Chapter 8
Le Bernardin was quiet, smelling of sea salt and old money. Isadora sat at the table, feeling like she was wearing a costume. She had worn her office clothes-a simple black pencil skirt and a white blouse-because she didn't want to go home and change. She didn't want to be here at all.
Grafton had texted Zoe, threatening to show up at Zoe's workplace if Isadora didn't come to this "peace offering" dinner. Isadora had come to protect Zoe, not to forgive Grafton.
Bella was wearing a red dress that probably cost more than Isadora's college tuition. She was beaming.
"Isadora, try the scallop," Bella said, placing a piece on Isadora's plate with silver tongs. "It's divine."
"I'm not hungry," Isadora said.
"Oh, come on," Grafton said, pouring wine. "Don't be difficult, Izzy. Bella is trying."
Isadora looked at Grafton. He looked desperate for everything to be fine. He wanted the illusion of peace so he wouldn't have to feel guilty.
"I see you aren't wearing any jewelry," Bella said, touching the diamond bracelet on her own wrist. "Did you lose that little heart necklace you always wore?"
"I gave it back," Isadora said, staring at Grafton.
Grafton flinched. He took a large gulp of wine.
"Well," Bella said, "I suppose it's better not to wear things that don't belong to you."
Isadora put her fork down. It clattered against the china. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Isadora, relax," Grafton warned.
"I need to powder my nose," Bella said, standing up. She looked at Isadora. "Join me? We can talk girl-to-girl."
Grafton kicked Isadora lightly under the table. "Go. Please."
Isadora stood up. She followed Bella toward the restrooms.
The corridor leading to the bathrooms was long, lined with polished wood and a short flight of three marble steps. It was empty.
Bella stopped at the top of the steps. She turned around. The smile was gone. Her face was hard, ugly.
"You think you're clever," Bella hissed. "Giving the necklace back? Playing hard to get? It won't work."
"I'm not playing anything," Isadora said tiredly. "I just want to be left alone."
"You're a backup plan," Bella said, stepping closer. "You're the safety net he keeps around in case he gets bored. It's pathetic."
"If you're so secure, Bella, why are you threatened by a backup?" Isadora asked.
Bella's eyes narrowed. She looked over Isadora's shoulder. She saw Grafton entering the corridor, his phone to his ear.
Bella grabbed Isadora's wrist. Her nails dug in deep.
"Don't touch me!" Isadora pulled back instinctively.
"Ahhh!" Bella screamed.
She threw herself backward. It was theatrical, violent. She let her body go limp and tumbled down the three marble steps.
She hit the bottom with a thud and rolled onto her side, clutching her ankle.
"Isadora! No!" Bella shrieked.
Grafton dropped his phone. He sprinted down the hall.
"Bella!"
He slid to his knees beside her. Bella was sobbing, tears instantly flowing.
"She pushed me," Bella cried, pointing a shaking finger at Isadora. "I told her she was hurting you, and she just... she shoved me!"
Grafton looked up. His eyes were wild with fury.
Isadora stood at the top of the stairs, her hand still raised from where she had pulled it away from Bella's grip. To anyone watching, it looked exactly like the follow-through of a push.
"Isadora!" Grafton roared. "Are you insane?"
"I didn't push her!" Isadora shouted, her voice trembling. "She grabbed me! She threw herself down!"
"I saw you!" Grafton yelled, standing up. He marched up the steps and got in Isadora's face. "I saw you standing over her! How could you be so jealous? So vicious?"
"Grafton, use your brain," Isadora pleaded. "Why would I push her?"
"Because you can't stand that I chose her!" Grafton spat the words. "God, you are ugly when you're like this."
The restaurant manager and two waiters came running. Diners were standing up, craning their necks.
"Get her out of here," Grafton said to the manager, pointing at Isadora. "She assaulted my fiancée."
Isadora felt the blood drain from her face. She looked at Bella. Bella was peeking through her fingers, a small, triumphant smirk on her lips.
Isadora was alone. Surrounded by enemies.
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