She pressed her lips together, hesitated for a heartbeat, then asked softly,
"Still awake?"
This time, the man on the other end did not pretend to be dead.
A cold, mocking laugh slipped through the receiver. "So you still remember who I am?"
"… "
"Or are you so fascinated by that young hunk that you've forgotten you're already taken?"
Isabella Cruz closed her eyes briefly.
Trying to reason with a jealous man was like explaining calculus to a cat.
"Victor…" she sighed, sounding genuinely helpless. "How do you know he's younger than you? What if you're just insecure?"
Across the ocean, in a luxury suite in Milan, Victor leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window.
His expression shifted almost imperceptibly.
She continued casually, as if discussing the weather.
"Even if there's a tiny difference in age… and maybe one or two extra wrinkles," she added sweetly, "your financial power can turn black into white. If you say you're younger than him, who would dare argue?"
Silence.
