“He’s hot?” Isabella Lane’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Laura, count me in. I’m on my way. Don’t leave without me!”
“Isabella,” Laura Charles hesitated, her voice tinged with concern, “you’re Mrs. Adams now, you really…”
Before she could finish, Isabella had already ended the call.
Laura stared at her phone, a little speechless. She sent a quick message to the group chat, letting everyone know Isabella was coming along to the bar.
Isabella might carry the Lane family name, but in Cabinda’s high society, people never fully accepted her. Everyone knew she was Cynthia’s daughter and not related to the Lane family by blood. Most of her friends were daughters of small business owners.
Laura’s family was solidly middle class. They ran a small company, sometimes pulling in over a million a year, other times just a few hundred thousand. But Laura had her own thing going. She wrote novels, and not just any novels – she’d gotten one published, sold film rights, even had a comic adaptation. In the web novel world, she was considered pretty successful.
Laura was independent and free, living a life even Isabella had envied before she got married. A couple of years ago, Laura had a major hit. The royalties alone hit seven figures, and she bought herself an apartment in downtown Cabinda. Moving out on her own only made her life more carefree.
In her past life, after her divorce, Isabella had wanted to move in with Laura. She never made it. On the way, she was kidnapped, her life ending in regret.
Half an hour later, Isabella parked outside Laura’s apartment complex. She didn’t go up, just called Laura from her car.
A few minutes later, Laura came out with two other friends. Both of them were writers too, and through Laura, they’d gotten to know Isabella. She was kind of a celebrity among them, having married Ethan Adams, the richest man in Cabinda. They weren’t trying to use her for connections. They just wanted to get a peek into the real lives of the wealthy, hoping it would inspire their stories. But Isabella never shared anything about her in-laws, which always left them a little disappointed.
“Isabella, we’re going to the bar for drinks,” one of the girls said, sliding into the back seat. “You drove yourself, so you’re not drinking tonight?”
“Good. Drinking on an empty stomach is a recipe for disaster.” Isabella glanced at Laura. “So, tell me about these good-looking guys. Do we need a reservation or what?”
“Not yet.” Laura grinned. “Right now, whoever spends the most gets their attention. Once they get popular, you’ll have to book them in advance. That’s why we have to go now, while we can still get a taste of the action.”
She paused, then leaned over with a playful look. “But Isabella, I’m sure none of them are as handsome as your Ethan.”
Ethan Adams really was something else.
Isabella just smiled and said nothing. It didn’t matter how handsome Ethan was. He was never really hers.

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