone like Andrew?

As the car pulls away, I realize I have another question.

How does he know where I live?