Isabella’s POV

I walk down the corridor with Michael beside me, the echo of my heels sounds hollow in the empty corridor, and every step feels like fuel to the fire burning inside me. Elena sitting in that office, behind grandmother’s desk, acting as if she belongs there, is a picture I cannot get out of my head. She didn’t fight for that chair, she didn’t earn it, she simply inherited it, and now she wears that inheritance like a crown. It should have been mine. It was supposed to be ...