In her dream, Isabelle saw a young, fair-skinned boy in a school uniform. As the dream changed, the young man turned into the modern-clothed, cold yet charming Alexander.
Perhaps because Alexander and Isabelle had grown closer recently—he wasn't as cold to her as before—she actually dreamed a dream she hadn't dared to after so many years - The picture of her and Alexander getting married...
In the dream, Alexander wore a dark suit in the ceremony—he was awfully handsome. All their close friends were there to give their most sincere blessings. Under their master of ceremonies' instructions, they gave their most devoted vows and exchanged rings. During a round of cheers, Alexander slowly lowered his head and kissed her...
His handsome face in front of her grew bigger, and she stared at his lips. Just as her lips were about to touch his, Isabelle abruptly opened her eyes, waking up from her dream.
The world around her was silent. She blinked twice and realized that she was home, at York Garden. She creased her brows, groggily standing up. She surveyed the room for a second—there was no one besides her. The curtains weren't shut, so the sunlight from outside was awfully bright. It lit up half the room.
She remembered. Last night, she was at the hot spring resort, so how did she get back here in York Garden?
Isabelle thought hard before realizing that she had forgotten a large portion of events that had happened last night.
She couldn't think of how that might have happened, so she thought that she might as well give up. Raising her head to look at the European style clock on the wall, she realized that it was almost afternoon, and there was a scene to shoot in the early afternoon. Suddenly, Isabelle reached for her phone by the pillow. In the end, she didn't feel anything, so she circled the room. She had the habit of carrying her bag up, but it wasn't in the room either.
Confused, Isabelle walked over to the bathroom and quickly washed her face. She went downstairs, circled the living room, looking all over.
Madam Mary, who had heard movement outside, came out from the kitchen and saw Isabelle. She immediately gave her a warm smile and said, "Mrs. Smith, are you awake?"
Isabelle smiled gently at her and asked in bewilderment, "Madam Mary, have you seen my bag?"
Madam Mary shook her head and said, "Mrs. Smith, Mr. Smith carried you home in the night. You didn't bring a bag."
Didn't bring a bag? Alexander carried her back?
Only then did Isabelle lower her head to look down at the clothes she wore. She found herself in a brand-new feminine cotton Chanel dress. She became even more confused. Why did Alexander carry her home?
Madam Mary saw Isabelle just standing there on her own. With her delicate brows creased, she was clearly in a daze. Madam Mary thought about Alexander's orders in the morning. She immediately said, "Mrs Smith, Mr. Smith told me to cook porridge. He told me to serve it when you wake up."
Isabelle still felt like something must have happened last night, but she couldn't think of what. After hearing Madam Mary's voice, she flatly replied with an "Oh". She looked a little dazed as she walked into the dining room.
Madam Mary swiftly served the porridge she had left to warm. She placed it in front of Isabelle, as well as a few side dishes.
Isabelle held the spoon and casually stirred the porridge. Every now and then, she would lower her head to take a sip. In the end, she couldn't hold back her curiosity any longer and looked at Madam Mary who stood to one side, serving her. She asked, "Madam Mary, when Mr. Smith came back in the morning, did he say anything?"
"He told me to cook porridge, as well as not to disturb your rest..."Madam Mary paused for a second, then added, "And for me to take good care of you."
"Anything else?"
Madam Mary shook her head.
Isabelle's heart was even more curious. She couldn't help but bite her spoon, wishing to ask Madam Mary again, when, suddenly, the doorbell rang.
Alexander's mansion, York Garden, was rarely disturbed by outsiders. Isabelle curiously put her spoon down. Just as she was ready to get up, Madam Mary instinctively walked out the dining room, "Madam, I'll go open the door."
Isabelle sat back down on her dining chair. She ate her porridge, thinking about how to recollect the few hours she'd forgotten.
"Izzy!"
Just as Isabelle lifted her spoon full of porridge to her mouth, Camila suddenly screamed as she entered the house.
Isabelle paused for a moment. Without bothering with Camila, she thought about her situation, and slowly swallowed the porridge.
Madam Mary recognized Camila since she had come to York Garden a few times to pick up Isabelle, so she enthusiastically pulled up a chair for her. "Miss. Camila, would you like to eat something?"
It was already midday and Camila hadn't eaten yet. She came straight from the set, and so she immediately nodded, unreserved, adding a "Thank you". Then she put her face in front of Isabelle, looking her up and down before giving a long sigh of relief.
With a fluster of words, she told Isabelle, "Thank goodness that you're fine, Izzy. Yesterday, you don't know how much you scared me! Annabelle, that bitch. I always knew she wasn't a good person, but I never thought that she would ever do something so despicable, stoop to that level!
"But, Izzy, you don't be angry. This time, her stunt has finally put the nail in the coffin for her. I heard someone say that someone slapped her silly in the face. Today, the media has been exposing her scandals non-stop. Facebook has completely exploded with hate comments. Even her fans have become her haters. Let off some steam, it really let off some steam. The whole world is shouting at her, don't you worry!"
As Camila spoke, she smiled triumphantly. "Izzy, let me tell you... I couldn't be more pissed. I even hired a few people to shout at her. One of them actually got the hottest reply on Facebook!"
Isabelle was in a daze, shocked by Camila's words as she hadn't taken a breath throughout the lengthy explanation. When Madam Mary brought the porridge in front of her, she happily grabbed a spoon and wolfed down the food. When she shut her eyes, Isabelle blinked and casually asked her, "Camila, what about Annabelle?"
"Hmph!" Isabelle's question made Camila choke for a second. She grabbed for a napkin to cover up her long cough before glaring at Isabelle. She with a strange expression, "Isabelle, are you dumb? You don't know what happened to Annabelle? Don't you know that she almost put you in some serious danger yesterday? Just a little longer and you would have been raped by that pervert Producer Johnson!"
Isabelle furrowed her brows, innocently asking in return, "I was raped by Mr. Johnson?"
Seeing her expression, Camila blinked twice and asked with a serious voice, "Izzy, you really don't know?"
From Camila's words, Isabelle could vaguely understand the nasty thing that had transpired last night. Her expression became awful. She pursed her lips and didn't say a word.
Camila's grip on the spoon tightened for a moment. Then she loosened up, looked at Isabelle, and explained every detail of last night's events.
"Izzy, someone put drugs in your drink last night at the hot spring, but someone quickly disposed of the drink, so we've already lost the evidence."
"Last night, it was all thanks to Miss Helen or I wouldn't have found you. After telling her the situation, she was the first to notice something wasn't right. Then we looked at the recording tapes and saw you taken away by Annabelle. By then, the drug had already taken effect on you, and you were delirious. You practically had no strength to fight back."
After Camila's elaboration, a number of blurred images crossed Isabelle's mind, but they were scattered and basically impossible to link together.
"When I saw what happened, I was really shocked. I wanted to call Miss Sophia to save you, but Miss Helen took my phone away and called Mr. Smith."
Alexander? A flash of doubt crossed Isabelle eyes.
"Then, it was one of Miss Helen's assistants who found Annabelle's car at the hotel. They called Miss Helen, and Miss Helen told Mr. Smith. What came after, I didn't see for myself, so I don't know what actually happened, but I heard Miss Helen say that Annabelle had taken you to Producer Johnson's room..."
On that note, Camila looked like she had just thought of something, and stressed, "However, because they're afraid, people will find out and the media will broadcast absurd stories everywhere, which would be bad for you, news of what happened were cut off early. Not many people know."
"So, Izzy, if you really want to thank someone, you must thank Mr. Smith. It was him who saved you last night, so nothing happened to you. If he hadn't rushed back from the city last night, you would have definitely been picked clean by Producer Johnson."
Alexander saved her?
Only then did Isabelle realize that on the back of her left hand there was actually a small prick. It must have been from an IV drip, which meant that Alexander had taken her to the hospital last night?
Madam Mary did say that he had carried her back home earlier. Is it possible that he looked after her at the hospital all night long, waiting for her to be all right before coming home?
Just now, Camila said that the news today was completely exposing Annabelle's scandals. Not only that, but there were some people who were actually working together to expose her...
Suddenly, Isabelle asked Camila for her phone. She tapped open Facebook, and just as expected, she saw that all the hot topics were about Annabelle.
Even old photos of Annabelle working as a nightclub hostess were dug up and exposed on Facebbok. As well as all the dirt on how she sabotaged so many celebrities over the years. There were even memes with evidence, and it looked convincingly true.
So much true that even a big confirmed star on Facebook posted a sex-tape of Annabelle. Though the man's face wasn't clear on the video, you could clearly see Annabelle's face.
All these years, Annabelle had cultivated a good image. With all these old rumors exposed all at once, it would practically erase her. There must have been someone meddling behind it all.
Not only that, but Annabelle had paid for a lot of followers. Whenever something happened, her followers would praise her with all sorts of compliments. But this time, the rumors were everywhere. There was not even a hint of those paid followers. They must have been controlled by someone too.
The most important thing to a celebrity is their reputation. This was practically reputation killing. Unfortunately, this was the end of Annabelle's career in the entertainment business.
It was clear that someone was meddling in the shadows. Their goal was simple - to eradicate Annabelle.
Yet, following straight after the day Isabelle was in danger, this all happened to Annabelle. The person who meddled most probably was...
Isabelle hadn't yet thought of the name when Camila, who was sat opposite her, suddenly said, "Izzy, people from the Instagram group are saying that Producer Johnson will pull his investment from 'Alluring Times'!"
For a second, Isabelle blanked out. Then hurriedly closed Facebook and opened up Instagram. She saw a lot of people in the group popping up with messages non-stop, discussing Producer Johnson pulling his investment.
"Producer Johnson invested a billion into this movie, 'Alluring Times'. How could he pull his it back out of nowhere?"
"Right? What the hell happened? Yesterday, Producer Johnson treated us all, but today, he's parting ways with us?"
"Not only that, but early this morning, Producer Johnson left our Instagram group."
"Don't even mention it. I just sent him a message and he has not even replied. I tried to call him, but he didn't answer either..."
...
In just a few short minutes, hundreds of messages appeared in a flash on the Instagram group chat. Isabelle felt a little dizzy looking at the messages, so she couldn't help but put her phone down. Camila, who sat opposite her, looked at the chat, saying, "Even though that guy, Producer Johnson, is a little perverted, he was rich. He came from a family that owns coal mines and had invested in a few films and television shows in these past few years. He's worth several billions. 'Alluring Times' is a big production with a total investment of two billion. A billion was from Producer Johnson, and the other billion was from Mr. Smith..."
Speaking of which, it looked like Camila had thought of something. She lifted her head, looked at Isabelle, and asked, "Izzy, but it's a real coincidence. You were in trouble yesterday, and today, Annabelle fell to such a tragic end and Producer Johnson pulled back his investment. You say, do you think this had something to do with you? Do you think Mr. Smith did this?"
Isabelle just thought it might be Alexander, but now hearing Camila's words, her heart shuddered for a moment.
"For Mr. Smith to mess with Annabelle, I can understand that. Annabelle deserved it. However, Mr. Smith had no reason to let Producer Johnson pull his investment? Do you think that if we don't have a new investment to cover Producer Johnson's investment then 'Alluring Times' would probably stop filming? If that's so, Mr. Smith's would have lost his billion in the process. That'd be so wrong!"
Isabelle was a little confused by Camila's words. She was fairly certain it was Alexander, but also fairly uncertain... A slither of anxiety appeared in her heart again. She was really afraid that if finances for "Alluring Times" couldn't be resolved, then Alexander's billion would be lost.
~*~
Because Producer Johnson had pulled his investment in "Alluring Times", the production crew temporarily stopped working for three days.
Camila came over, first, to hand Isabelle her bag, and second, to see her. She stayed till three in the afternoon before she left.
A few minutes after Camila had left, the news about Producer Johnson pulling his investment made it out. Facebook was popping off as usual with news about Annabelle, as well as the movie "Alluring Times".
Bored, Isabelle swiped through Facebook all afternoon. Her mind was filled with wild thoughts up until dinner time, then she forced her thoughts to calm down.
After dinner, Isabelle went back up to the second-floor bedroom. She hadn't even sat down for a few minutes when her phone rang.
The call was from James' mother, Mrs. Williams.