In this lifetime, Isabella Austin had become even more brazen.
She knew Vivian Martin was gone, so she shamelessly assumed Vivian’s identity as her own, and—without a hint of embarrassment—claimed to be the creator of Desire.
Emily Blair’s eyes burned with unshed tears. She was still reeling from it all when her phone lit up with a call from an unfamiliar number.
She took a breath, steadying herself, then answered.
A girl’s hesitant, youthful voice came through the line. “Is this Emily Blair?”
Emily’s voice was rough, nearly breaking. “Yes, who’s this?”
The girl hesitated. “Are you okay? Your voice sounds strange.”
Emily coughed a few times. “I’m fine. What is it?”
The girl’s voice grew quieter. “Do you remember me? A while back, outside school, my mom’s bike hit Mr. Lane’s Rolls-Royce. You talked to Mr. Lane and convinced him not to make a fuss.”
“I remember. What’s wrong?”
“I’m only telling you this because of that,” the girl said quickly. “You should get to school right away. Ms. Carter is about to be fired. The principal’s furious that she assigned you as host and all that drama happened. He’s blaming her.”
Emily’s heart clenched, her pupils tightening with shock.
***



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